A Thoroughly Intersectional Oscars

The Oscars couldn’t stray far from politically tense themes; in fact, the ceremony strained to fit in almost all of them.

The first overt reference to actual policy came early. “Dreams are the foundation of Hollywood and dreams are the foundation of America,” said actress Lupita Nyong’o, announcing best production design (which went to The Shape of Water) alongside actor Kumail Nanjiani. “For all the Dreamers out there,” they said. “We stand by you.”

But the show’s first feminist thrill—and followers of the #MeToo movement and #TimesUp campaign expected many—was in fact a feint. Best Supporting Actress winner Allison Janney’s acceptance speech started, “I did it all by myself”—and some of us watching at home wondered for a moment whether she’d leave it there in a show of self-reliance. Of course, she didn’t.

(And around 9:30 pm, when Kobe Bryant won for Best Short Film, few could forget—given the context of a Hollywood-born feminist reckoning—that he was accused of sexual assault 15 years ago.)

Later on, Ashley Judd, Salma Hayek, and Annabella Sciorra presented a very 2018 documentary-montage mash-up. It recapped “what this year has shown us,” with Judd saying: “The changes we are witnessing are being driven by the powerful sound of new voices, of different voices, of our voices, joining together in a mighty chorus that is finally saying time’s up.” It included somber reflections on Hollywood sexism, race representation, and a clip from The Shape of Water’s love scene. “Everyone is getting a voice to express something that’s been happening forever,” said Mira Sorvino. “Not only in Hollywood, but in every walk of life.”

Shortly thereafter, when Sandra Bullock presented the award for Best Cinematography, she announced four men and “one trailblazing woman.” As the odds would have it, the woman did not win. Still, the Best Director announcer made the same move, announcing as the nominees “four men, and Greta Gerwig.” And when Guillermo Del Toro won, his acceptance speech turned our attention back to another timely topic. “I am an immigrant,” he said, and named several other immigrants present. “The best thing our industry does is to help erase the lines in the sand when the world tries to make them deeper.” When Del Toro later accepted Best Picture for The Shape of Water, he spoke about storytelling and inspiration.

All told—if we’re counting—the only “first” in any category was Jordan Peele, the first black screenwriter to win best original screenplay. His horror-comedy Get Out, nominated in all four of the major categories, was arguably the most incisive and challenging of the lot. And, after Dunkirk, it was the highest-grossing film up for best picture.

So many hot-button issues were packed into this years Oscars—not least of them the fact that no one goes to the movies anymore—that, throughout the thoroughly intersectional ceremony, none stood out as the single most dire social problem movies and their makers can take on or contribute to.

That is, until fiercely unconventional Best Actress winner Frances McDormand—who played the revenge-bent mother of a murdered rape victim in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri—cut through the intersectional tangle. She accepted the award, her second, and then asked every other female nominee to stand. “Look around ladies and gentlemen, because we all have stories to tell and projects we need financed. Don’t talk to us about it at the parties tonight. Invite us into your office in a couple days,” she said. “We all have stories to tell and projects we need to finance. I have two words to leave with you tonight: inclusion rider.”

Even so, these last two words—which sent Oscars viewers Googling—refer to an ultimately intersectional idea: An inclusion rider written into a powerful performer’s contract will require equal representation on set of various races, genders, economic strata, and so on. In the end, it was a film depicting rather extreme inter-species intersectionality that took the highest prize, Best Picture. The Shape of Water, if you haven’t seen it, is an “adult fairy tale,” a love story between a human woman and a merman.

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