Every year when the Academy Awards roll around, I find myself embarrassed to admit that I do watch parts of the show.
I view the best of film as art and appreciate the work of the actors, directors, film editors, screen writers and others who bring good stories to the screen. This year I was interested in the success of “No Country for Old Men,” and was happy to see that the work of one of the country’s best authors made a successful transition into another medium.
I feel conflicted even watching parts of the show, especially when others find out that I actually had the TV on while all the glitz and glamour polluted–as some say–the airwaves all evening long. Americans, it appears, love their royalty and actors, actresses and those who surround them are the kings and queens we love to hate and hate to love.
Photographs of the best dressed and the worst dressed and the red carpet arrivals from the OSCARS have been springing up all over the Internet like weeds. I see the names of the winners on my Yahoo page among the “most popular searches.” We, who begrudge the neighbor with the lottery winnings or the windfall inheritance as “the lucky stiff who doesn’t really deserve all that money” don’t mind adoring the “beautiful people” who make more money in one year than our entire neighborhood earns in a lifetime–and enjoying flaunting it.
So many paradoxes here. Perhaps making art makes folks larger than life. The glitz bothers me, though.