Tickets, Popcorn, Nationalism: The American Movie Dilemma
by Hannah Wong
In an interview with Vulture, Bong Joon-ho made a curious comment.
Columnist E. Alex Jung had asked the South Korean director about his opinion on the lack of Academy Award nominations for Korean films in the past.
“It’s a little strange, but it’s not a big deal,” Joon-ho replied nonchalantly. “The Oscars are not an international film festival. They’re very local.”
Local. The Academy Awards are local.
To the American moviegoer or cable-television-watcher, this comment may come as a shock, or even an insult. The Academy Awards are a nearly century-old celebration of filmmaking in all its forms and facets. They are a time for those above-the-line, those below-the-line, and those watching from the audience to come together in admiration and appreciation for the great cinematic creations of the year.
Each Academy Awards ceremony is staffed by 1,000 people working behind the scenes. Those planning the event start nearly a year in advance, laying out the security needs, food preparation, and other logistical issues associated with such a big occasion. In the end, the annual Oscars budget hovers around 40 million dollars in total, with $25,000 being spent on the red carpet alone.
The results are astounding. Viewers — a record-breaking 42 million of them for the 2013 Oscars — tune in to see Hollywood glamor in its fullest form. Celebrities from all arenas of the entertainment industry arrive decked in gowns, jewels, and perfectly pressed tuxedos, ready to attend the most elite event of the year. From the pre-show interviews, to the skits and bits delivered by an A-list host, to the afterparties documented by frantic paparazzi, the Academy Awards are a spectacle to behold.
But for all their glitz and glory, these awards are, in reality, very local. Aside from the single Foreign Language/International Film category, this behemoth of a ceremony is entirely dedicated to creations from within the United States. Despite being advertised and interpreted as a celebration of film, the Oscars are a celebration of American film.
This is a dangerous conflation in a country where audiences already avoid reading subtitles like they’re the plague. The truth of the matter is that American audiences are nationalistic, and they lack the perspective to seek out and enjoy movies that weren’t created in their own country. They have fallen into the comfortable trap of only watching films in their native language, with actors whom they love and admire, made by directors that have been household names for years. Aside from a few British sweethearts who have made their way into the mix — think Eddie Redmayne, Benedict Cumberbatch, Keira Knightley and the like — Americans’ preferences in film are decidedly American.
Granted, the blame for this could lie with the U.S. entertainment economy, which is valued at around $504 billion and accounts for 3–4% of the country’s goods and services. America regularly has a trade surplus in film and television. Because American content is in such high demand, and because so much American content is being produced, it does make sense that viewers’ tastes lean heavily on movies and shows from the U.S. of A.
But the blame also lies with the romanticization, or even worship, of Hollywood and the culture surrounding it. The American entertainment industry is enchanting down to a meta level, with films like La La Land and Once Upon a Time…In Hollywood being rewarded for recounting stories about the very industry giving the awards. Tinseltown has been immortalized as the land where the impossible becomes possible for those with enough talent, where great creators rise to fame and leave legacies in their wake. Mentions of Los Angeles conjure up the red lipstick, patent-leather heels, and shimmery magic of a world where art and entertainment are the raisons d’être, where the gold standard is a star on the Walk of Fame.
Treating Hollywood as the gold standard, however, has major implications. It minimizes the accomplishments of filmmakers from every other country on the globe. It discourages American viewers from venturing outside their library of non-subtitled movies. It perpetuates the notion that foreign films are just the odd stepchildren of more widely appealing, critically acclaimed, domestic films. It contributes to the toxic and ongoing process of cultural “othering”: our music versus their music, our food versus their food, our movies versus their movies. So naturally, when award season rolls around every January, Americans are satisfied with lightly applauding the Romas and Cold Wars of the world before moving on to what they consider bigger and better things (i.e. Leo DiCaprio being crowned Best Actor).
All this to say: in less than a month, tens of millions of eager audience members will tune into the 92nd Academy Awards. They will ooh- and ahh- over the Valentino tuxes and Marchesa gowns. They will look upon the faces of their favorite celebrities with awe and admiration. They will revel, for one night, in a perfect encapsulation of Hollywood itself, of the grandeur and promises of life on and around the big screen.
That is all well and good; everyone deserves a bit of fun. But those audience members should bear in mind that the Academy Awards are not the awards show. They are an awards show, by Americans, for Americans, that highlights only a fraction of the content that the world has to offer.
