And the Oscar Goes To...

Best Picture of the Year: Million Dollar Baby
Best Director: Clint Eastwood for Million Dollar Baby
Best Actor: Jamie Foxx as the late Ray Charles in Ray
Best Actress: Hilary Swank as the female Rocky who ultimately kills herself in Million Dollar Baby
Best Supporting Actor: Morgan Freeman as Hilary's (see above) "counselor" in Million Dollar Baby
Best Supporting Actress: Cate Blanchett as Howard Hughes' squeeze in The Aviator

And so it goes, in one of the most disturbing Academy Award years in the history of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. While I am very much pleased that the Best Actor Award went to Jamie Foxx for his portrayal of Ray Charles, the fact remains that the movie that almost swept the major Oscars (Best Picture, Best Actor/Actress/Supporting Actor/Actress, and Best Director), the movie that for this year will stand in comparison to movies like Lawrence of Arabia, Ben-Hur, and The Bridge on the River Kwai, is basically about a woman who suffers a paralyzing injury and demands--and gets--assistance in killing herself.

Does anyone reading this now want to give me any confidence figures on whether Attorney George Felos will cite these awards in the court of public opinion, if not in a court of law, as evidence that euthanasia is a valid concept which society ought to promote? I already know what Joni Eareckson Tada thinks of that movie, and I can readily guess what she'll think of AMPAS falling all over themselves to reward it.

I have long felt that the Academy Awards ceased to be worth having a long time ago--probably in 1971. Since then, few movies that have won the Academy's trademark statuette of a crusader knight holding his broadsword (it may or may not have been named after a real person named "Oscar" by that worthy's niece, the librarian and then executive director of the Academy) have been worthy of the distinction. Patton was the last, and not until Amadeus would any more be made that were not frankly juvenile in their story lines, production values, and everything else.

Furthermore, before 1970, a movie that won one of the major awards (see above) would win most of them, if not all--a phenomenon I call a "major Oscar sweep." Indeed, you might have thought that the Best Picture Award was an overall honor for the director and cast as a group. (It's not--the Best Picture Award honor's the film's producer, the one who made all the hiring, firing, and spending decisions in the making of the film.) Such "sweeps" occurred for a reason, that reason being that the "studio system" had the effect of nurturing not just talented individuals but talented communities, too--"think tanks" for filmmaking if you will. Today, such sweeps are rare. Even a film like The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King will be lucky to capture four out of six majors. And if the Academy were really honest in tallying winners, they would score a film twice for every major Oscar and once for every minor Oscar (any Oscar other than Best Picture/(Supporting) Actor/Actress/Director). By that score, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King would get an adjusted win tally of 13 (because in addition to nine minor Oscars it won as Best Picture, with Peter Jackson winning as Best Director), while Ben-Hur would garner a tally of 15 (Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Supporting Actor, and seven minors). A separate tally of the majors might also be worth issuing.

All of which makes last night's results an all the more devastating critique and indictment of our society. The Academy might as well have signed Terri Schindler-Schiavo's death warrant, and I hope they're satisfied.

And one more thing: if the Crusaders as a group still had their own advocacy organization, I would encourage them to sue the Academy to take back their trademark. A movie celebrating suicide is not worthy of an honor that even appears to come from the Crusaders. The Academy should change their Award of Merit from the Oscar to the Jack--perhaps a replica of Jack Kevorkian's rusty van, or maybe a skulking Victorian-era "gentleman" carrying a surgical kit. And may I also suggest the Hugh (Hefner), the Alfred (Kinsey), the Marquis (de Sade), the Karl (Marx), the Franklin (Delano Roosevelt), the Dan (Rather), the Teddy (Kennedy, not the Bear), or--how could I miss this!--the Howard (Dean) or maybe the Bill (Clinton).