13 MARCH 1993, Page 40

Not only done but seen to be done

Mark Amory

THE OSCARS by Anthony Holden Little, Brown, f20, pp. 766

The Oscars allow Hollywood to present itself to the world, well to over a billion people, and as there are millions of dollars and the reputations of some of the largest egos of our time at stake, and as Holly- wood is as it is, the resulting show is an orgy of sentimentality on display and cyni- cism scarcely hidden. What keeps so many watching, and what this book promises with its subtitle, The Secret History of Holly- wood's Academy Awards, is a glimpse of what the stars are really like, the emotions behind the public relations masque; and sometimes they do indeed peep out.

There are almost 300 pages of lists of winners and losers here and before that there is really something very similar, skil- fully contrived to look like a narrative. Holden sensibly restricts himself to Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Picture, notices Best Director and merely nods towards music and supporting players, but, like Oscar-winning speech-makers, he still has a lot of names to get through. World history goes on in the margin: the Depression, the war, the black list (Gary Cooper the only big star even to attempt to behave coura- geously), make their impact, but are noth- ing compared to the coming of television. It is explained who votes and how the academy began as an employer's union and got taken over by the success of the awards, but it is complicated and changes and he knows that we do not much care. Even as a history of Hollywood, the story is curiously weighted. Among those who have not won are Chaplin, Hitchcock, Astaire, Garbo, Grant. At the moment the hugely success- ful films and the hugely paid stars in them, the Die Hards, the Schwarzeneggers, do not get a look in. So what does go to make an Oscar-winning performance?

There are naturally a lot of answers and qualifications, but basically what is required is conspicuous acting. There are again many ways to point out what a lot of acting you are doing. It is good to be ill, drunk, or dumb (Jane Wyman in Johnny Belinda and John Mills in Ryan's Daughter but not Marlee Matlin in Children of a Lesser God, she really was dumb and bene- fiting from the sympathy vote). Grotesque make-up attracts attention (John Mills again) and a beautiful woman playing ugly proves integrity (Grace Kelly in The Coun- try Girl). Another contrasted role in the same year is good, and so playing twins should be perfect but has not in fact done well. Comedy is out of the question, but a comedian going straight has a chance (Marilyn Monroe's only shot was in Bus Stop). With the performance wrapped up, there are other considerations. The studios have always been accused of fixing things, the most cunning method being to vote in duds as competitors. When Ben-Hur swept the board, Charlton Heston's rivals as best actor included Rock Hudson in Pillow Talk and Troy Donahue in something. If you have been around for years but never won, there may suddenly be a feeling that this is your last chance (John Wayne in True Grit). If you might have won last year but did not, there may be a sympathy vote (Julie Andrews lost the lead in My Fair Lady to Audrey Hepburn, who won with it, then won herself with Mary Poppins). It helps to be a popular Hollywood figure but refusing to become one is not necessarily disastrous; the recurring theme of the book is Katharine Hepburn winning but not attending. She has notched up 12 nomina- tions (with four wins), Bette Davis and Laurence Olivier have ten nominations, Jack Nicholson, Spencer Tracy and Meryl Streep nine. Goodness in the sense of tal- ent has something to do with it.

The Fonda family's Oscars are instruc- tive. Peter was of a generation that did not rate them and has only shared one, for the screenplay of Easy Rider. Jane was a big star, but controversial, spoke against the Oscars themselves and the war in Vietnam but has been nominated seven times and won twice (Klute and Coming Home.) Henry, perhaps the best actor in the place, was nominated once (The Grapes of Wrath) before receiving the kiss of death, an award for Lifetime Achievement, which is no sub- stitute for the real thing and means they reckon you are finished. But Jane stepped in. She formed a company, bought a play, cast herself in a rotten role, got Katharine Hepburn and so presented her father as a loveable old grouch in On Golden Pond. Furthermore, she was known to have got on badly with him and so this was a recon- ciliation, mirrored in the film. It was irre- sistible, and he duly won.

So with all this history at our fingertips, what of the Oscars at the end of the month? Clint Eastwood is the joker, nomi- nated for best actor, best director, best pic- ture with Unforgiven. He is one of their own, he has been around, he has made people a lot of money in the past, and this one has too, but it is something of a come- back — all good. On the other hand west- erns don't win, except for Dances with Wolves, of minimal actors he is the mini- malist and what about Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman, six times nominated, not getting any younger, and blind in this role? Or the return of Robert Altman with The Player, and Howard's End is a classy little movie with nice liberal sentiments? And The Cry- ing Game, a risky venture that has come off? The voting allows no trade-offs as at Cannes, he can have this so he need not have that. With no confidence, I make it Clint Eastwood as Best Director, Al Pacino as Best Actor, Unforgiven as Best Picture. With the women I take Susan Sarandon (respected Hollywood figure, might have won with Thelma and Louise, her Lorenzo's Oil deals with suffering) over the favourite, Emma Thomson (Brits have won the male award three years running, Day Lewis, Irons, Hopkins, she's pretty new, it's almost comedy). But I wouldn't bet on it.