
Hello Peliplaters!
What do you think of this year's Oscars?
I hope they don't hold it next year. I graduated from a film school in California, USA, in 2019. While I was once full of anticipation for the Oscars, I've now become completely bored of it.
First of all, the Oscar's award criteria are very formulaic. Today's films have evolved to express increasingly complex ideas, while the Oscar's award criteria remain stuck in the last century. Take the Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor awards for example—their criteria are based on that outdated Hollywood story model, "the hero's journey." Generally, this story model requires a flawed hero as the protagonist, who goes through a journey of self-discovery and ultimately achieves self-elevation. This is, of course, a highly individualistic and utilitarian trope. To craft a story around a character that fits the definition of "hero", creators must make the protagonist start at a disadvantage due to some flaw, and then completely reverse this disadvantage and turn it into an advantage by the end of the story. The Sword in the Stone is a typical example.
Great stories don't necessarily have to be about individuals or even about "humans." Of course, we can't deny that many great films follow this story model, and these classic films are still inspiring nowadays for those who are striving to change their fate. The issue is, if you were to ask creators what truly motivates them to write their stories, no one would tell you it's because they wanted to follow a formula. Some might say it was an interesting concept, like The Platform (2019); others might point to a certain place, like City of God (2002); and some might cite a strong emotional impulse, like Wild Tales (2014). The answers vary from person to person.
Similarly, for a dedicated actor, it's impossible to view themselves as merely a supporting character. They must see themselves as the protagonist in their own narrative in order to deliver genuine emotions. Villains in stories are likely those who resent the aforementioned story model the most, because it means that no matter how noble they see their cause, they and everything they've worked hard to build simply become stepping stones to the hero. Professional actors understand this well, which is why those known for portraying villains effectively tend to have an “easy come, easy go” attitude, even in defeat.
Among this year's Oscar nominations, A Real Pain, which I think is the biggest omission, drives its plot through strong emotional impulses. In this film, director Jesse Eisenberg attempts to express an indescribable sense of emptiness that genuinely consumes people from within. David Kaplan and Benji Kaplan are a pair of cousins who grew up together and shared everything. But after David gets married and has children, Benji gradually drifts toward a negative life path that is neither understood nor easy to escape.
Jesse wisely avoided portraying either one of them as the protagonist. As the plot develops, viewers discover that this sense of emptiness doesn't just consume Benji but everyone, because it isn't an individual problem but rather a matter of dynamics—our concerns about someone or something comes at the cost of indifference to someone or something else.
In everyday life, this sense of emptiness is everywhere yet difficult to perceive. Often, it's precisely the emptiness that prevents depression sufferers from overcoming their condition. Jesse not only captured this barely perceptible emotion in a film but also connected it to historical events and the collective trauma of human groups. What did such an ingeniously conceived and profound film receive at the Oscars? Best Supporting Actor. While this is certainly an honor, it's wrong considering one of the Academy's founding purposes—to advance the art of cinema. Kieran Culkin's Benji Kaplan cannot be defined as a supporting role; giving him this award only proves to audiences that Culkin is a good actor without guiding them to appreciate the film's true charm.
Why not establish a "Best Performance Award" aimed at recognizing the successful portrayal of certain ineffable emotions on screen? The honor could go to the entire cast, much like Best Picture is awarded to a film's all producers. After all, isn't a successful performance on set the result of actors influencing each other? We could take it even further and introduce something more abstract—"Best Chemistry" sounds like a good award too, doesn't it?
However, the Oscar system isn't just rigid, but also hypocritical. The seemingly fair anonymous voting mechanism and dozens of pages of award selection rules actually defy fairness. There's no way to know whether the judges have seriously watched all the nominated films before voting, let alone if any one of them have actually read the lengthy rules—probably no more than two pages at best. Film selection isn't forensic identification; cumbersome rules that no one reads don't help with selection—they merely deflect criticism. They're no different from those authorization agreements you must accept before using a website or app. When you actually want to complain, you'll discover you've already "consented" to its unfairness.
Why not try blockchain technology? The Oscar voting process remains as old-fashioned as papal elections in Conclave (2024), where judges fill out their choices on paper under supervision, and the ballots are burned after being recorded as valid. This method appears ceremonial but is deeply impractical. First, this anonymous voting mechanism cannot guarantee that voters have actually watched the films completely, and second, it cannot faithfully reflect voters' emotions. The most authentic moment of judgement comes when the theater lights come on after a film ends. We could require judges to record their opinions at that precise moment, using blockchain technology to verify the uniqueness and timing of their decisions. This wouldn't limit their freedom—if a film is so unbearable that they can't finish it, they could leave midway, and the action itself would become part of their evaluation.
Does the Oscars really know why young people are paying less and less attention to them? The reason is simple: it has nothing to do with us. Without exaggeration, the Oscar ceremony is a patronizing lecture. The vast audience neither participates in voting nor understands the voting process. Even the presenters at the ceremony can only speculate from their personal perspective of why the winners deserve their honors. From the audience's perspective, this is nothing but a "notification"—at least the Nobel Prize committee explains the winner's achievements to the public, while the Oscars give off a feeling of: "I have approved it, no matter how you see it."
What brings films to life is emotion. This is true for both the creators and the audience. Unfortunately, today's Oscars have attitude but no emotion.
What do you think, Peliplaters?
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