Ten Films That Give Oscar a Bad Name

[Hustler]

The main intention that year was snubbing Reds, the strong candidate.

[Dennis Bee]

I would just add that with Farber's article, the L.A. Times has been relentless since Oscar night in rubbing the Academy's nose in the Crash imbroglio. This gives me hope that AMPAS will take some action.

[Dennis Bee]

It's interesting that, with the exception of Dennis Bee, nobody seems to remember one of the truly worst Best Pictures in the last decades: "Chariots of Fire". I still remember how shocking this was back then: "Reds", though controversial, was considered to be a sure winner, at least by the Italian press. Even in retrospect, it would have been a far more deserving choice than that mild, unexciting, little British film. But "Reds" was about communists, of course, and communists, like gays, seem to be bound to lose to more conventional fare - at least in the Oscar race.

I saw Chariots at a pre-screening twenty-five years ago and I remember absolutely loathing it, but have more trouble remembering why. "Dull and pedestrian" pretty much does it, however. I thought it was the Rocky formula run through a gauzy Masterpiece Theater lens. The anachronistic Vangelis score accompanying slow motion pushed me over the edge. But there's no question that Chariots represented history the Academy would rather look back on than the history of American communists. The parallels to Brokeback are striking, except that Reds did not enjoy the critical and precursor unanimity of Brokeback and was a box office disappointment.

[ITALIANO]

Yes, "Atlantic City" was probably the best among the five nominees, but nobody at the time thought it had even the slighest chance to win. "Reds" - boring or not (and I don't think it is) - was really the big favorite. "Chariots of Fire" was that year's "Crash".

[Okri]

I never understood why Chariots of Fire was so lambasted. It may not have been the best film of the year (I prefer Atlantic City), but I actually think it represents one of the finer choices the academy made during the 80s (backhanded compliment, I know). I've watch it several times and it never fails to keep me completely glued to the screen.

It also helps that I find Reds to be a lumbering bore of a movie.

I liked both The English Patient and Fargo, so I've never understood how the former outrageously robbed the latter in any way. I would have given my vote in '96 to Breaking the Waves.

I completely agree.

[The Original BJ]

It's interesting that, with the exception of Dennis Bee, nobody seems to remember one of the truly worst Best Pictures in the last decades: "Chariots of Fire".

I actually just saw Chariots of Fire for the first time several days ago and I was absolutely shocked at what a dull, pedestrian, and thoroughly uninvolving film it was. Although the score is now famous, I was surprised to hear it played only over the opening and closing credits, not within the film. Plus, I've always found the main theme thrilling, and I still do, but it struck me as completely out of place in the film. This is 1920s Europe and there's a throbbing techno synth score?! I am now convinced that John Williams was robbed.

[ITALIANO]

It's interesting that, with the exception of Dennis Bee, nobody seems to remember one of the truly worst Best Pictures in the last decades: "Chariots of Fire". I still remember how shocking this was back then: "Reds", though controversial, was considered to be a sure winner, at least by the Italian press. Even in retrospect, it would have been a far more deserving choice than that mild, unexciting, little British film. But "Reds" was about communists, of course, and communists, like gays, seem to be bound to lose to more conventional fare - at least in the Oscar race.

[The Original BJ]

I've never understood the English Patient bashing either. I haven't seen the film in several years, but I remember enjoying it, and I've been meaning to catch up with it again now that I own the DVD. Specifically, I was impressed with the way Anthony Minghella adapted Ondaatje's novel, preserving its essence, yet developing an original cinematic narrative thread unlike so many other cinematic adaptations, which remain hopelessly tied to the page.

I liked both The English Patient and Fargo, so I've never understood how the former outrageously robbed the latter in any way. I would have given my vote in '96 to Breaking the Waves.

On another note, I've been thinking about how most of these lousy choices fall into two categories: films that won over weak slates (even if the lineups included superior films), and films that won over terrific slates.

I'd say '52 and '56 fit the former. High Noon and The Quiet Man would have made much better choices than The Greatest Show on Earth, but the omission of several of the year's masterpieces (Singin' in the Rain, Rashomon) made for a relatively weaker lineup. Ditto the year Around the World in 80 Days won. Giant and The King and I are both fine films, but the year's great films (The Searchers, All That Heaven Allows, The Seven Samurai) were all left off the list. It would seem like weaker slates would help films like High Noon and Giant, maybe not great-great films, but certainly superior to their competition. But instead, the lack of a single great frontrunner seemed to allow these lesser choices to slip through.

'76 and '01 are examples of the latter, and have been discussed many times. The only way to explain Rocky's win over four superior films is that neither All the President's Men, Bound for Glory, Network, and Taxi Driver rose to the top, allowing for the more populist choice to sneak in. Ditto when A Beautiful Mind won. The Fellowship of the Ring, In the Bedroom, and Gosford Park all would have made great choices, (and if Moulin Rouge isn't a great film, I still think it's one of the most uncharacteristically original moves by the Academy in recent years), but without one of them leading the pack, the quality vote was split all over the place, giving the overly-sentimental crowd (whose choices like Seabiscuit and Finding Neverland rarely contend in other years) a victory.

