I started this movie reviewing gig in early 1994 with a screening of Blink, a blink-and-you-missed-it yarn about a blind woman in some sort of peril.
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The only thing I recall about it is that it starred Madeleine Stowe, whose cool beauty put her in an unassailable place atop my Pantheon of Starlets (until she took the unfortunate step of making her lips fashionably puffy).
That year, 1994, before the puffy lips, was a good year to start this job, a good year to watch some Oscar history in the making.
I remember sitting with a preview audience watching Forrest Gump weeks before it opened.
That was before some conservatives began making the dubious claim that Gump was theirs, that it was the definitive denunciation of the counterculture '60s. And it was before some liberals began a fatuous backlash against Gump for being part of the "dumbing down" of America, which culminated in the New York Times, quite ridiculously, putting it on its list of the worst movies of the year.
All I knew was that the audience I saw it with was transfixed as Gump's sad, moving story played out -- I don't believe that even the rattle of a popcorn bag was heard.
And I remember, three months later, watching as Pulp Fiction surged on to the screen. Jungle Boogie, the Royale with cheese, foot massages, A Flock of Seagulls...
There were only a few critics in the auditorium, but we knew -- without any doubt -- that this was something really, really special.
And those two fine films, so different, set up a natural showdown at the next Oscars: "Gump or anti-Gump?" as a HEAD: on the 1995 Oscar preview put it. I've been lucky enough to be watching movies and the Academy Awards since then.
Here's a look back at some of the memorable Oscar moments since I became the Times-Union movie critic -- great performances, puzzling snubs, gloopy award-winning songs and all:
1995
David Letterman's disastrous "Uma-Oprah" performance aside, this was a fascinating ceremony, given the natural Forrest Gump vs. Pulp Fiction showdown. There were other contenders, of course: Quiz Show, The Shawshank Redemption and Four Weddings and a Funeral. But all attention was on the good vs. evil battle being played out. "Good" won: Gump, to the surprise of few, picked up six Oscars, including best picture, best director and best actor for Tom Hanks (I would have preferred Paul Newman's wise, funny work in Nobody's Fool, but had no problems with Hanks' win).
Nomination snubs of the year: Kirsten Dunst for her child-vampire in Interview With the Vampire. And Hoop Dreams, which some thought had a shot at a best-picture nomination, was ignored even in the documentary feature category. A shame.
What were they thinking? Seven nominations for Bullets Over Broadway? Through the mid-1990s, Oscar voters were still crazy about Woody Allen. That is no more.
I was happy to see: Martin Landau get a nomination (and win) for his astounding Bela Lugosi in Ed Wood; you could practically smell the damp and rot rising off of him. The only drawback? He kept the win away from Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction.
A highlight: Pulp Fiction's slam-dunk, no-doubt-about-it original screenplay win for Quentin Tarantino and Roger Avary.
On reflection: Perhaps it's schizophrenic, but I loved both Forrest Gump and Pulp Fiction, for entirely different reasons.
At the time I was torn between what would be a more worthy Oscar winner -- and went with Gump by the narrowest of margins. The reason? Mainly for its ability to connect with audiences without pandering as it told its remarkable story, a much thornier and ambivalent yarn than what the yammerers on each side would have you believe. I'm thinking now that I might have been wrong: Pulp Fiction wears better, and that screenplay -- even today -- still reads like the demented poetry it is.
1996
This was the year Braveheart won best picture, which, when looking back, seems obvious, given the competition: Apollo 13, Babe, The Postman (the Italian movie, not the screwy Kevin Costner film) and Sense and Sensibility.
But at the time, Mel Gibson's win (his film would get five Oscars and he'd get a directing prize) was by no means guaranteed. There were no clear favorites at that ceremeony, but, in the end, Hollywood couldn't resist epic, bloody spectacle -- of which Braveheart was a dandy example.
Nomination snub of the year: No best-picture nomination for Toy Story?
What were they thinking? Toy Story filmmaker John Lasseter had to be content with a special achievement award for making the first feature-length computer-animated movie. That's fine as far as it goes, but I still think the movie was so innovative that the Academy should have put it up against the big boys for best picture.
I was happy to see: Nick Park and his Wallace & Gromit, who get a feature movie of their own this year, won best animated short for the now-classic yarn A Close Shave.
