Pictured: Heath Ledger.
I've been reading film writer David Thomson's history of Hollywood, The Whole Equation, which is filled with Thomson's interesting, crass and sometimes spot-on observations. Throughout its history, Hollywood's star-making machinery has been utilized by cynics, opportunists, lots of investment bankers and myriad ancillary businesses from exotic gardeners to whorehouse madams, but also by dreamers who have intuited the hard-to-articulate magic contract between audience and star. Thomson's book muses at length on the movie business's inherent duality ( fantasy vs. reality ) that rose along with the Dream Factory and its cultural institutions.
Thomson's paragraphs about the early beginnings of the Academy Awards illustrate this—for the Oscars were begun as an afterthought. In late 1926 Louis B. Mayer, the most powerful film mogul in Hollywood during the golden era, first proposed an organization of the town's other top dogs, an elitist group of powerbrokers that would band together for a dual purpose—to socialize and more importantly, to help mediate labor disputes with the hope that unions would not find a firm footing at the studios. The membership was chosen from the top branches of every aspect of filmmaking. The organization would also give out awards annually to its own and, with this stroke of brilliance, the Oscars were born.
As Thomson describes it, though the power of the film companies was eventually tested by labor, nothing could stop the power of the annual Academy Awards 'from preserving the legend that the movies are a binding part of our experience.' It seems ironic, as we approach the 80th anniversary of the awards, to find labor and the ceremony at a stand-off. 'And then the strike happened,' Bruce Vilanch, the gay icon and veteran contributing writer to 17 past Oscar ceremonies told me with a touch of sadness last November when talking about the writer's walkout. I nodded in agreement, understanding exactly what he was saying—I want the writers to get their fair share, but I want the magic of the Oscars, too. It's the gay man's national holiday after all.
Like much in life and particularly at the movies, a form of entertainment designed to fulfill and articulate our dreams, the reality is not quite as magical as we would like to believe. Sometimes the duality is blatant—the veil bluntly lifted—as it was at this year's Oscar nomination press conference. On top of the question of what form the ceremony will take this year ( if at all ) the announcement was tinged with the tragic news later that same day that Heath Ledger, one of the movie's brightest young actors—and, yes, stars—had died at the shockingly young age of 28. Musings about whether or not Angelina Jolie got dissed by not getting a nod for A Mighty Heart ( trumped by Juno's snot-nosed Ellen Page—go ahead, sue me ) or that The Hoax, one of the year's best pictures, was dismissed while overenthusiasm rained down on the not bad/not great Juno and okay No Country for Old Men at once seemed trivial.
Daniel Day-Lewis, who was tapped for his riveting performance in There Will Be Blood, addressed this when he was interviewed by Oprah Winfrey in a show about this year's nominees. The reluctant star interrupted the talk to discuss the terrible loss of a fellow actor and was visibly moved. Winfrey was taken aback ( diversion from Oprah's agenda is rare ) but quickly seemed relieved that Lewis brought up the subject—an elephant in the room—and thanked him for doing so, though getting back on track to the 'what are you going to wear/where were you when you heard' questions was tougher. Oscar, the potent symbol of movie magic and glamour, doesn't mix easily with real-life events.
For gay people, Ledger's loss coming on Oscar nomination day once again had the effect of opening the scab that hasn't quite healed with regard to the Brokeback Mountain loss for Best Picture in 2005. I wanted Capote to win—I still prefer it, though I recognize and love Brokeback, too. But to see Brokeback lose to Crash ( which made sense at the time to me ) very quickly in hindsight seemed a sad step back for Our People. In losing Ledger, we lost a straight actor unafraid to play gay characters and speak up for our rights while firmly insisting that playing gay was no big deal. There have been very few leading men ( straight or closeted gay ) —or women for that matter—willing to do the same thing. I mourn the roles that might have been. I mourn Ledger's sensitivity and fair-mindedness.
Acceptance is coming in the social stratum for gays, but movies are still the great leveler and we are still lagging behind. Most moviemakers have worked for over 100 years to keep Our People shunted to one side or out of sight completely, while we have unfailingly kept the magic of their movies in our hearts and continue to do so. But we're not the only group still dreaming. Nor are we the only group caught up in the weird dance of embrace/denounce that has been part of the implicit contract between the Dream Merchants and the audience. From the beginning, the Oscars have had trouble deciding between 'success' ( i.e., most profitable and beloved by audiences ) and the 'best' ( i.e., those with enduring power and the promise of lasting 'art' ) . This is another duality the Oscars are not going to sort out any time soon.
After mooning about all this movie stuff throughout most of the day, I took a look at the rest of nominations and my heart leapt. Finally, for LGBT audiences, there was some good news—spectacularly good news, in fact. Documentary director Cynthia Wade, a married mother of two and my new personal nominee for Friend of the Community, had gotten a nod in the Documentary Short Subject category for the movie Freeheld, which is about the struggle over pension benefits for a lesbian couple.
I hope she wins and gets to make one of those heartfelt speeches that will momentarily unite the world in sympathy for Our People and silence our denouncers. But even if she doesn't, here at last is proof positive that reality and dreams can co-exist at the Oscars. My Oscar fantasies can once again commence.
Check out my archived reviews at www.windycitytimes.com or www.knightatthemovies.com . Readers can leave feedback at the latter Web site, where there is also ordering information on my new book of collected film reviews, Knight at the Movies 2004-2006.
