May 29, 2009

How Much Is That Nimbus In The Window?

The Cannes Film Festival was five days ago. The MTV Movie Awards are this weekend and The Tony Awards are next week. We are definitely in awards season. In fact, these are boom times for the halo business. Crowns are becoming as common as baseball caps and it's getting downright difficult to go unrecognized for one's achievements. How did this happen and why is each new awards show morecrass and commercial than the previous one?

 

We can start by blaming Alfred Nobel. Tired of blowing the world to pieces and hoping to make it a better place, he endowed the Nobel Prizes in 1901. Wisely, he did so through his will, so he wouldn't have to see the results. The Peace Prize, for instance, has gone to people like Henry Kissinger, Menachem Begin and, that big old softie, Yasser Arafat. As for the other award winners, their body count is even higher. The competition among scientists makes the Arab-Israeli conflict look like two kittens fighting over a catnip mouse. Instead of being shamed out of existence, the Nobels are, arguably, the best known and most highly regarded prizes in the world.

 

Not to be outdone by Europe, this country proved it was just as high-minded by creating an equally prestigious award in 1921. That's when Atlantic City hosted the first Miss America contest. Okay, not as high-minded, but they reward congeniality.

 

Meanwhile, history was being made on the West Coast. In 1928, a  small group of movie professionals held a quiet, little awards dinner at the Hollywood Roosevelt hotel. This affair would, in time, become the bloated monstrosity known as the Academy Awards. Not only has it given us such indelible moments as Mitzi Gaynor tap dancing to the theme from Georgy Girl, but it created the vogue for self-congratulation, which has since affected every industry. All three strands were woven together in 1947 when The American Theatre Wing bestowed the first Antoinette Perry ("Tony") awards. The Tony ceremony combines the earnest dullness (people who say thee-ah-tuh) of the Nobel Prize and the self-congratulation of the Oscars with women (and sometimes men) who are pretty enough to be Miss America. Ironically, its true achievement is commercial. That is, as a commercial for the legitimate theatre. ("Legitimate" applied to theatre is like "ethical" applied to pharmaceuticals – puzzling when it's not completely wrong.) It does so by presenting great songs from great musicals as done by the original cast. The Academy Awards, on the other hand, would probably have Enya do a New Age interpretation of "Rose's Turn."

 

The history of awards presentations reached a low point in 1991 when the ceremony for the Clio Advertising Awards devolved into an orgy of shameless statuette grabbing. I wasn't there for the melee itself, but I was present earlier. I was working as an advertising copywriter and, along with my partner, was nominated for a Clio. After a long delay, we were herded into the auditorium, where we heard a strange confession from the event's host. All records were lost. They don't know who won. All they have are slides of the winning ads. So, they will project the slides and whoever won will come up and claim their award. This man was clearly not a public speaker, which seemed odd. It turns out he was the caterer and was there in order to get paid. Our category was among the first and we didn't win. My partner, however, won for a different ad and returning from the stage, statuette in hand, he showed me that, unlike most advertising awards, it was not engraved. As we left, we saw some cagey newshounds who, pads out, were already getting the scoop. Not much later, a frustrated crowd rushed the stage and grabbed all the remaining awards. Looting encouraged by the lack of names on the statuettes. If you need convincing, just look up the Adweek magazine for that week. The cover will show the president of a large New York agency lunging after statuettes with both hands while his tongue, like Michael Jordan's, hangs out of his mouth. It being advertising, his career was not affected.

 

Network television, inspired by the challenge, showed that they could sink even lower than their commercial colleagues and created "American Idol." Although it seems like it's been on forever, it actually debuted in 2002. It began with there judges: the unfailingly genial music producer, Randy Jackson (think Al Roker dressed as a pimp) the grinning gamine, Paula Abdul, whose claim to fame is choreographing cheerleaders and the supercilious Simon Cowell,  playing the kind of movie villain who pinches snuff and runs over peasants in his carriage. Ultimately, however, America's Idol is chosen by the viewing public. It costs money to vote, you can vote more than once, the results are confusing, inaccurate and not confidential. What's more, Florida gets involved. Unlike certain elections, however, it can result in nothing worse than bad music. Eight seasons later, this show has jumped so many sharks, it might as well be The Sydney Lifeboat Races. They've added a blandly pretty songwriter, Kara DioGuardi, as a judge, but all she brings is her own lust for becoming a celebrity.  Paula is retreating into either drug abuse or premature senescence and Simon Cowell continues an R-rated love affair with himself. If his shirts get any tighter, his head is going to shoot off like a roman candle. Compared with this crew, Randy is Thurgood Marshall, but one who begins each opinion with, "Yo, dog!" Contestants? Who cares about contestants?

 

Are there any valid, respectable awards? Yes. Since 1955, the Village Voice newspaper has been giving Obie Awards for achievement in off-broadway theatre. It's not a competition and there are no categories. If someone deserves an award that year, they get it. There's no limit to the number of awards that can be given. There's no commercial value and no publicity except in the Voice itself. The only people at the ceremony are the winners, their families and friends. Pretty much, the platonic ideal of an award. Yet, it all seems very unsatisfying. I miss the melodrama. Unfair, too. I can't escape the feeling that unless a grotesque amount of fame and fortune is attached, the winners are being cheated.

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