A highlight: No one seemed to get too excited about the supporting-actress field, so goofy Mira Sorvino's hooker with a heart of gold won for Mighty Aphrodite. After Dianne Wiest's 1995 win for Bullets Over Broadway, it was the second straight award in that category to come from a Woody Allen film that made hardly any money.
On reflection: Gibson's Braveheart was not exactly a box-office smash, despite some great reviews. It was actually released three times, trying to find an audience. Taking in about $75 million at the domestic box office, it broke roughly even (though it made a bundle overseas and did well on video).
1997
Seinfeld later made great fun of The English Patient, so it's hard to think of it now without remembering Julia Louis-Dreyfus urging Ralph Fiennes to just hurry up and die. But it was obviously the kind of prestigious, sweeping movie Oscar loves, to the tune of 12 nominations and nine wins. It was joined in the best picture field by Fargo, Secrets & Lies, Shine and, happily, Jerry Maguire, the classiest mainstream movie of the year -- smart but accessible, romantic yet not sappy.
Nomination snub of the year: Renee Zellweger for Jerry Maguire. Wasn't she a pleasant surprise?
What were they thinking? Kenneth Branagh got an adapted screenplay award -- for "adapting" the entire text of Hamlet.
I was happy to see: Frances McDormand winning for Fargo. She warmed up those chilly Coen brothers, for sure.
A highlight: Some complained that mainstream movies were shut out, but this was a year when a host of quirky or challenging films showed up among the nominations: Sling Blade, Secrets & Lies, Lone Star, Fargo, Trainspotting, Shine, The People vs. Larry Flynt and Breaking the Waves.
On reflection: The English Patient had the most nominations and a lot of Oscar-ready luster, along with being a sweeping romance -- the first time you saw it. Jerry Maguire, another Cameron Crowe triumph, holds up better. You can watch it over and over again (though I'll admit the "you complete me" line has been rightly skewered by wise-guy comedians).
1998
The year of Titanic's 14 nominations and 11 wins and when James Cameron proclaimed himself "king of the world. But forgiving types should allow him such bragging and put aside the fact that so many teenage girls went to see Titanic so many times that it is still the biggest moneymaking movie ever. I liked L.A. Confidential even more, and Good Will Hunting holds up well today. But Cameron and company deserved all they got for Titanic, despite the predictable complaints that came its way from people who figured that, if so many moviegoers liked it, it couldn't be any good.
Nomination snubs of the year: Samuel L. Jackson for Eve's Bayou, Jodie Foster for Contact and Rupert Everett (yes) for My Best Friend's Wedding -- the guy was terrific in that winning light comedy.
What were they thinking? The four nominations for The Wings of the Dove, based on Henry James novel. It was an OK movie but...
I was happy to see: Peter Fonda get a best-actor nomination for Ulee's Gold, from Florida filmmaker Victor Nunez.
So what if he didn't have a prayer of winning?
A highlight: The original screenplay category, always a favorite of mine, had a few worthy entries: Woody Allen's scathing Deconstructing Harry, Paul Thomas Anderson's Boogie Nights and the eventual winner, Good Will Hunting, from young guys Matt Damon and Ben Affleck.
On reflection: Titanic, which had been dogged by rumors that it was going to be a bust, turned out to be just the opposite. Some complained: too mainstream, too predictable (the ship sinks!). And sure, it was. But it was superb, technically -- that sinking was unbelievable -- and had plenty of old-fashioned storytelling verve. It's what the big movie screen was invented for.
1999
This was the year Robert Begnini went nuts when he won best actor of Life is Beautiful, climbing over seats on his way to the stage. Oh yeah -- there was also that win for Shakespeare in Love over Saving Private Ryan, a true moment of suspense in a ceremony often lacking it. Good nail-biting drama, that was. Steven Spielberg got the directing prize for Ryan, though, which seemed fair.
Nomination snubs of the year: Before the nominations came out, I wrote: "It will be hard to ignore Bill Murray's melancholy millionaire in the delightful Rushmore." Well, apparently it wasn't that hard. And speaking of hard to ignore: After Begnini's show of enthusiasm, I'll bet a lot of Oscar people wish they'd nominated Jim Carrey for The Truman Show instead. They should have.
