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![]() FEEDING FRENZY Is overexposure killing the Oscars?
In a decade of less than memorable telecasts--including a 1987 show that
featured the horrifying trio of hosts Paul Hogan, Chevy Chase and Goldie
Hawn, the 1989 Academy Awards telecast still managed to hit an
unthinkable new low. And even if you didn't see it firsthand, chances
are you know something about it--the details are so awful that they own
a special place in pop-culture history.
On a sunny Monday in March 1989, a lovely crane shot of all the celebs
arriving at the Shrine Auditorium cuts to... Snow White (an incredibly
unfortunate actress named Eileen Bowman). Squeaking out ghastly versions
of "I Only Have Eyes for You" and forcing appalled stars like Michelle
Pfeiffer to hold her hand, Snow danced her way into infamy with her
blind date--Rob Lowe! Lowe (still sporting "St. Elmo's Fire" hair)
and Snow pounded out a duet of Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Proud
Mary" (with new lyrics like "Rolling, rolling, keep the cameras
rolling") in an agonizingly long production disaster that ended with
the Rockettes singing "Hooray for Hollywood," after which Rob and Co.
ran away to hide from the press.
The fallout from the 61st Academy Awards would linger until the next
year. Days after the show Disney sued the Academy for the unauthorized
and unflattering use of Snow White. The show's producer, Allan Carr
(best known as the producer of "Grease") saw his career crash and burn
as Academy members everywhere lambasted the show. Seventeen bigwigs,
including Oscar winners Billy Wilder, Paul Newman, Gregory Peck and
Julie Andrews, wrote a letter to the Academy labeling the show "an
embarrassment to both the Academy and the entire motion picture
industry." At the 1990 telecast, the first to be hosted by Billy
Crystal and produced by perennial favorite Gil Cates, Crystal's opening
line set the tone for a "make fun of last year's awards night."
Gliding on stage to "It Had to Be You," Crystal acknowledged his
applause with: "Is that for me or are you just glad I'm not Snow
White?"
The fact that the Oscars rebounded stronger than ever turned out to be a
testament to Cates and Crystal, who each did seven of the nineties
shows. The profile of the Awards' telecast reached new highs, gaining
wide recognition as the Second Biggest Show on Earth, after the Super
Bowl, with an estimated worldwide audience of one billion.
Unfortunately, over time it seems the Oscars have become their own worst
enemy. As the nineties wore on and shows improved, better Academy Awards
shows set off a feeding frenzy for coverage, as the appetite, or at
least the perceived appetite, for Oscar info increased ten-fold. Sure,
ratings were pretty good--the program has shown steady increases since
its first TV appearance in 1953--but it's difficult to compare ratings
because the number of TV-owning households has skyrocketed; during the
nineties the show averaged around 47 million viewers in the United
States.
Nearing the 2002 telecast, it seems the Oscars, once the Hollywood event
of the year, aren't quite as interesting as they used to be. For those
of us who've been hardcore Oscar handicappers for a decade or longer,
the shift from main event to just another speech-fest has followed an
intriguing track. Ten years ago, entertainment reporting was barely an
established field--there was that behemoth of TV schmaltz,
"Entertainment Tonight," which pioneered daily, syndicated
entertainment news in 1981, and the very new "Entertainment Weekly,"
which launched its weekly entertainment-only mag in 1990. The Internet
hadn't exploded yet and if you were handicapping nominees, you had to
dig through various daily newspapers, hoping someone somewhere published
a list of all the films from the year, or you'd be sunk just trying to
remember what was released.
Fast forward to the middle of the decade and it was a whole new game.
