Why the Oscars Matter

It’s pretty easy to dismiss awards shows, like the upcoming Academy Awards, as pointless. Every awards season, you’ll hear the same mumblings about how the winners don’t really matter, it’s just Hollywood patting itself on the back, and other short-sighted dismissals of the ceremony.

To some degree, they are correct; the Academy Awards, and other awards shows, were originally formed by professionals within the industry to promote their artistic works. The concept of naming particular creative minds and talents in entertainment as the “Best” of that year was devised, essentially, as an elaborate marketing tool.

However, I find that awards ceremonies mean more with the passage of time than in that respective year. They’re a time capsule into pop culture of a specific moment in history, and are a great way to start venturing into film from a bygone era.

I am very fortunate to have had parents who shared classic films, like the works of Billy Wilder and Alfred Hitchcock, with us growing up. Sure, it kind of set my sisters and me apart culturally from our peer group (how many kids can quote Sunset Boulevard?), but it set a great foundation for our love of movies and for building a genuine interest in older films. From the movies our parents shared with us, my sisters and I went off in our own directions: the older sister going through a Grace Kelly phase, another delving into late 1980s / early 1990s camp, and me going for Oscar winners from yesteryear.

The building blocks my parents set, starting with Academy Award winners, were a perfect gateway into lesser-known and, in some cases, better movies that I would never have stumbled upon otherwise. I rented Roman Polanski’s The Pianist by Roman Polanski, who I had never heard of as a pre-teen, soon after he won the Oscar for Best Director. From there I wanted to see more works by him, which led me to his terrific older films, like Rosemary’s Baby and Chinatown. I ended up liking those even more than The Pianist, so I’m grateful for the Academy Awards for first putting this director on my radar and indirectly bringing me to other films I would love.

Awards shows are more than just time capsules, of course, and can get us to enjoy entertainment we wouldn’t have even considered before seeing it listed on a nominees ballot. In the past few years, I have made a point to see all the Best Picture nominees by Oscars night. (TIP: It makes watching the awards WAY more fun when you know what’s at stake!) This introduced me to what have become two of my favorite contemporary films, Up in the Air and Silver Linings Playbook, neither of which I would have seen had they not been up for Oscars.

Sure, on some level they may be self-congratulatory, but awards shows have introduced me to what are now some of my favorite artistic works. They are a great tool for acculturating yourself and exploring new cultural horizons. Future generations may look to today’s nominees, like La La Land, Moonlight, and Arrival, as entry points to develop their own love of film. Everyone needs to start somewhere, and the Oscars are a terrific gateway.

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Purple Rain: A Traditional Musical with an Anti-Traditional Score

West Side Story. Singin’ in the Rain. My Fair Lady. Ask any film fan for a classic example of the Hollywood musical, and these are the ideas that first come to mind. And they’d be absolutely correct; each of these classics, and more, helped define and refine the genre. The electrifying 1984 film Purple Rain thrust the movie musical into the 1980s with a spectacular dossier of rock, pop, and funk songs, all framed within the traditional Broadway musical structure.

hqdefaultThe opening number “Let’s Go Crazy” functions as a perfect musical introduction: establishing the time, the place, and the main players all embedded in one song. Our hero Prince (playing The Kid) performs onstage with his band The Revolution, as his flashy rival Morris Day and future love interest Apollonia each arrive at the First Avenue nightclub. Small but character-defining vignettes catch us up to speed as to who they are in the Minneapolis universe, and instantly set the foundation for the drama to unfold.

The “I Want” song, a staple of Broadway musicals, appears in the same setting, sung by Prince only, but can apply to all members of the neon love triangle. He wails “The Beautiful Ones,” an unstoppable power ballad demanding, “Do you want him, or do you want me? ‘Cause I want you.”Prince sings this directly to Apollonia, and it certainly applies the other way around, as well as from Morris Day to Apollonia. Even beyond the romance itself, the potential jealousy and obsession puts Prince’s career at stake. Prince and Morris have a deep-seeded feud, and the sudden appearance of Apollonia into town might just be enough to push them over the edge. They are enemies both in their careers and in their love lives, raising the stakes to dangerously personal levels.

For the grand finale, this purple package is all wrapped up by a one-two-three punch  of the songs “Purple Rain,” “I Would Die 4 U,” and “Baby I’m a Star.” After scenes of high drama and disturbing violence, “Purple Rain” is the thoughtful, mature ballad to redeem Prince and all his mistakes. This deeply personal song pierces through the club crowd and they beg for more, so he returns to the stage for the rollicking pop songs “I Would Die 4 U” and “Baby I’m a Star.” From the audience’s reaction, it is clear that the Revolution’s future at the club is guaranteed, and Prince even shares a charming smile with Apollonia, watching from the crowd; we know they’ll work out in the end. In one extended sequence, we go from mournful and introspective to celebratory, charming, and triumphant.