What were they thinking? Judi Dench's now-you-see-her-now-you-don't role on Shakespeare in Love was still deemed substantial enough to win supporting actress. Um, no, it wasn't.
I was happy to see: The original song prize went to some song from The Prince of Egypt that everyone's already forgotten.
That prevented a win for Armageddon's dreadful, gloopy Aerosmith/Diane Warren monstrosity, I Don't Want to Miss a Thing, which would have been a sure sign of the actual Armageddon.
A highlight: After Joseph Fiennes gave this smoldering send-off to Gwyneth Paltrow -- "You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die. Goodbye my love, a thousand times goodbye." -- the original screenplay nomination for Shakespeare in Love was assured.
On reflection: Most people thought Saving Private Ryan would win. I did. But you have to applaud the win for Shakespeare in Love. Humor, romance, passion, the joy of discovery -- it had it all, wrapped up in one literate, good-looking package. Don't you wish they had a movie like that every year?
2000
One of my favorite years. American Beauty won five awards, including the best picture prize it deserved. It was the clear favorite, though it had worthy competition from M. Night Shyamalan's The Sixth Sense, a fine spooky movie, which was blanked at the ceremony. It was also the year of the overblown controversy over the truthfulness of The Hurricane and of the best-actress showdown between Annette Bening (American Beauty) and eventual winner Hilary Swank (Boys Don't Cry). The actresses go at it again this week for the same prize.
Nomination snub of the year: The nominations were so strong that all I can think of putting here is yet another jab at that floppy-eared Jar Jar Binks from the Star Wars prequel. A whole new category -- supporting actor in an annoying role -- needed to be invented for that misbegotten creature.
What were they thinking? I thought it was a stretch when Angelina Jolie of Girl, Interrupted was nominated for a supporting actress prize. And she ended up winning! Frankly, this whole Angelina Jolie thing still has me puzzled.
I was happy to see: The supporting actor nomination for Haley Joel Osment in The Sixth Sense.
A highlight: Check out the original screenplay category -- American Beauty (the winner), Being John Malkovich, Magnolia and The Sixth Sense, along with Mike Leigh's Topsy-Turvy. Not too shabby.
On reflection: As gratified as I was to see American Beauty win, the film I admire even more today is The Sixth Sense.
It's a great story even if you know the twist. And how often does a movie have a mind-bending twist that isn't a cheat? A host of others -- including Shyamalan himself, repeatedly -- have tried to pull off that feat again, and have fallen short.
2001
This was the year Bjork unveiled her swan dress.
Oh, and they also held an Oscar ceremony. And I was a bit snippy about the dozen nominations for Gladiator. "Since when did Gladiator get to be such a great movie?" I asked, completely rhetorically, as it cruised to five wins, including the best picture. It was a fine movie, to be sure, but I was stuck on Traffic that year.
It was the year, after all, of Steven Soderbergh's double-double: two directing nominations and two best-picture nominations for Traffic and Erin Brockovich. Nobody had done that before -- and Soderbergh, who mixed art-house edginess with mainstream entertainment, deserved the acclaim.
Surprisingly, he won the directing prize for Traffic, even though his vote could have been split, even though Ridley Scott could have been swept in with Gladiator.
Nomination snub of the year: Teenager Jamie Bell's brave, fierce performance in Billy Elliott.
What were they thinking? A best-picture nomination for Chocolat?
I was happy to see: Cameron Crowe's original screenplay win for Almost Famous. I've watched that movie a half-dozen times, at least, since. It's just about perfect.
A highlight: The 10 nominations -- and four wins -- for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, a Chinese-language blockbuster... in America.
On reflection: Soderbergh has stayed busy producing and directing, and Ocean's Eleven was good fun, for sure (not so for Twelve or Solaris). But it'd be nice to see him get back to that year's level.
2002
This was a fine year for actors, with up to nine quite plausible nominees in the best-actress category alone (and others crowding up the other acting categories). Best picture A Beautiful Mind was a good film, though not up there with its chief rivals (the first Lord of the Rings, In the Bedroom and the glorious Moulin Rouge). I don't know why they just didn't give the award to Lord of the Rings in the first place, instead of waiting two more years.