The Internet gave rise to an online community where entertainment news
was almost too easy to find. On television, E! The Entertainment Channel
(and its Website, www.eonline.com) and "Access Hollywood" both
launched into more competitive times as regular news, once an
entertainment-free zone, began peppering its programming with tidbits
once the purview of "ET," pushing that show and its new counterparts
to offer a little something extra. In that spirit, in 1997 E! plugged
what it saw as a hole. Oscar telecasts, it seemed, had grown so long
that there was little time to see what we really wanted to see--the
clothes! Recruiting the love-her-or-hate-her Joan Rivers and her
talentless daughter, E! launched its own multi-hour pre-awards
extravaganza--which became so popular that three years later the Oscars
would launch a stodgier version (remember that half-hour of wackiness
hosted by Geena Davis?). Magazines like InStyle also hopped on the
fashion-focus bandwagon, while EW secured its place with exhaustive
coverage. Exhaustive as in, guides not only to nominees but also to
possible nominees; guides not only to what the stars wear, but what they
might wear; guides not only to the stars' stylists... you get the idea.
Thanks to all this coverage, there's very little we don't know about
the Oscars before the show airs--except, of course, who will win and
what they'll say. But the newfound popularity of entertainment coverage
has nearly taken care of that as well. With the help of cable, the whole
host of awards leading up to the Oscars--from the Golden Globes to the
Screen Actors Guild--hit our living rooms in full, living color.
Consider the 1999 Oscars, which featured a crying Gwyneth Paltrow
thanking everyone under the sun for her Best Actress award for
"Shakespeare in Love." If you'd seen the Globes or the SAG awards,
you'd already seen this twice; the insincerity of the third-time round,
coupled with a show that ran agonizingly slowly--at the end of the night
it was four hours and eight (or nine, depending on who you believe)
minutes--had me reaching for the remote. By the time the show airs,
unless there's an interesting upset, well, the Oscars just aren't as
vibrant as they once were.
The theory that saturation is killing the Oscars is supported, in part,
by the ratings. As the amount of coverage has hit an all-time high the
ratings have dipped. Last year's Steve Martin-hosted show (produced by
Gil Cates' son, Gil Cates Jr.) saw the lowest U.S. ratings since 1986
(when snoozerific "Out of Africa" won and the show featured hosts Jane
Fonda, Alan Alda and Robin Williams). And while low Oscar ratings still
mean about 43 million people watched the show (a viewership most TV
programs would kill for), these numbers were still down 7 percent from
the 2000 show. It was also less than the 45.3 million people who watched
the first episode of "Survivor: Australia" following the January 2001
Super Bowl.
Considering that the Oscars posted their highest ratings ever, 55
million-plus, just three years before (during the 1998 show where
"Titanic" ran off with everything), this media overkill seems to
explain the drop. And while some might argue that last year's big
winner, "Gladiator," was no "Titanic" popularity-wise, it still had
more overall oomph than the 1998 Best Picture, "Shakespeare in Love."
Not only was the 1999 telecast the longest ever, but it featured the
painful second outing of Whoopi Goldberg--and it still managed to score
45.6 million viewers. That number would increase for the 2000 show;
featuring the return of Billy Crystal and a slew of awards for
"American Beauty," that telecast boasted a respectable 46.3 million
viewers.
Of course, it's difficult to tell the folks over at E! that saturation
coverage is killing the Oscars. On last year's awards day E! claimed
the highest viewership in its history, with a 10 percent increase in
ratings for the Joan Rivers pre-show. And as long as this coverage
bonanza sells there'll be no reason to change. On the other hand,
without a "Titanic"-sized blockbuster, and if ratings keep heading
south, the Academy may well decide its time to make some drastic program
changes, something that seems to occur each decade: The fifties and
sixties belonged to Bob Hope, while the seventies abandoned the single
host for as few as three and as many as twenty separate stars. The
eighties dropped that format (mostly) for the single man show hosted by
Johnny Carson. Carson retired late in the decade, and the one telecast
with no host at all, the year of that Snow White debacle, ushered in
Billy Crystal and the nineties. Nothing Mickey Mouse about that.
Also by Elaine Richardson POLL POSITION
AD BUSTERS
BAD NEWS
HOT AIR
HAIL TO THE CHIEF
DOMESTIC BLITZ
SLAV TO ART
PUT UP OR SHUT UP
SEEING IS BELIEVING
FIGHT THE POWER
TALLYING TURNSTILES
COSELL & CO.
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