Oscar Baiting. A Necessary Evil

Michael Bay: Fuck yeah

Hyperbole, like the 5000 metre pacemaker who fades away once fatigue, reality and all it's disappointments kick in, follows all major films around. Michael Bay's pictures always open amidst a torrent of generally negative opinion, yet rack up box office numbers akin to a jammed calculator. Conversely, the next Mike Leigh movie will probably start life as a critical darling before taking just enough at the box office to fund the expenses of the tea boy.



Curvy girls. Indeed.



This hype is all part of the ride, it leads us to films we may not always be inclined to go and watch, and for this I'm eternally grateful. And it takes an eternal optimist (or deluded fool) not to take all pieces of praise and criticsm and treat them both with a healthy dose of scepticism.

But around this time of year, the media frenzy briefly (very briefly) departs from highlighting the 'Thrills' (Marie Claire), 'Rip Roaring Comedy' (Cosmopolitan) and 'Pant Browning Action' (The Sun) of summer blockbuster tosh to concentrate on renting our minds as well as our wallets. They target the Oscars.

I was looking forward, and still am, to seeing Gary Oldman deliver the 'performance of a lifetime' in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy', I really am.



But why the fuck is Heat magazine telling me I need to see it because it's a 'rip-roaring tension ride'? Last time I checked, Heat photgraphed Alexa Chung jogging on Hampstead Heath and reported Ashley Cole pining for Cheryl (not Baker). Well, fuck off Heat. Stick to what you know. I don't go telling Steven Hawking that he needs to upgrade his telescope.

German film. About the Stasi. Not a comedy.

Anyway, I digress. Is this Oscar-baiting press coverage really healthy, or even necessary? Well, maybe. Films such as 'Winters Bone' and 'The Lives Of Others' are just 2 examples of films I wouldn't have been aware of had they not been backed to the hilt by studios concerned, hopefully, as much with their artistic merit as their income.



But it can seem that the film industry is obnoxiously out of step with some of it's peers. People probably do get excited by the Brits/Grammy's, but probably not 4 months before they occur. Equally, I'm sure Premier League footballers would all love to win a 'player of the year' nod, but I doubt it takes up a quarter of the season campaigning, and the results tend to be forgotten as quickly as an episode of Hollyoaks.

Of course, we all love getting accolades from our counterparts, those who do the same job as us and assume we put the same amount of effort in as they do. It's human nature to wallow in self-congratulation at times. But for a quarter of the year I would seem slightly foolish lobbying the board members of my company to recognise the outstanding report I handed in eight months earlier.

If you don't have one, you're shit.

But for some reason, although every soundbite pre-ceremony would beg to differ, it matters. No one has ever accepted the Best Actor Oscar with a shrug of the shoulders and a "aw sweet, I'm well happy at that". And why should that be the case? I, for one, love scoping out the Oscar nominees across numerous categories, knowing that with them brings the chance to cast my eye over a movie that may otherwise have slipped by un-noticed. Who cares if they're picking up an award for a film they actually finished working on eighteen months ago? It's all part of the show, a show that, at it's best, can awaken even the hardiest of hearts from it's slumber.



The Weinsteins had finally spotted the hidden camera



Of course it's contrived, and of course the more money Miramax shove behind their campaign for the next piece of Paltrow fluff, the more chance it has of landing on the voting laps of the academy. But this would be missing the point. Hollywood can at times seem a bloated, egotistical and vapid machine that delivers only one the most basic levels of art. But at Oscar time, at the time the money machine can be at it's most crass, is also the time that we're reminded how good it can feel to be served up something we didn't ask for, but in hindsight couldn't do without.