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Final Project Proposal: The Oscars Revisted

When I wrote my original review of the Oscars on Monday morning, I evaluated the ceremony in terms of entertainment value. I considered the show a successful spectacle, complete with dynamite performances from the likes of Adele, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Jennifer Hudson, as well as heartfelt speeches, and a fabulous light show, all of which took place among host Seth MacFarlane's uncomfortable and inappropriate jokes.

But after an in-class conversation in my Sex and Sexualities class on Monday afternoon, I've decided that the entertainment value is not the most important issue at hand. The ceremony needs to be evaluated for its sexist content and for the way it celebrated and reinforced patriarchal values to a billion viewers worldwide. From McFarlane's tasteless "We  Saw Your Boobs" opening number to his final disgusting jab at nine-year-old Quvenzhané Wallis, both the host and the Academy proved that the feminist cause still has so, so far to go.

For my final project, I propose to write a critical essay in which I consider the Academy Awards ceremony through a feminist lens. Specifically I want to look at the moments in the ceremony in which women were devalued, degraded, mocked, humiliated, categorized, labeled, and objectified. I want to revisit MacFarlane's opening number which, in four instances, glorified the breasts shown in rape scenes, as well as made the viewer of these scenes resolutely male. 

I want to look at how MacFarlane's comments about Rhianna and Chris Brown's relationship only perpetuate violence against women. As Amy Davidson from the New Yorker points out, relationships are complicated and if any woman who goes back to an abusive relationship is told she has forfeited sympathy and is now an object of mockery, we're going to end up with more dead women.

I want to consider how the female body is an object for men to control, discuss, and criticize. I want to bring up issues of weight, eating disorders, and body image. I want to look at why a black female child was pushed to the forefront of MacFarlane's jokes. (Was Dakota Fanning ever mocked like this?)  

I want to pair all of these moments with women's actual performances during the Oscars which, to me, prove that women work harder and are a hell of a lot smarter than MacFarlane could ever hope to be. (Adele showed Hugh Jackman up, Jennifer Lawrence waved off male assistance when she fell, Meryl Streep didn't even need an introduction.) 

It's important and necessary to point out that what many women strive to do in the entertainment industry is seriously under-valued and over-criticized. That's precisely what I aim to do in this final project.

By re-watching the Oscars, using my course material from Sex and Sexualities, and reading up on other publications' takes on the ceremony, I will be able to craft a well-informed and well-argued piece.

A Night at the Oscars

There were tears, wipeouts, and whole lot of jokes that just didn’t land at the 85th annual Academy Awards ceremony at the Dolby Theater in Los Angeles, Calif. Yet Sunday night’s show was still an entertaining spectacle, complete with a few surprises.

Ben Affleck was snubbed for a Best Director nod this year, but his passion project Argo took home several awards, including Best Motion Picture, Adapted Screenplay, and Achievement in Film Editing. Affleck used his podium time to deliver a heartfelt and teary-eyed speech in which he thanked his wife, Jennifer Garner, their children, and reminisced about his first Oscar win for Good Will Hunting when he was "just a kid."

Jennifer Lawrence, too, was a bit choked up when she accepted her first ever Academy Award for Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role for Silver Linings Playbook. Having just fallen up the stage steps in front of hundreds of Hollywood A-Listers and a billion television viewers worldwide, a little emotion is normal.

Host Seth MacFarlane’s fumbles were more offensive and deliberate. The Family Guy and Ted creator opened the evening with an uncomfortable number titled, “We Saw Your Boobs,” in which he name-checked various actresses who had bared their breasts in films. His anti-Semitic jokes and plug for John Wilkes Booth were also classless.

Adele, however, sparkled with a performance of the 007 song, “Skyfall,” which she sang with pizzazz and showbiz bravura amid a fabulous light show. The Bond film went on to win Original Song and, for the third time ever in Oscar history, faced a tie with Zero Dark Thirty for Achievement in Sound Editing.

Catherine Zeta-Jones rocked the stage with her rendition of “All That Jazz,” from the 2002 film, Chicago. 10 years later, Zeta-Jones’ performance was every bit as stunning and sexy as her original.  Jennifer Hudson followed in suit by belting out the Dreamgirls hit, “And I’m Telling You I’m Not Going” with gusto.

Anne Hathaway’s Best Actress acceptance speech was a little weird—she whispered, “It came true,” to the statue in her hand—Sandra Bullock had an awkward envelope-opening moment, and Michelle Obama surprised everyone by showing up at the end to announce Best Motion Picture.

Despite the various faux pas, the evening was upbeat, lively, and well received. With a room full of Hollywood’s best, little else is expected.

Hasn't it All Been Said Before?

Oscar Wilde wrote in his essay, The Critic as Artist, "We are sometimes apt to think that the voices that sounded at the dawn of poetry were simpler, fresher, and more natural than ours, and that the world which the early poets looked at, and through which they walked, had a kind of poetical quality of its own, and almost without changing could pass into song."

This quote reflects my experience as a writer. I've often thought that the words I want to write and the critiques I want to give, have already been said before (and said better). I struggle with the ideas of innovation and originality, and making my writing fresh or my own. If only I'd been born earlier, I sometimes think. Or, if only I'd thought of an idea first.

Yet, Wilde also condones impersonation. "The mere creative instinct does not innovate, but reproduces," he wrote. And impersonate, I do. I try to model my writing after the works of my professors at "K," after writers I admire, such as Jon Franklin, Gabrielle Hamilton, or Sam Sifton, and after my peers.

But at the end of the day, I am left wondering, Is my work authentic? Is my work my own? Is it my voice? How can I even identify my voice, when I'm not entirely sure what it sounds like?

