The Oscars are back and as useless as ever, expanding the best picture category to 10 pictures even though all anybody cares about are the front-runners. There are only three things that can happen. “The Hurt Locker” wins, “Avatar” wins or neither win. Now you, a normal person living outside of the realm of Hollywood, might wonder why these things should matter to you. Lobos, the fate of the cinematic world rests in the grandiose production of haphazardly deciding which films are better than others. Each nomination maps out a different course for the film world and it’s only fair that you should know what might happen next.
Let’s first consider if “Avatar,” recent winner at the Golden Globes, will swoop in and win the best picture nomination at the Oscars. James Cameron promenades up to the stand, gives an awkward acceptance speech mentioning the “ultimate intimacy” and how pretty Sam Worthington looks in a wheelchair. He then throws Kathryn Bigelow the finger and dances off the stage.
The success of Avatar leads more people to watch the film over and over again. This results in a disease known as “Avatar Blues.” This is a real disease and has been documented on CNN and other media outlets. Avatar Blues is a serious medical condition, diagnosed by fanboys, in which the patient becomes depressed because he or she cannot live in the fantasy world of Pandora, as depicted in the film. The tranquil greens and blues of the planet mixed with vicious animals and telepathic mind links drive people to want to inhabit the fictitious planet. The only cure for this disease is watching Avatar around the clock. Don’t take my word for it, just ask “Okoi” who had this to say on the film’s forum boards after watching it just once: “After I watched Avatar the first time, I truly felt depressed as I ‘wake’ up in this world again. So after a few days, I went to the cinema and watched it again for the second time to relieve the depression and hopeless feeling.”
Just imagine if this movie were to be even more exposed to the world. Long-term depression would strike the people of Earth. I suppose everyone would be too busy sitting in their homes, their blankets clutched around them like the plastic portals in Avatar watching the film, while muttering the character’s lines five seconds before they are said. Everyone would probably grow their hair out in attempts of finding spindly tentacles in their braids, but that’s beside the point. If “Avatar” won the Best Picture nomination no one would ever want to watch another film again and the production of movies would stop. Cinema as we know it would come to an end.
Yet, let’s take a step back and consider the ramifications if the indie film and darling of the SAG awards, “The Hurt Locker,” were to step in and win best picture. The acceptance speech is rather the same. Bigelow is sure to throw the finger at her former husband as she walks off the stage, with the Golden Globe clutched in her other hand.
Any time the folks behind indie films, and not just The “Hurt Locker,” win some form of recognition from a mainstream source their heads begin to swell unbearably. Soon they have to carry their swollen heads in wheelbarrows so they don’t drag along the ground. Eventually the heads will burst as DVD and rental revenues for “The Hurt Locker” shoot up, the film finally receiving the popular reception that its makers feel it deserved.
In turn, the world’s supply of art films will shrivel up and all the populace will be left with are big-budget action films in the vein of “Avatar.” Michael Bay, seeing his chance to finally win an Oscar, will make a “Bad Boys 3” featuring some combination of Will Smith, Martin Lawrence, and a hot girl like Megan Fox or Heidi Montag. When this film premieres, the sheer excess of noise, special effects and cleavage will cause everybody’s head to blow up.
Yet supposedly there are a couple other options for the best picture/end-of-the-world scenario. Here’s a quick rundown of what I see:
“The Blind Side” wins, the Oscar’s attendees all storm out of the venue and nobody ever watches the Oscars again out of disgust.
“District 9” wins, sci-fi flicks become the norm, pushing real science to progress faster until we reach a stage where movies are projected in our skulls rather than on screen, and cinema ends.
“An Education” wins, people ask themselves whether that’s actually a movie, then all quickly agree they have seen it so as to not appear out of the loop, when in reality no one has. Thusly, no one ever watches “An Education,” which is probably a good thing, anyway.
“Precious” wins, and Monique eats the Oscar.
“A Serious Man” wins, and the filmmakers’ collective resentment toward the Cohen brothers boils over onto the world, cooking us alive.
“Up” wins, children of the world rejoice and adults secretly enjoy the silent triumph of the inner child in entertainment.
“Up in the Air” wins, and plane ticket sales blow up.
“Inglourious Basterds” wins, and everyone’s okay with this.
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Of course there is another and more realistic option. The awards show goes as expected — some people wear ugly dresses and tuxes, and others look dazzling. A bunch of awards are given out, mild outrage occurs at the best picture no matter what it might be and the world keeps turning — it keeps turning until the media flips out over the Oscars again next year. However the night goes, I am sure I will stop watching halfway through the announcing of the 10 Best Picture nominees. Who has the time?