Crash's victory this year falls into neither category, which is what makes its win even more dubious. The slate WASN'T weak (two great films, a very good one, and no embarrassment a la Chocolat or Seabiscuit), but it wasn't overly strong either (with one clear frontrunner sailing through awards season.) For what it's worth, I think we all took for granted Brokeback's nearly unstoppable awards train. Early in the season, someone made a comment about Brokeback not being the kind of film that sails to a Best Picture trophy so easily, and I know I just got used to it being a shoo-in that its sudden loss hurt so much. What's still most surprising to me, though, is that Brokeback lasted as long as it did without a backlash, surviving all the way to the very...last...second before losing the biggest prize of all. I continue to be surprised at the immediate backlash against Crash, but I am glad that critics and commentators have taken the Academy to task on what will only be seen as an embarrassing choice, both aesthetically and politically, in years to come.

[Dennis Bee]

Dennis, I'm glad you mentioned Edward R. Murrow's participation in Around The World In 80 Days, as I had completely forgotten about it -- as, I suspect, did the entire rest of the world or elsy SOMEBODY in some entertainment outlet would have mentioned it in connection with David Strathairn's nomination.

I've said many times that. in my opinion, How Green Was My Valley was the best movie ever to win Best Picture, it just wasn't the best picture of 1941.

The Murrow prologue and the Saul Bass epilogue are included on the DVD; also TCM has in the past couple of years been showing the full version that includes both.

Your point about How Green Was My Valley is well taken. All About Eve and Godfather II, which show up on most lists of the 10 Best Best Pictures were also not the best films nominated in their years, IMO. Sunset Boulevard and Chinatown, respectively, were. We should have such embarrassments of riches now. IMO, however, last year presented such a cornucopia. Million Dollar Baby is one of the best Best Pictures, but I would have voted for either The Aviator or Sideways.

Actually, Warners created lots of havoc by moving M$B out of early 2005, its intended release date. Not only would Scorsese have won last year without it in the race, but M$B in this year's race probably would have saved us from the Crash debacle. However, the Crash furor needed to happen if only to shine a light on the Academy's ugly homophobia.

[Greg]

You can count me as another English Patient lover.

[Mister Tee]

A problem with the "historical context" thing is, even in such contexts, there would be dissenters (as in 1941, and, here, 1999). How much deference we give to the predominant view can by governed by whether we were there at the time to be part of the dissent. I'd say, for instance, Forrest Gump was the overwhelming popular phenomenon of 1994, yet I don't hear much rush to defend its best picture win, because lots of us were on-scene to be disheartened by its choice. We may not feel the same about Around the World in 80 Days because it was before most of our times.

This, like most "worst Oscar choices" articles, wavers between consensus views and personal quirks. I'd endorse some of Farber's picks, but vociferously protest his including The English Patient, which I put in the top 10 or 20 choices ever (I never, aside from McDomand, worshipped at the altar of Fargo). I think dissing the film just became trendy after the Seinfeld thing (if you want to trash a big, literarily-inclined epic, do like Dennis and chose the far less complex Out of Africa), and the very idea that Farber could pick it over Braveheart or A Beautiful Mind makes me dismiss his whole thesis. (As does his championing Galdiator and Cider House Rules)

[Damien]

Dennis and Magilla, it's great that you put things into their historical perspective, which one must do if the Oscars are to serve any value as a cultural history touchstone.

Dennis, I'm glad you mentioned Edward R. Murrow's participation in Around The World In 80 Days, as I had completely forgotten about it -- as, I suspect, did the entire rest of the world or elsy SOMEBODY in some entertainment outlet would have mentioned it in connection with David Strathairn's nomination.

It's nice that in the artcle Farber treats How Green Was My Valley kindly, instead of simply lambasting it as the movie that beat Citizen Kane, which so many "pundits" do. I've said many times that. in my opinion, How Green Was My Valley was the best movie ever to win Best Picture, it just wasn't the best picture of 1941. (I do not some hard core John Ford people though who maintain that there's no comparison -- How Green is far superior to Kane.)

[Penelope]

You know, I have a soft spot for Around the World in 80 Days. It was one of the first "older" films I ever saw and, then as now, it had a historical setting that thrilled me; plus, all those cameos, I was like, "who's that?" propelling me to the library to find out who all those people were. I then didn't see it for probably 20 years, until it was released on DVD a few years back. I bought it, wondering if--considering how terrible its reputation is--it would still hold up to my memories. The plus, of course, was that I got to see it in its original widescreen glory, and I could immediately understand why it had become such a big hit in 1956. On the other hand, Cantinflas really annoyed me--I coulda done without him. So, it's a good film that wouldn't make my 10 worst Oscar picks, but it doesn't upset me that it should make others' lists.

