I started writing this Oscars column with the goal of explaining the power of awards shows to channel our collective emotions.
How in the midst of unimaginable bushfire tragedies, they can heal our souls like Barbra Streisand at the Emmy Awards after September 11Or unite our differences Just as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s posthumous victory did At the 1971 Grammy Awards, or even directing our anger as Michael Moore at the Oscars At the beginning of the Iraq War in 2003.
A well-choreographed Oscars ceremony on March 2, with some wonderful tributes from the victims and a undoubtedly powerful acceptance speech or two, will be exactly what Los Angeles and the country need — a National Thanksgiving Dinner, which awards shows, at their best, can be. Like an Oscars ceremony. I managed to be.
Forget all that.
Now I think the Oscars have to completely overhaul their formula in 2025. They have to do something even more radical: marginalize the awards portion entirely.
On Sunday, Rosanna Arquette Suggested on Instagram That the Oscars should be turned into “the greatest TV show in the world.” Not since Roberta hit Nolan over the head with a wine bottle Desperately seeking Susan Arquette dealt a heavy blow.
The Academy just said the Oscars will go ahead as planned but without some of the glamor that preceded it, like the nominees luncheon (and with several Academy governors losing their homes in the fires). They’re clearly still figuring out the look and tone of this year’s show. But if they simply continued to push forward with the usual slate of bidders and acceptances under gloomier lights and took time to get the honors, it would seem… not exactly tone-deaf, but certainly like a missed opportunity.
Instead, I think the show should be a massive arts-based awareness campaign of the kind that was best done in the 1980s, while also trying to reclaim the spectacle of every Oscar decade except the last one. A television broadcast that will simultaneously provide the must-see qualities that we all lament the awards now lack while giving fundraisers the kind of glamor they haven’t had in decades. Think Farm Aid delivers Titanic year.
Here’s one way it could look:
Each nominee comes with an extra person, but it must be someone affected by the bushfires. It could be a third-generation homeowner in Altadena, or it could be a movie person from Palisades. As long as they lost something. Because it would be pointless to make this offer and ignore the loss.
Then, when the winner is announced, instead of thanking every manager, agent and publicist, the trophy bearer will be encouraged to talk about the person affected by the wildfires — not what brought the winner to this moment but the moments that made their guest who they are. Instead of being Hollywood robots, the winners will humanize everyday Angelenos. If they wish, the guest can accompany the winner to the stage and speak about themselves.
For the individual winners, this creates a powerful scene – a major celebrity taking the stage with an ordinary person. And let that person be the star.
For the group winners, it will take the freight train of people no one knows and turn it into a group of what was lost.
Another element: the charitable part. This would work best not where the typical prizes show an obedient margin but are integrated directly into the reveal of the winner. Each candidate will name an organization they value – a victims’ fund, a fire charity, an environmental group or a shelter. The narrator then calls out each nominee’s charity as the nominations are listed. Then, when the winner takes to the stage, that charity will be shown on screen, and will have the opportunity to describe it in more detail, to encourage people to donate.
Prime-time fundraisers can be cheesy, or at least not the best TV. But if done skillfully, using text or a QR code (and maybe some self-deprecating humor from host Conan O’Brien), it will not only get passed around, but raise huge sums of money for people who need it. (The Grammys have already announced that they will create a charitable component to their show on February 2, but have not determined how they will do so yet.)
Finally – and this is the most difficult part – I think at least some of the Oscars should be filmed remotely from scenes of destruction. Sure, you still have the tuxedos and gowns at Dolby. But there is devastation, and the Oscars would do no one any favors if they tried to sweep it under the rug. The camera should move to locations in Palisades, Altadena and other places where people can tell their stories. One reason the Oscars have lost their luster is that they feel forced and choreographed in an age where social media (at least in theory) delivers raw, unfiltered material. This would make great use of that last spirit. And the victims of the platform, too.
I realize this is a big pivot for the Academy and ABC, both logistically and spiritually.
To them I say two things. First, it will be a ratings bonanza. Who doesn’t tune in to see their favorite stars left vulnerable, or some of the heartbreaking and/or inspiring stories we’ve been thirsting for over the past week on social media? Who doesn’t listen to the sheer humanity of some people you wouldn’t expect to be human?
But that’s for bean counters. For the rest of us, the argument is simple. The Oscars for Agricultural Aid will be an opportunity to take one of the country’s biggest television platforms and use it for good and for good old-fashioned spectacle, the kind that is simultaneously tragic and exhilarating, exciting and edifying.
It will be an Oscars ceremony for the ages. It might, for a moment, make us feel better about the state of the world.
Your move, academy!