What Purple Rain is arguably missing is an Eleven O’Clock Number: a big, energy-driving Act Two song to propel us through the end of the show. The film takes an extended break from music, as romantic tensions rise between Prince and Apollonia, Prince grapples with his parents’ violent relationship, and he struggles to make amends with The Revolution. The energy deflates from the film, and Prince is forced to get his life back together.

This decision is an important one, as the third act is all about Prince rebuilding himself after he’s sunk so low. He cleans up his life, focuses on his music, and opens his mind to allow in others’ ideas. The reawakening comes not from some song pulsing through him, but an internal journey and choice that only he can make. The music literally stops until he has redeemed himself.

tumblr_m6khz1luin1qcvaxho1_500By working in a classical musical structure, Purple Rain introduced an incredibly niche culture to a wide audience. The smoky nightclubs and pop-funk stylings of the Minneapolis Sound were just at the brink of explosion across the airwaves, and it admittedly is a unique world. The enormous hair, outrageous styles, and dripping sexuality may have seemed otherworldly to moviegoing audiences of the 1980s. It becomes easier to digest and packs more of an emotional punch when framing this world bizarre into a familiar, traditional narrative structure. Our hero, villain, love interest, and outlining the foreign landscape within a standard musical theater context, allowing a mainstream audience who’d never step foot in the First Avenue nightclub to enjoy and partake in the wonders and beauty of Purple Rain. “It’s time we all reach out for the new, that means you too.”



This blog post is part of the 31 Days of Oscar Blogathon 2017 hosted by Aurora’s Gin Joint, Outspoken & Freckled, and Paula’s Cinema Club. Check out the full lineup here!

Criterion Book Club: “Making a Film” by Federico Fellini

Much like the films he directs, Federico Fellini’s book Making a Film is a fluid, stream-of-consciousness work that ebbs and flows across time, places, and subjects. And like his films, it casts an undeniable spell and is completely enchanting.

I name it as a general “book,” as it is part memoir, film theory, and sociological study all at once. What initially drew me to it, besides Fellini’s name, was the potential of new insight into his films, and Making a Film certainly delivers as expected: he shares the juvenile experiences that inspired Roma and Amarcord, outlines the the larger-than-life iconography of 8 1/2, and provides perspective on nearly all his films. (I would have liked more on La dolce vita, one of my favorites!)

Beyond its insights on filmmaking, however, Fellini’s text most impressed me with its thoughtful perspective society. His recurring theme of clowns throughout his film is certainly discussed here, and he offers a thought-provoking world view from this lens. He argues everyone is one kind of clown: the White Clown, authoritative, cruel, foreboding; and the auguste, primitive, playful, childlike, and naive. The two exist as foils, and can be defined negatively when paired against each other. He goes so far as to list off who he considers to be which kind of clown.

In my very favorite passage, he reflects on how the struggle of making a film runs parallel to everyday life and struggling to get by. Even when entering a situation with set expectations, it’s important to stay flexible and adapt to what life has to offer. In Fellini’s words:

Making a film isn’t about obstinately attempting to adapt reality to preconceived notions; making a film also means knowing how to recognize, accept, and utilize the progressive changes that preexisting ideas are subjected to by the continuous, parallel coming into being of what happens.

Making a Film is an enriching read, both for devotees of Fellini’s filmography, casual students or film, or even someone who knows nothing of his works. It is a meditation on the creative process and finding inspiration and motivation in the most unlikely places. Like his films, he humanizes and romanticizes the everyday, transforming the mundane into something miraculous and beautiful.

Fifty Shades Darker (2017)

I’m not putting that in my butt!

 

Fifty Shades of Grey was such spectacular so-bad-it’s-good trash that I was concerned its successor would not live up to the promise of the original. Fortunately, I was proved wrong: Fifty Shades Darker is a frequently hilarious, totally implausible, and utterly delightful trip back into Christian Grey’s sex den.

When we last saw Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey, Miss Steele had broken things off with Christian, no longer able to abide by his preposterous dominant-submissive contract. She finds herself lonely and longing for him, and when he reaches out to her, she proposes a change in contractual terms, and he agrees.

From here on out it’s another wacky fantasy. Christian takes Anastasia out to masquerade balls, yacht voyages, and even sends her $24,000. He also continues to push her boundaries sexually, including one memorable scene where he sticks metal balls inside…her.

The onscreen action is all so silly, and the dialogue treating the absurd material with such weight and seriousness makes the adventure all the more laughable. My audience roared with laughter throughout, particularly at Dakota Johnson’s pretty awful acting – always wafting between pleasure, curiosity, and cringing her neck when she’s mad, without a whit of subtlety. Poor Jamie Dornan does the best he can do in a movie where uses a medieval contraption to keep a woman’s legs apart.

This is not a film to be taken seriously, but if you enter it with an open mind (and maybe a drink or two), it’s a fun and occasionally sexy romp.