An article by Jamie Stuart
We’re
currently living through a middle passage. You know, that section of narrative
where hope is all but extinguished and it appears as if darkness will triumph.
Think: The Empire Strikes Back, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom,
The Two Towers, even The Bush Administration. The multinational
corporations, interested only in market share, have left the business of quality
movies to the smaller boutique divisions. Unfortunately, none of these, from
Focus Features to Fox Searchlight to IFC, has the capacity to launch an Oscar
campaign on the level of Miramax. The end result of this was announced last
Tuesday in the wee hours.
Depending on how you count, Miramax -- or Harvey Weinstein, to be more specific
-- was responsible for between 35-45 nominations. Does this suggest that the
vast majority of quality films from 2002 were released by Miramax? No, it
suggests that they have a monopoly on Oscar campaigning.
How else are we to explain the 10 nominations granted Gangs of New York?
If Miramax is so corrupt as to plant audience members in critics screenings to
laugh and cheer at the appropriate times, then, considering that most of the
national press is located in Manhattan, Harvey’s hometown, there’s no
telling what tactics he used to make sure the major publications saw things his
way. (He’s even been “sneaking” screenings of the more popular Chicago
onto Gangs’ screens to bolster Gangs’ box office numbers. Is
that legal?)
Why is it that a film rated 77% on Rotten Tomatoes, far less than Minority
Report or Far From Heaven, both at 92%, received nothing but praise
from the major critics upon its release, despite calling it “flawed?” Why is
it recently, only as the nominations were close to being announced, and in their
aftermath, have voices like William Goldman and Jack Mathews expressed rage at Gangs
for the botch it is?
William Goldman, probably the most successful screenwriter in modern history,
was right. He echoed sentiments I’ve been blue-facing about for the last few
months -- namely that Martin Scorsese can’t tell a story for his life and that
his best work is behind him.
Marty’s defenders, including the producer Irwin Winkler, believe he deserves
his Oscar regardless of whether he deserves it for this film. Well, if he
doesn’t deserve it for this film, and they want him to win it anyhow, then
they’re sanctioning the same hypocrisy they railed against when he lost to
both Robert Redford and Kevin Costner. If you want him to have an Oscar to honor
his career, give him a lifetime achievement award!
If anybody else had directed Gangs the film would have wound up exactly
where it belongs: down the toilet. If anybody younger than 35 had directed it,
it would’ve been trashed as MTV-style without story or substance. If an older
director had done it, the critics would have pointed out how bloated and over
the hill it was.
How many more times do I have to hear Roger Ebert proclaim Martin Scorsese to
still be the riskiest, most vital filmmaker? He hasn’t been for at least a
decade -- if he ever was.
I still remember the first time I saw anybody call him the best director. It was
on the cover of Premiere, promoting Cape Fear. I did a double -- no
triple take. Huh? All this guy had ever done, from my standpoint at least, were
small, gritty, violent films that were narratively choppy and aesthetically
inconsistent. How’d this guy get so popular? Because he moved his camera fast
and liked to cut too much?
Throughout the 1990s, beginning with the elevation of Raging Bull to the
pantheon of the 1980s, the media consistently adhered to this position of
greatness. During that time, each film he made was grandly ambitious, but
ultimately useless. It was equivalent to the myth of how Alfred Hitchcock’s
output became unimportant as soon as he was elected cinema’s foremost genius.
Scorsese’s films were all made in the mold of “great films” -- classy
genres, polished technique, grand scale -- but they weren’t great films. They
were museum pieces at best.
I
find it interesting that of the younger generation of filmmakers that are now
most heavily influencing the younger generation of enthusiasts -- Paul Thomas
Anderson, David Fincher, Spike Jonze, Kevin Smith, among others -- only two have
received nominations for Best Director: Spike Jonze and Quentin Tarantino.
(Okay, M. Night Shayamalan.) And if we’re to consider that this generation
came of age in 1994, that’s two nominations in eight years. With the exception
of Pulp Fiction and In the Bedroom none has received a Best Picture nod. Even
Alexander Payne was excluded this year for About Schmidt.
This is suggesting a very serious disconnect within the industry. All of the
1970s brats easily won nominations -- and won Oscars. Every major young director
from that generation received kudos straight up. Friedkin won for The French
Connection. Bogdonovich got nominated for The Last Picture Show.
Spielberg had picture or director nominations for both Jaws and Close
Encounters. Lucas got nominated for both American Graffiti and Star
Wars. Scorsese had a picture nod for Taxi Driver. And Coppola was
nominated for about a billion awards, including at least several million wins.
Are the baby boom critics even remotely aware that the two most influential
films of recent years for the younger generation have been Fight Club and
Magnolia? Why? Because they feel they’re the most honest and daring
works in a generation. The mainstream press was either mixed for the clumpy and
overreaching Magnolia, or outright hostile toward Fight Club, possibly
the most conceptually relevant film of our society up until Minority Report.
(I had written my own script, in 1995, called Untitled, that was sort of
a combination of the two, and couldn’t watch them without prejudice.)
So I have this to say...
Listen,
you has-beens, let go of the fucking reigns! Your time has passed! Move on and
get out of the way! How many movies or TV shows do I have to watch glorifying
the 1960s? Or read about the 1970s Golden Age of American film? Fuck off!
STOP FEEDING US YOUR PAST! IT’S OUR TURN! DON’T LET THE DOOR HIT YOUR ASS!
I have a solution. Since we all agree that the Oscars NEVER make the right
choices, let’s just start ignoring them. Treat them as the irrelevant
gibberish they are. If we don’t agree with them, then why do we consider them
so highly? It’s conditioning. Fuck ‘em.
Any awards that choose Ron Howard over Robert Altman, or Rocky over Network
and Barry Lyndon, or Kramer vs. Kramer over Apocalypse Now
and All That Jazz, is totally full of crap! The only two things that made
me happy in recent years were Kate Hudson’s loss, and the quick shot at last
year’s telecast of fellow nominee David Lynch consoling Robert Altman upon
Howard’s win.
And where did they come up with Peter O’Toole as their choice for lifetime
achievement? Not that he doesn’t deserve something, but isn’t that totally
random and totally safe? They should’ve given it to Altman to make up for last
year’s outrage. Hello?
Back to this year’s evil doings. Simply put, Scorsese doesn’t deserve this
Oscar. He’s gone around to every party and hit every TV show. For all his
ass-sucking has anybody noticed that Roman Polanski got nominated without doing
any press at all? And he’s a fugitive.
If the Academy wants to reward somebody’s career, in particular the most
personal film they’ll ever make, then give the award to Polanski.
And show some backbone -- don’t vote for Miramax. They got their nominations.
Good for them. They can put ‘em right alongside Chocolat.
Next year, hopefully, hope will triumph. I think it’s pretty well assumed that
The Return of the King will sweep everything. I have no problem with
that. Peter Jackson’s trilogy is the most astonishing film spectacle since
Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey.
One generation has taken us far as it can. It’s time for another to finally take over. We’re still trudging through this middle passage. Let’s hope life imitates art in the end. How ‘bout a happy ending for a change? Remember, the Nativists were ultimately defeated.
-Copyright
2003 by Jamie Stuart