On the other hand, I, too, would replace Ben-Hur and The English Patient with Braveheart and A Beautiful Mind.

[Big Magilla]

The thing that so many modern journalists do is fail to place winners in historical context. As Dennis points out, Around the World in 80 Days was truly a phenomemnon in its day. In additoin to the points he makes, Mike Todd invented the term "cameo" as an enticement to get so many big stars to play such small roles, and they were all either big stars or very familiar character actors at the time.

The thing that has most tarnished Around the World in 80 Days' reputation is TV. The film simply doesn't play well on small screens.

What separates the bad choices of the 70s, 80s, 90s and 00s from winners of previous decades is that there was logic to previous wins even if one didn't agree with the choices, there is no logic to modern wins.

The Broadway Melody, creaky as it is, was the screen's first story driven musical, and as such must have been a revelation to filmgoers in its day, never mind that The Love Parade and Applause were just around the corner. They weren't eligible for consideration.

Cimarron gave the screen its first adult themed western, never mind that it was really a tearjerker. There was so much bad press against gangster films at the time that it is as understandable as it is wrong that Little Caesar and The Public Enemy were ignored and Chaplin's refusal to add dialogue to City Lights was seen as reactionary at the time, so even the choice of Cimarron makes sense in context.

Cavalcade was a revered stage play which ends with a prophetic warning of the coming of World War II, vey eerie in 1933. Today, of course, it pales by comparison to its TV counterpart, Upstairs Downstairs, but it was considered high art in its day even if it isn't as much fun as Duck Soup, Dinner at Eight, 42nd Street or King Kong.

The Great Ziegfeld was considered a prestige film. Not only was it MGM's most expenseive film to date, it was the longest film yet made. Louis B. Mayer wanted it to win, and what Mayer wanted, he got.

Frank Capra was considered such a hero by the unions for allowing them to vote at the Oscars that he could do no wrong, even with a wrong-headed films version of You Can't Take It With You.

In 1951 the majority went for A Place in the Sun and A Streetcar Named Desire but were probably split 50/50 as to which was the better film, allowing An American in Paris to slip in. The same phenomenon probably occurred again in 1952 when High Noon and The Quiet Man, not Moulin Rouge, were the front-runners, allowing the exorable, but highly popular, Greatest Show on Earth to slip in.

By the time we get to Rocky in 1976, things had stopped making sense. With films like All the President's Men, Network and Taxi Driver to choose from, there was no excuse for this half pint imitation Capra film to win.

Later choices such as Braveheart, Gladiator and A Beautiful Mind make even less sense. Where were the journalistic outcries when those turkeys won? At least there is hope at the end of the road given the furor over Crash's win.

[Dennis Bee]

It's happily surprising that American Beauty is making these lists now. Damien's book must have really had an impact. Is Farber serious that Cider House Rules and pretentious The Insider were "overlooked"? Mike Clark in USA Today said then that if Cider House scored an upset, it would be the worst Best Picture since Cimarron and Cavalcade. 1999 was a classic year in which the best films weren't nominated: The Matrix, Being John Malkovich, Talented Mr. Ripley (which Farber mentions elsewhere), Eyes Wide Shut, Topsy Turvy, The Red Violin, and the cult favorite, Fight Club.

It's interesting; my worst list is dominated by 80s films--Chariots of Fire, Out of Africa, Driving Miss Daisy. And don't forget that some of these awful Best Pictures were well regarded in their times. Around the World in 80 Days, after all, won the NYFCC. If you look at the original reviews, they were very favorable, praising the film for its wit (S.J. Perelman's script) and Mike Todd's showmanship. This was not one of those choices, like An American in Paris and The Greatest Show on Earth, which raised eyebrows at the time. Next to truly bloated 1956 superproductions like War and Peace and The Ten Commandments, 80 Days did look spritely. It was different enough to be the movie that finally overcame the Academy's resistance in the mid-1950s to widescreen spectaculars. The movie basically grafted a classic novel onto the Cinerama travelogue format; Mike Todd was one of the original investors in Cinerama. Like This is Cinerama, which opened with an Academy ratio intro by Lowell Thomas, 80 Days started with one by Edward R. Murrow, no less. Also the great Saul Bass credit sequence, one of his first, which ended the film, started the trend toward elaborate animated credit sequences and was an unexpected delight to end the film. (Ironically, it was often left off many prints in later revivals, as was the Murrow prologue; I saw a screening in 1970 that left off both.) 80 Days also launched in earnest the roadshow policy that dominated the next fifteen years. Even the title song became a ubiquitous standard, as familiar as Col. Bogey March would be after Bridge on the River Kwai the following year. So this is one whose reception can only be understood by looking at its historical context.