This year, our film critic isn't angry about the Oscars

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It feels strange not being angry about the Oscars.

2023 was a terrific year for film, and in an uncharacteristic display of OK taste, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences selected their least embarrassing slate of nominations in a good long while. While there was some controversy after the initial announcement because “Barbie” was only nominated eight times, I maintain that a billion dollar summer blockbuster scoring the same number of nods that “The Remains of the Day” received 30 years ago is a sign of how much the Academy has loosened up over these past three decades. Or how far their standards have fallen, depending on how you feel about “Barbie.”

I enjoyed it quite a bit, and while it would have been nice to see Greta Gerwig nominated for Best Director, I think it’s more of a scandal that she was slighted a few years ago for her far superior “Little Women.” If you ask me, Margot Robbie delivered one of 2023’s most skillful turns as the titular toy, but the Academy has always shied away from honoring comedic performances in leading roles, generally keeping lighter fare quarantined to the supporting categories. (Some have claimed that Ryan Gosling being nominated for his sublime portrayal of Ken is a sign of sexism. But then how does that explain America Ferrara’s baffling nod for delivering one big speech in an otherwise nothing role?) The real bias here is a slant toward self-seriousness. Comic timing as deft as Robbie’s stands no chance against Carey Mulligan dying of cancer with a mid-Atlantic accent.

What you have to remember is that Oscar voters aren’t necessarily choosing their favorite films and performances, but rather deciding how they wish to present themselves to the world. “Oppenheimer” is a spectacular display of Hollywood craft — a massively popular entertainment with an all-star cast, utilizing all the tools of big-budget, grand-scale storytelling. It’s such a worthy shoo-in for Best Picture that part of me is half-expecting the Academy to screw this up somehow. (It’s the most obvious Best Picture winner since “Titanic.” But then again, I would have said it’s the most obvious Best Picture winner since “Saving Private Ryan,” except they gave it to “Shakespeare in Love” that year instead.)

Take it from the guy who tried to throw the television out his dorm room window when "Forrest Gump" beat "Pulp Fiction" back in 1995, getting too invested in the Oscars will always break your heart.

Take it from the guy who tried to throw the television out his dorm room window when “Forrest Gump” beat “Pulp Fiction” back in 1995, getting too invested in the Oscars will always break your heart. What I’ve learned to love instead about awards season is that for a few weeks it feels like everybody’s talking about movies, going to see things they might otherwise have skipped were it not for the nominations. An art film as austere as “The Zone of Interest” wouldn’t be packing them in at suburban multiplexes without the endorsement of Oscar, and anything that introduces good work to wider audiences is ultimately a great thing for cinema. Even if the choices sometimes drive this critic crazy.

What I’ve run out of patience for is the ceremony itself. Award shows like the Grammys and the Tonys celebrate their history and make a big pitch for their art form to the folks watching at home. But in recent years, the Oscar telecasts have become sour, self-loathing affairs, with hosts and presenters from outside the industry taking cheap shots at the running times and perceived obscurity of the nominated films, ridiculing the craft categories and ditching the lifetime achievement awards that honor living legends in favor of dumb comedy bits designed to go viral amid blatant plugs for ABC’s parent company Disney. I’m not drinking these days, so I have no idea how I’m going to sit through the show this Sunday night.

Maybe I’ll go to a movie instead.