Oscars, Schmoscars
Art is not the place for debate and discourse
My friend whom I’ll call Kathleen has recently been beset by medical issues.
She was not able, therefore, to offer the regular Oscar party she has hosted over a substantial number of years.
Her husband, before retiring, used to produce the In Memoriam segment. My dear, longtime pal, the late Gil Cates, won Emmys for producing the whole bloody show. My bride and I, clad respectively in gown and tux, even attended the extravaganza in person a decade or so ago.
That said, I’ve regularly found the show to be a bloated, self-congratulatory bore. Movies are an art form, and art is not a prizefight with winners and losers. Creative expression does not require standings like major league baseball. At Kathleen’s parties, the show would play quietly in the background while everyone more or less ignored it, turning to the screen only occasionally, curious to know who won best actor/actress, screenplay, director, and picture.
This year, at my house, we didn’t tune in at all until the last half hour.
I am aware, therefore, that Oppenheimer took home the premium statuette.
Friends whom I love and respect aver that they loved Oppenheimer. I am myself an atomic bomb history buff. Throughout my life…