How do great writers emerge if every great writer impersonates? When does the replication become the original? The Critic as the Artist raises more questions than answers for me.

In Defense of Pauline Kael

Pauline Kael rarely saw a movie twice. She disliked American icon Charlie Chaplin, deemed award-winning director Steven Spielberg a waste of potential, and once scoffed that Rodgers and Hammerstein’s The Sound of Music was “the single most repressive influence on artistic freedom in movies.”

Yet The New Yorker’s former chief film critic had unabashed voice, taste, and dedication to her medium and to her readers, which shone through in her work during her 23 years on the magazine’s staff (1968 – 1991). Her love for movies meant she asked a lot from them and held screenwriters, producers, actors, and viewers alike up to high standards. Through unapologetic reviews and a willingness to speak her mind, Kael redefined film criticism of the 20th century and set the bar for the modern-day industry.

One of Kael’s most distinctive and controversial features in her reviews was her voice. Snarky and urgent, unrestrained and authoritative, Kael had the power to make or break opening weekend box office sales. She was adept at writing both conversationally and critically about films, similar to the way people really talk about them upon leaving the theater, writer Francis Davis explains in his book, Afterglow. Kael never forgot that her readers were real people and real movie lovers who wanted to know if a film was worth their time and money.

“Star Wars is like getting a box of Cracker Jack which is all prizes,” she wrote in 1977 of the film. “It’s enjoyable on its own terms, but it’s exhausting, too: like taking a pack of kids to the circus.” Kael was a collected voice of reason among the excited screams of fans calling Star Wars the film of the year.

Her linguistic mannerisms, quirks, and devices earned her credibility and a reputation among her readers. Kael’s frequent use of about nine favorite words—which included mild variations of “whorey,” “mythic,” and “trashy,” points out Renata Adler in her essay “House Critic”— made for easy comparisons between reviews. Readers moved fluidly from one piece to the next, toting Kael’s vivid vocabulary in tow. 

Yet Kael’s professional successes do not escape critique. Adler is keen to point out the critic’s flops, including Kael’s refusal to acknowledge her factually false representation of the outdoor sequence in the film Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Her affinity for particularly gory and violent films, as well as for movies with hot sex or bizarre alien scenes has also been a topic of disfavor.

Kael is not afraid of being wrong or of addressing issues that make readers uncomfortable, however. As writer Ken Tucker says in his essay, "A Gift for Effrontery," this sort of critical independence is increasingly rare, and is really what makes Pauline Kael sound like Pauline Kael.

New York Times Critical Defense: As Not Seen on TV

Our defense examines New York Times food critic Pete Wells' recent review of celebrity chef Guy Fieri's new Times Square restaurant, Guy's American Kitchen and Bar.  We hope to explore the scope of arts criticism and the question, Is food considered art?  In addition, we'd like to discuss the intersection of television celebrities and pop-dining.

Our presentation will address these major issues:

1. What is considered an art review? How does medium influence reviewer approach and reader expectations? What external factors impact reviews across media?

2. Is this review "successful?" How can we gauge success, particularly when it comes to commercial and culinary success? Is this review a justifiable pan? Is Wells' voice too critical or is this type of critique merited?

3. How does a piece full of interrogatives alter the reader’s experience? How does it alter the diner’s experience at the restaurant after reading the review?

4. How can we connect Pete Wells' review to Pauline Kael's reverence for the popular?  How can we relate this discussion of pop to highbrow and lowbrow culture? Is this an appropriate piece for The New York Times dining section?

Our stance: By infusing his piece with interrogatives, his review mimics the disjointed nature of the menu, atmosphere, and experience. While this is an nontraditional format, nevertheless this is a successful art review.

You can read the Pete Wells' piece here.

For additional reading, check out another review here.

Live Performance Review: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged) [revised]

On Saturday afternoon the Novi High School Theater Department attempted an unprecedented feat. Eight actors performed the complete works of William Shakespeare —that’s 37 plays— in less than 45 minutes as part of the Michigan Interscholastic Forensic Association’s One Act Traveling Plays series.

The result was an entertaining performance that was both creative and funny, yet also somewhat rushed and, well, high schoolish.

Based on an original script written and performed by the British theater troupe, The Reduced Shakespeare Company, The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged) [revised] infuses century-old plays with new life and present-day humor.

Novi’s eight actors rotated roles, costumes, and severed body parts with gusto and wit, all while wearing Chuck Taylors and making regular pop culture references. The ideal audience is one that is familiar with Shakespeare’s works, though anyone who can appreciate a cross-dressing Friar or a series of overdramatic deaths is in for a laugh.

Senior Sarah Campbell, who played Juliet and Ophelia (among other tragic heroines), and senior Hannah Patterson, who held a robust Scottish accent, both commanded the stage. The two young women energized scenes such as Romeo and Juliet and Macbeth with their clever antics and prompted their fellow actors to follow in suit.

Yet that energy fizzled when the actors began breaking the fourth wall and asking for audience participation. When an audience member’s reaction deviated from the supposed rehearsed responses, the actors were unprepared to improv.

Moments such as these spoke to the performers’ inexperience, as did some basic vocal projection problems and the frequent rushing of lines— though when performing the entire canon of the Bard in under an hour, a little rushing is expected.

The lights, costumes, and props were surprisingly well done for a traveling high school production. In the scene Titus Andronicus, red lights sprayed across the stage like blood as a throat was cut. The effect was simple but spot on.  The awful wigs and retractable combat swords, too, were modest yet effective and provided just enough context and comedy.      

Even the programs were creative. They took the form of stage notes, complete with intentional typos and an individualized message written by a member of the cast or crew.

So sure, Novi’s rendition of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged) [revised] was a bit amateur, but for 45 minutes and a high school budget, it was well done.