The show ran an inexcusable four hours and 20 minutes, with few highlights and innumerable tasteless, irrelevant and flat-out unwatchable moments. To begin with, the producers made the choice of asking Whoopi Goldberg-who hosted the 1999 ceremony with such smug self-assurance and flagrantly unfunny humor that it bested even poor David Letterman's acknowledged 1994 debacle as the worst hosting job in two decades-to return. Thankfully she toned it down, but I can recall two out of god-knows-how-many jokes that incited genuine laughs. This, in addition to the fact that about 90 percent were jokes about race, culminated in once again making her seem as pleasant as a ravenous vulture.
But first things first: the show began with a ludicrous speech by Tom Cruise-proudly displaying his new 'clear' braces-about the debatable importance of movies in the wake of 9/11. "Last September came an event that would change us," he recited. "An actor friend said to me, 'What are we doing? Should we celebrate the joy and magic that movies bring?' Well, dare I say it, more than ever." Not only was this a somewhat blatant preemptive strike to excuse the subsequent excess and incestuous ass-kissing, but the fact that the producers would demand a veneer of sincerity from Tom Cruise … it defies analogy.
The real highlight of the show, and the segment that should have opened the ceremony to achieve the desired tribute, was a shocking appearance by Woody Allen, who in the past has declined to attend even the ceremonies featuring each one of his 20 nominations. "Thank you very much," he replied to the excited standing ovation. "This makes up for the strip search." With amazing good-humor, Allen introduced a divine montage, directed by Nora Ephron, of clips from films set in New York City.
Another pleasant rarity was the opening montage, unusual, funny and touching, with a tone more sincere than the event deserved. Directed by documentary filmmaker Errol Morris, it featured a series of brief interviews of personalities as varied as Donald Trump, Reverend Al Sharpton and Mikhail Gorbachev, discussing what movies meant to them. Quoth the former USSR Premier: "I liked the 'Gladiator' with Russell Crowe."
One notable aspect of the ceremony was its much-touted momentousness, in that it represented the first time three African-Americans (Will Smith, Denzel Washington and Halle Berry) were nominated for lead performances, the first time two African-Americans (Washington and Berry) won top awards, the first time an African-American woman won Best Actress, etc. Yes, I agree it's been a long time coming; but, while I acknowledge that this is the Oscars, bad history is not reason enough to reward someone.
To be fair, Berry's win for "Monster's Ball" was deserved and her frenzied acceptance was heartfelt, if not entirely relevant. Thankfully able to overcome her initial hysteria, Berry went on to cite "Dorothy Dandridge, Lena Horne, Diahann Carrol … Jada Pinkett, Angela Bassett, Vivica Fox … every nameless, faceless woman of color that now has a chance, because the door tonight has been opened." Exactly how much of a door her win at the Academy Awards has opened I question, but the sincere selflessness of her enthusiasm couldn't help but be touching.
Washington's win, however, was not justified. Again, I know that demanding justice from the Oscars is inherently oxymoronic, but is it too much to ask that an actor be rewarded for a performance and not a lousy principle? Yes, I know it is. But if you wanted so badly to give him a Best Actor statuette, where was his Oscar for "Malcolm X"? Because you realize, I hope, that you just gave him an Oscar for "Training Day." As though being able to officially call "Pearl Harbor" an 'Oscar-winning film' weren't bad enough, we're stuck with this black mark in the history books as well.
Though rarer than usual, there were a few surprises among the winners. The most heartening was the pleasant but overrated "Amelie"'s defeat as Best Foreign Language Film. The moment was slightly overshadowed by the idiotic dance routine of the award's clearly inebriated presenters, Sharon Stone and John Travolta, but the Academy's choice to hand it instead to "No Man's Land," a story of two soldiers trapped amid the Bosnia-Herzegovina battle, demonstrated astoundingly uncharacteristic taste and class. Also somewhat unpredictable was Jim Broadbent's triumph as Best Supporting Actor for "Iris," over favorite Ian McKellan ("The Lord of the Rings"), another small but happy sign that voters did, in fact, see the movies they were choosing amongst.
In the end, I think, what made the ceremony so appallingly awful was more than just its bloated proportions, its inane sideshows (Cirque du Soleil to interpret special effects…) or its absolutely endless set of tributes and montages. The winners for Best Picture and Best Director-"A Beautiful Mind" and Ron Howard-and, equally importantly, the losers, were unforgivable. No matter how much one liked "A Beautiful Mind," even on its own terms, its mawkish clichés are undeniable and it represents a singularly uncreative endeavor.
The worst of it is that two of the other nominated films-"Gosford Park" and particularly, especially, strikingly, "Moulin Rouge"-represent what should be encouraged, any type of motivation that is creative rather than monetary. The evening's biggest injustice-tragedy, even-was the shadow of Baz Luhrmann's failure to receive a directing nomination for "Moulin Rouge," a director's movie if ever such a concept existed and a uniquely creative attempt if nothing else. Screw Whoopi, the four-and-a-half hours, the unending medley of mediocre songs, the tributes to every extra ever to appear on celluloid: the predictable, staggeringly mediocre choice of "A Beautiful Mind" over films such as "Moulin Rouge" or "Gosford Park" was responsible for the utter despicableness of the 2002 Oscars and the reason why, next year, I know I won't be succumbing to the madness.