No one was surprised that "LOTR" took Best Picture and Best Director, in addition to a host of technical awards. But the film, tying the record set by "Ben-Hur" and "Titanic," captured every single award in the 11 categories for which it was nominated, including awards for Makeup and Costume Design. I admire the achievement of all the "LOTR" films, but don't tell me that ragged hobbitt threads and Liv Tyler's billowing white sheath represent an accomplishment that surpasses the detailed period creations of "Girl With a Pearl Earring," "The Last Samurai" and "Master and Commander."
There were no surprises among the acting awards, either, which made for the biggest, and most disappointing, surprise of all. Best Actor front-runner Sean Penn's lead had recently begun to ebb as Bill Murray and Johnny Depp seemed to be gaining momentum, but on Oscar night, Penn's towering "Mystic River" performance prevailed. One can't fault the choice, though the sight of a clearly devastated Murray trying to keep up a smile was one of the most affecting moments of the night. Best Actress winner Charlize Theron ("Monster") was another impeccable choice, though after the slew of awards she's picked up over the past four months, I'm a little skeptical of her teary, trembling, "I'm-just-a-girl-from-a-farm-in-South-Africa" frenzies.
My favorite acting winner of the night was Supporting Actor Tim Robbins ("Mystic River"), who brimmed with the joy of a little boy receiving his first baseball trophy as he accepted his award. Supporting Actress, however, was a gloomier moment. Early front-runner Renee Zellweger, whose lead, it seemed, was being eaten away by two of the other, much more deserving nominees, triumphed after all. In a category that routinely offers up happy surprises, this uninspired choice showed us just how steeped in conventionality the Oscars were three nights ago.
With the shadow of the Janet Jackson Super Bowl scandal looming over the entertainment industry, the Oscars were a polite, indolent affair, the parade of scripted introductions interspersed with selections from host Billy Crystal's arsenal of unforgivably dull jokes. For the first time, the telecast was produced by studio chief Joe Roth, a regime change enacted in an effort to boost flagging television ratings. But from what I could tell, Roth's contribution, while he attracted such A-listers as Julia Roberts and Will Smith, was to turn the Oscars into a clean-cut star parade, with an apple-pie atmosphere that was disconcerting and thoroughly unwelcome. Presenting duos included Will and Jada Pinkett Smith, Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon, and Sofia and Francis Ford Coppola. Cute, yes, but no one wants his Oscars cute.
One of the highlights of the night was Errol Morris' Best Documentary Feature win for "The Fog of War." Morris, one of the two or three most influential documentary filmmakers of our time, has never been recognized by the Academy, despite producing such classics as "Mr. Death," "Fast, Cheap, & Out of Control," "The Thin Blue Line" and "Gates of Heaven." Even Morris' opening exclamation-"I'd like to thank the Academy for finally recognizing my films! Thank you very, very, very much. I thought it would never happen!"-didn't leave a bad taste, as it's been such a long time coming. Morris also offered the night's only real social commentary, saying that "40 years ago, this country went down a rabbit hole in Vietnam, and millions died. I fear we're going down a rabbit hole once again." After the blithe ennui of the show's first three hours, the reality check came as a relief.
Relief came in a different form when presenters Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson, co-stars of the upcoming "Starsky and Hutch," took the stage. Wilson, in a tuxedo, mocked Stiller's Starksy get-up as the latter pretended to fume at having been tricked into it. Jack Black and Will Ferrell introduced their category, Original Song, with a hilarious song and dance of their own. Sample lyric: "No need to thank your parakeet/You're boring/Look at Catherine Zeta-Jones, she's snoring."
There has been much speculation as to what effect the Academy's new shortened schedule-presenting the awards a full month earlier than usual-would have on the outcome. The question became particularly murky when last month's nominations proved to be the most surprising and inspired set in years, representing indie films as heavily as studio fare, a phenomenon hardly explained by the schedule. What happened, I think, is that the unusually brief period between the nominations and the actual awards was the reason behind the total lack of surprises that Sunday night featured. In general, when nominations are announced, it's easy to pinpoint frontrunners in several categories; and when a film or nominee is a front-runner for too long, voters, whether due to backlash or the mere prevalence of sense, take the time to sit back and examine the choices.
But the upside of the ceremony was that with such a robust set of nominees, it was difficult to go too wrong with the awards. Moreover, the studios were shaken by the fact that many of their Oscar-hungry late-December prestige pieces, like "Cold Mountain" and "The Last Samurai," failed to snag the expected nominations; the result seems to be that they'll spread out their slates, not waiting until the last two weeks of the calendar year to release what they deem quality movies. Finally, with indie films so well represented, their continued survival in the marketplace is ensured, at least for another year.
In short, it was worth it. If the new schedule secures us greater breadth of films, quality product spread out over weeks rather than days, and nominees that actually represent some of the best filmmaking of the year, I'm all for it. But note to the producers: Can this cleaned-up show. When it comes to Oscar night, nobody wants a family affair.