The Oscars Go Indie

Erin Neil
Newsletter editor

The ninety-seventh Academy Awards began with an homage to Los Angeles, and the industry that helped build it, in the wake of the city’s devastating wildfires. It was, as Vinson Cunningham wrote on The New Yorker’s live blog, “a sweeping, dramatic, idealistic opening very much worthy of the company town that is still beating back such a big crisis.”

Michael Schulman was there, attending his sixth Oscars, bearing witness to the end of “a road filled with scandal and chaos.” Celebrities were dolled up in kilts and kimonos and kaffiyehs; the smell of marijuana wafted up to the mezzanine; he ran into the actress Rita Wilson, as she was drinking a cocktail called the Clear Winner. And, in exciting news for the magazine, The New Yorker won for Best Live Action Short for the film “I’m Not a Robot.”

For a show at which winners sometimes use their speeches to soapbox, last night’s ceremony was largely absent of politics. Daryl Hannah, presenting for Best Film Editing, voiced her support for Ukraine, but the most poignant political moment came when “No Other Land,” from a team of Israeli and Palestinian filmmakers, won for Best Documentary Feature. “Here, we have something vanishingly rare,” Alexandra Schwartz wrote, “Israelis and Palestinians sharing a stage, speaking with a single voice to say, ‘Enough.’ ” Otherwise, earnestness was overshadowed by silliness, signalled from the moment the first-time host, Conan O’Brien, made his entrance by climbing out of Demi Moore’s back, à la “The Substance.”

O’Brien promised—repeatedly—in his opening number that he would not waste time, but the broadcast still proceeded for a hefty three hours and forty-five minutes, rendering his jazzy, dancey song “a complete waste of time,” Richard Brody argues in his assessment of what he felt was a “stiflingly contrived ceremony.” In all that time, O’Brien made only a passing jab about Karla Sofía Gascón, once a front-runner for Best Actress for her role in “Emilia Pérez,” whose racist tweets may have spoiled her chances of winning. That award went, instead, to Mikey Madison, of “Anora.” It was the big upset of the night, as many—including our critics—assumed that Demi Moore would clinch it. “Life didn’t follow art: youth was served,” Brody observes.

“The Brutalist” picked up three wins, but it was Sean Baker’s “Anora” that dominated, winning in five out of the six categories for which it was nominated, including Best Picture. These “two blazingly intelligent, vividly personal movies,” Justin Chang writes in his rundown of the night, are united by “a masterful dedication to the art of the hustle.” And the success of both opens “the door a bit wider to filmmakers of comparably bold ambition on thin budgets,” Brody writes. In their acceptance speech, the producers of “Anora” highlighted the film’s modest six-million-dollar budget, and stressed the importance of independent cinema. As Naomi Fry said, summing up the night: “Keep it indie, and don’t be a racist. Those are the takeaways.”

Thank you for supporting The New Yorker with your subscription.

• The U.S. is sending about three thousand additional troops to the southern border: Isaac Chotiner spoke with David Leonhardt, soon to be an editorial director of the Times’ Opinion section, about how the Democrats have lost their way on immigration. Read the interview »
• Tariffs on Mexican and Canadian goods go into effect tomorrow: Read John Cassidy on how the President’s promised trade war could spark a recession »

Cartoon by Jon Adams

“I know the Oscars are rigged because I didn’t receive one for my feigned outrage.”

P.S. Ever wonder what the Democrats are doing with their down time? Barry Blitt imagines how Chuck Schumer, Nancy Pelosi, and their colleagues might practice some self-care: Up a tree? In a pond?

Hannah Jocelyn contributed to today’s edition.