Nomination snubs of the year: In a year of such strong performances, omissions were inevitable. For instance, Gene Hackman's irascible turn in The Royal Tenenbaums could easily have edged out Ethan Hawke's solid but unspectacular work in Training Day. Also worthy but missing: Ray Winstone (Sexy Beast), Audrey Tautou (Amelie), Thora Birch and Scarlett Johansson (Ghost World), Tilda Swinton (The Deep End) and Naomi Watts (Mulholland Drive).
What were they thinking? I never could figure out the enthusiasm for best-picture nominee Gosford Park.
I was happy to see: Jim Broadbent's supporting-actor win for playing the frustrated, loving husband in Iris.
What a performance that was -- one of my favorite acting achievements in these 10 years. There were strong runners-up in that category, by the way:
The witty, weary Ian McKellen as the wizard in Lord of the Rings and nasty, nasty Ben Kingsley in Sexy Beast.
A highlight: Two African-American actors, Denzel Washington and Halle Berry, took the top acting categories. That was a first, and it was well deserved.
On reflection: Two terrific movies, Shrek and Monsters, Inc., faced off in the welcome (and overdue) category of best animated feature -- a field where much of the best work in moviedom is being done. The category was long overdue.
2003
The year of Chicago, which won six awards (including best picture) out of its 13 nominations. The enthusiasm was warranted -- a second viewing of that film showed the wizardry involved in almost every frame. You could make the case, then, that director Rob Marshall was robbed when the award went to the absent Roman Polanski for his powerful drama The Pianist. Martin Scorsese, fresh off his mind-boggling Gangs of New York, could have found reason to grumble, too.
Nomination snub of the year: About Schmidt (from the filmmakers gave us Sideways this year) should have been up for best picture instead of The Hours.
What were they thinking? The dreary, artsy story The Hours got nine nominations and a win for the fake-nosed Nicole Kidman.
Inexplicable. Can you imagine wanting to see that movie a second time?
I was happy to see: The posthumous nomination and win for cinematographer Conrad L. Hall, whose Road to Perdition looked simply stunning. And Eminem's win for original song in 8 Mile was an unexpected (to me, anyway) departure from the usual Oscar pattern of bombastic power ballads. What a relief.
A highlight: Well, angry Michael Moore and exuberant Adrien Brody (who planted that kiss on a surprised Halle Berry) kept us on our toes during the ceremony, didn't they?
On reflection: The war on Iraq overshadowed the ceremony, and things seemed far less frivolous than in years past. Strident music cut short the speeches of prizewinners, and even fashions were more subdued. Brody gave a tearful speech, while Moore went on a passionate rant that led to boos and cheers as he was led off the stage. It all prefigured the blending of politics and entertainment in the next year's presidential election.
2004
The Academy's pent-up appreciation for Peter Jackson's Tolkein trilogy burst forth, and the final installment -- The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King -- kept winning... and winning. It took home an Oscar in each of the 11 categories in which it was nominated. Lots of New Zealanders got thanked that night. Luckily for everyone else, the four acting categories were free of Ring-ers, so prizes went to three dark, anguished performances (Sean Penn, Charlize Theron and Tim Robbins). Luckily, there was also Renee Zellweger, playing spunky, from Cold Mountain.
Nomination snub of the year: Evan Rachel Wood of Thirteen warranted a best actress nomination for her astonishingly excruciating work as a troubled teen (her on-screen mother, Holly Hunter, got a supporting nod).
What were they thinking? Nothing against Lord of the Rings, but its Oscar-winning song, Into the West, was kind of a prefab Oscar-winning bummer. How refreshing it would have been to have seen a win for a couple of the other musical numbers performed that night: the sweet Eugene Levy-Catherine O'Hara folk ditty from A Mighty Wind, or the addictive, energetic theme from The Triplets of Belleville.
I was happy to see: The nominations for Keisha Castle-Hughes (Whale Rider) and Shohreh Aghdashloo (House of Sand and Fog).
A highlight: All those Kiwis were awfully polite, weren't they?
On reflection: Many wondered if Peter Jackson was going to be able to pull off the Lord of the Rings trilogy his way, filming all three together down in New Zealand. Just imagine how many ways it could have gone wrong -- and how right it all went.
Reach Matt Soergel at matt.soergel@jacksonville.com, (904) 359-4082
