Academy Award Analyses: How They Affect Cinephilia
Written by Andreas Babiolakis
Phew! What a relief. Another year, another Oscars death race. We’ve covered every single nominee of the 95th Academy Awards, from the excellent to the terrible. I’ve talked with many cinephiles in my life, because we are like magnets to one another, and I’ve been approached with a simple question time and time again: why? Why even care about the Academy Awards all that much? Do they actually matter in the grand scheme of things? In the annals of film history? In a space that is so dependent on subjective connections? Look: it may seem like I put a lot of stock in the Academy Awards, but I am the first to admit that they are not perfect, a strong representation of what great films are out there, or the be-all-end-all of accolades. I personally have a connection to them despite their (many) faults, just because I have spent so many years taking part in catching as many nominees as possible (and making predictions as well).
There’s something else that has made me look forward to getting so invested in the Academy Awards every year: how it strengthens my own personal tastes and insights relating to cinema. When I first started paying attention to every nominee — and I do mean every nominee (shorts, tech and all) — it changed how I was viewing films. I was in my late teens and tried to see why the other categories outside of the big ones mattered. Does anyone actually notice how sound is mixed in a film? Who pays attention to editing? Well, I suddenly was transfixed by all of the different components that piece films together, and I’d argue that they’re even more important than some of the more popular categories (most certainly Best Original Song: I love music and a well written tune, but we know this category is still here just for wider viewership and to punish Diane Warren for God knows what reason).
Instantly, I was picking my favourites for each category. I wasn’t just accepting what the Oscars told me was the film with the best production and set designs of the year: I was forming my own opinion despite my infancy to these categories (and, thus, their respective industries). I did additional reading for each subject to learn more about why these films were getting nominated (or so the Academy members would lead you to believe), what films got snubbed, and so forth. It got to a certain point where I was no longer just going with whatever nominees were presented to me each year: I was trying to decide my own through my findings. Say what you want about the politics and schmoozing that are necessary to win Oscars (believe me, I know: I follow the awards season races and try to predict winners every year), but getting invested in every category strengthened my awareness of how films are made. It was like film school at home; mind you, I did put in a lot of the legwork in order to appreciate films in new ways I was missing before.
Those were the days of old. I’ve long since focused on as many different elements in a film as possible, especially when I plan on reviewing said film. What happens now — especially since I devote countless hours to predictions, rankings, and then some — is that I begin to reevaluate my own findings. For instance: I gave Babylon a 2 out of 5 when I reviewed it late last year. I found it obnoxious, confused, unfulfilling, and actually quite irritating (especially for its bloated runtime). Once going through the film again and focusing on its strengths (it was nominated for its music and production-related elements), I began appreciating other aspects a little more; that one sequence where Nellie LaRoy has to perform the same scene dozens of times because of sound recording failures hits a little differently now; maybe there was a unified message (one cannot ignore the hideousness behind glitz and glamour) that I missed trying to focus on all of the various examples; I cannot ignore how well made the film is on a technical level despite my reservations with its narrative and endgame. I won’t pretend that Babylon is a perfect masterpiece I misunderstood, but I am forced to really look at a film I ripped apart and had to answer to my lambasting. Sometimes I stand by what I initially proclaimed. Occasionally, as is the case with Babylon, I accept that a second viewing is what was most necessary. I still have much to learn, but so does anyone: there is no perfect level of critical expertise, especially when the art itself is purely based on opinions.
This also speaks to the magic of films: how we respond to them differently the more we see certain films. I can find Bardo overlong and yet I have spent just over twenty hours of my life revisiting The Revenant again and again (it’s also [almost] a three hour affair). However, I know I love The Revenant and consider it to be Alejandro G. Iñárittu’s magnum opus. Who wants to watch films they don’t like again (or, God forbid, the mediocre that were fine the first time but feel like the art of pulling teeth upon a second glance)? Them’s the breaks with doing this sort of analysis. Sometimes, I learn to appreciate films I may have been too hard on. Other times, I will feel even more sour towards a film (I’m pointing my fingers directly at Empire of Light and Blonde, especially the latter which I now feel comfortable declaring a complete misfire). It didn’t happen this year, but I have actually calmed down on films I have adored in the past (maybe I went a little crazy with such a high rating once or twice), so the opposite is true as well.
In turn, I find this strengthens me as a critic and a cinephile. Much to my dismay, it also proves the fickleness of the industry; how often can we get our feeling on a film right on the first try? In the age of the internet and algorithms, us critics must dash to get our versions of the truth out as quickly as possible; as soon as that embargo bar lifts, we’re off racing to the finish line. Sometimes we get blessed with review copies of films that we can view well ahead of time: these extra days to sit on a film and a partially-constructed review are a blessing. For the most part, it’s all about trying to get out there as quickly as possible before moving on to the next film. Ignoring typos and grammatical errors (I do try to account for these but can only do so much), it’s entirely possible to get even our own thoughts wrong, not because we’re incapable of conveying them but because we are pressured into forming a complete deduction of a film in no time.
This is where my extra appreciation for awards season analyses comes into play. We’re now into the third month of 2023, and I’m still dwelling on the films of last year. This is my final hurrah and good-riddance to the films that deserve either or before approaching 2023 with a clean slate and a fresh mind. I can see where I was spot on (in my opinion, of course) and what films I really missed the mark on. It challenges me as a journalist and as a lover of cinema. I guess the final point is the acceptance that maybe it is dorky to be so invested in the awards season, particularly when I am aware of where these ceremonies fall flat (that’s a topic for another day). However, I will use any opportunity to discuss, evaluate, and cherish cinema (yes, even the terrible films remind me of what I love about the medium; you can’t know what you like without discovering what you can’t stand). The Academy Awards and the Oscars Death Race give me an opportunity to have a lengthy discussion about film for months at a time whilst figuring out my own tastes and written work (it’s as if I begin to grade myself). I use each year not just to participate but to try and figure out where to go next as a cinephile (what films are begging for me to finally get around to them? What industries and waves am I out of the loop on?) and as a writer (how can I do this better next year)? Even if you’re not into reviewing, I think pushing yourself to analyze films on so many levels will benefit your relationship with the big screen; if you are a cinephile, I implore you to learn that you can fall in love with the medium countless times in a myriad of ways.
Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Toronto Metropolitan University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.