After the revelation that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is comprised mainly of white men with a median age of 62, a lot of people who have apparently missed the past, oh, 50 or so years of Oscar results have been up in arms, the penny finally dropping that the Academy’s long held preference for mawkish hokum over though-provoking filth might be down to the fact that the all of the voters polled have chronic haemorrhoids, and are uncomfortable enough as it is, thank you very much. Others have cited the that this may be the source of some of the inate racism and sexism the Academy has been accused of at points over the years.
But wait! What’s everyone’s problem with white 62-year-old men? Some of my best friends will be white 62 year old men one day. And I resent the implication that it’s a demographic entirely comprised of boring, entitled, disengaged Neanderthals.
Now before we start, I KNOW that the Oscars are a big stupid parade and don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. I get this. If EXTREMELY LOUD AND INCREDIBLY CLOSE and THE HELP sweep the board, I honestly won’t give a shit.
But what the Oscar noms does do is give us all an excuse to talk and debate about the films themselves, along with the people who we think deserved recognition for all their hard work, and those we didn’t. That’s what this needlessly long blog is about, not the import or relevancy of an award show that I most likely won’t even watch – it’s a celebration of all the great stuff that I saw this year, along with the occasional snide remark about stuff I don’t like. I hope this is OK with you.