There are so many dead spots in the Oscar broadcast that complaining about them stopped being fun a long time ago. It’s way too easy. The most common complaint is that everything goes on too long–the speeches, the tributes, Nicholson’s leering gaze at Kirsten Dunst. But honestly, would three hours of junk really be that much better than four hours of junk? At least the long version affords you the sensation of witnessing truly epic junk. If the show was great, we’d watch the whole thing no matter how long it took. Heck, right now, the show stinks and we still watch all of it.
No, Oscar’s flaws run much deeper than mere overlength. The entire broadcast, beginning to end, represents a total failure of imagination. But I’m a light-a-candle guy, not a curse-your-darkness guy. So herewith, I present eight suggestions that I guarantee would turn the Oscar broadcast into the ride of a lifetime. Or at least better than it is now.
(1) The Awards, Part I We all know the drill: presenter, nominees, winner, kiss, trophy, speech. Yawn. You know what would really jazz up this routine? Second place and third place. And while we’re at, how about flashing onscreen what percentage of the vote the top three received? Everybody always says it’s an honor just to be nominated, so fine, let ’em put their ego where their mouth is. Of course, there’s no need to be cruel, which is why we’d stop at third place and leave the two bottom-feeders with their dignity intact. It’s obvious why showing percentages would be delicious, but here’s one perk you may not have considered: next-day headlines like “Spacek pounds Dench by 24.”
(2) The Tributes, Part I During the annual tribute to Academy members who died during the previous year, stick in two people who are still alive. Make sure one of them is somebody who won an Oscar earlier in the evening.
(3) The Reaction Shots This is the most underused weapon in the Oscar arsenal. Choices are usually random at best–look, there’s Kathy Bates!–and, more importantly, there’s never any subtext. So here’s what we do: we replace whoever’s in charge of this with the most gossipy queen in Hollywood. (He’s probably already in the building anyway.) That way, when Russell Crowe wins his award for Best Actor, the camera won’t cut to Denzel Washington (duh) or Billy Crystal (ugh). It’ll cut to someone so much better, the person it should cut to, which is Meg Ryan. Similarly, when Ewan McGregor comes out to present an award to Nicole Kidman, we cut to Tom Cruise. If Tommy Boy turns a little moulin rouge, we may start believing those rumors about what really broke up the marriage.
(4) The Awards, Part II For one category, chosen at random, have the presenter list the nominees and then walk away. The Oscar goes to whichever nominee gets there first. Just picture this. See, we have to say its random so it isn’t suspicious when the category turns out to be Best Supporting Actress, in which British dames Maggie Smith and Helen Mirren are both nominated. Twenty bucks on Mirren.
(5) Miscellaneous Before the show, we secretly replace Sean Penn’s regular coffee with Folger’s.
(6) The Awards, Part III In recent years, while the presenter says “And the Oscar goes to…”, he or she is usually surrounded onscreen by five boxes, one for each nervous nominee. This is boring. Instead of the glamour shots, can’t we dig up pictures of them as toddlers playing naked in the bathtub? After the winner is announced, we use CGI to make their baby picture dance, “Ally McBeal”-style. The losing babies throw digitally-aided tantrums.
One more thing. The following nominees are excused from this humiliation: Halle Berry, Nicole Kidman, Kate Winslet, Renee Zellweger, Jennifer Connelly and Marisa Tomei. They can be as old as they want in their picture.
(7) The Tributes, Part II Following the presentation of the lifetime achievement award, scroll a list of people whose work in the previous year disqualified them from ever receiving a lifetime achievement award. “Congratulations to John Travolta for making this list for the fourth consecutive year.”
(8) The Speeches No avoiding these momentum killers. But the truth is, not all long speeches are bad speeches. Jack Palance, Cuba Gooding–those were absolute classics. And if Jim Carrey ever wins an Oscar, do you really want anyone cutting him off? Of course not. See, the problem with acceptance speeches is the arbitrary 45-second maximum: for some winners it’s way too long, but for others it’s nowhere near enough. What we really need is a sliding scale, a system by which good speeches can go on until their natural conclusion and bad speeches can get nipped in the bud. What we really need, in other words, is a giant gong.
A diminutive sound editor pulls out a three-foot scroll and says he has “just a few people to thank”? GONG! Gwyneth Paltrow gets choked up before she even reaches the podium? GONG! A septagenarian drops to the stage and gives us 15 one-armed push-ups? Well, hold on now, let’s see where this is going.
The big question is, who do we entrust with the power of the gong? We need someone who can represent the tastes of the average American. We need someone with a low tolerance for schmaltz and self-indulgence, but with a soft-enough heart to spot a genuinely moving moment. We need someone who can identify good comedy but who also appreciates the entertainment value of a truly exquisite train wreck. We need someone we can all agree on. We need Eric Estrada.
