"...And The Oscar SHOULD Go To...."

Evidence to the contrary, I do pride myself on, at least, making the effort to be a man of few words.

Or if not a few, then at least the fewest number that will do to express the thought and/or opinion at any given time.

In that spirit, I'm a big fan of those who have mastered the art of sharing deep insight in just a few carefully chosen words or phrases.

For example, some years ago, a reviewer summed up the very first Kirk/Spock/McCoy and company big screen opus this way:

"Star Trek...The Motionless Picture".

And while his singing chops are clearly a matter of personal taste, Bob Dylan, at his peak, could conjure up pages of emotions in single lyric lines.

For example:

"I wish that for just one time you could stand inside my shoes / then you'd know what a drag it is to see you..."

With this year's Academy Awared ritual looming, I found myself appreciating someone who was able to concisely wade through the sea of ink splashed on page after page in the cause of "predicting" who and for what, Oscar wise.

The articulate artist is a lady named Kate Torgovnick who writes for a fun Web site called The Frisky.

Here's how she sees the how the major awards will, and always do, shake out.

"...The Academy tends to be pretty predictable:

Best Actress generally goes to America's sweetheart (who later gets divorced);

Best Actor goes to the guy with the most previous nominations;

Best Supporting Actress goes to a breakout star;

and Best Supporting Actor goes to the creepy guy..."

Thank you ! And (four plus hours later...) good night!

The more vigilant among us will note that two major awards are left out of that list.

Best Director.

Best Picture.

Kate has a pretty witty theory about the Best Picture award in her article.

Check it out at your leisure.

http://us.cnn.com/2010/SHOWBIZ/Movies/03/05/oscar.theory.best.picture/index.html?hpt=Sbin

http://www.thefrisky.com/

Regarding the Director thing, though, I have my own theory.

Or opinion, to put the finer point on it.

They should do away with it.

And not because I think that film directors aren't more than deserving of recognition for their work.

Au contrare', mon mutual movie buff.

My "take" on it is that the award is, at best, disingenuous, at worst, absurd.

And the proof lurking in the pudding is the common sense answer to the following question.

How can a film be voted the very best picture of the entire year and the director of said film not be recognized as the best director of said film?

(HINT: If you're even a little perplexed, the key to the answer is the use of the word "director" in the question...)

Traditionally, the producers of the movie chosen best are the official recipients of the recognition and the sacred statuette.

The director might get to tag along on the walk of fame to the podium but, as in terms of individual acclaim, is left to fend for his or her self in their own category.

And to make matters worse, the Director award is handed out before the Picture award which, as we all know, is always the last, and supposedly most exciting and anticipated, award of the evening.

Or afternoon/evening/wee hours as is usually the case with this thing.

So year after year, too often, the director of the movie that gets chosen as Best Picture gets to tag along with the producers on the walk of fame to the podium and then stand there, best frozen "grateful" smile in place, listening to the producers drone on, while occasionally being distracted by the quick flash of glare coming from an Oscar being held in the audience.

In the lap of the winner of the Best Director award.

Producers are certainly key elements of any motion picture project.

But I think it not letting the cat out of the bag to divulge that their primary function, traditionally, is to secure funding and oversee the business side of the endeavor.

Creatively, the really smart producers know that they are about as needed or welcome as a backseat driver.

So giving the Best Picture award to the producers is not just a little like giving the Super Bowl trophy to the owner of the team instead of the coach whose direction got them there .

Oh. Wait. They do that, too.

Well, another blog, another day.

In the meantime, the Oscar fix requires only a clear grasp of the obvious.

Eliminate the Best Director category.

And the best director of the year is automatically the director of the film that is chosen Best Picture.

The director alone takes the walk of fame, graciously acknowledging the team that helped put it all together, but clearly accepting, and deserving, credit for being the captain on the bridge.

And the producers are free to be part of the post game pictures, celebrations, even ad nauseum TV tabloid interviews.

Hell, they can even touch the damn thing if they want.

Provided, of course, it's okay with the director.

After all, it's he or she who won it.

"...And Here's To You, Mr. and Mrs. America..."

The line is one of those considered "timeless".

"...one word, Benjamin...plastics..."

The film, of course, the seminal 1968 Mike Nichols work, "The Graduate."

That line, though, could have just as easily, I think, been delivered this way.

"...one word, Benjamin...politics..."

That particular slant occurred to me as I was reading a news story about Barack Obama having a physical exam.

Nothing out of the ordinary there.

Which, I suddenly realized, was exactly the point.

It was just a scant fifteen months ago, that America, in a frenzy of passion and zealousness and, dare we still say, hope, rushed to the polls in record numbers to elect this man the first African American President of the United States.

And a lot of those Americans believed, without thinking, that the man they were rushing to elect would be the answer to not only the ills of this country, but the ills of the world, as well.

That's the thing about passion.

Like love, it has a tendancy to blind us to reality.

If only for a few passionate moments.

Fifteen months later, I don't think anyone would offer that the ills of the country, let alone the world, have been cured.

Even those whose passion blinded them fifteen months ago.

Which isn't to say that Barack Obama has failed.

It's simply by way of saying that the passion has passed and reality has resumed it's regularly scheduled programming.

Only time will tell what kind of president Obama turns out to be.

And declaration, or accusations, of both success and failure are not only subjective assessments, they are really only valid when viewed through the lens labeled "hindsight."

I think it fair, though, to say that, at this writing, his presidency is pretty much like the news story about his physical exam.

Nothing out of the ordinary there.

But, for some strange reason, when I pondered all of this, what jumped into my mind was the classic final scene from the classic movie about Benjamin Braddock and his post college angst.

Watch the scene for yourself...and then I'll explain the method to my madness...





Picture this...

Obama supporters/zealots, etc are represented by Ben as he drives, runs, hurries to the church.

Obama himself is represented by Elaine.

Give or take a wedding veil.

And with a passion that is palpable, Ben claims Elaine for his own and the two of them run to catch the bus that will take them away from the now and down the road to happy ever after.

But, just as in reality, passion begins to wane almost immediately.

And the very last moment of that very classic last scene tells it all.

As they look at each other with a mutual expression that can only be read one way.

"uh....now what...?"

Best intentions and heat pounding passions aside, I think pretty much the same thing that happened to Ben and Elaine happened to America and Barack.

And, ergo, The Gradute now can fairly be called a political film.

Because the ending of that movie perfectly mirrors another ending.

And reality resumes it's regularly scheduled programming.

The presidency of Barack Obama.

So far, nothing out of the ordinary there.