Anora’s win for Best Original Screenplay is a slap in the face to the craft of writing. What are we doing here, Academy? Seriously – what’s the plan moving forward? You were the place that inspired dreamers all over the world to seriously consider ‘movies’ as a career goal. Not just actors and directors, but the un-famous folk – like writers and editors. With this year’s Oscar results, it’s pretty clear you’ve lost perspective on what ‘Best’ means, and instead of inspiring, you are demoralizing.
Sean Baker might be a great director. He might have made a worthy ‘Best Picture’ winner. He might be a delightful human being. But the script for Anora is not deserving of the top honor, and our craft – writing – deserves more respect.
Throughout awards season, Baker and his cast talked often about all the improvisation that contributed to the movie. At times it felt like the script was written on a post-it note. A basic story arc, and then let’s figure it all out on set.
That. Is. Not. Screenwriting.
Language in the hands of a talented writer is incredibly powerful. The way words are assembled, and then expressed by a talented actor can move audiences to tears of sadness, or joy, hopefully both. Writing is a craft. A skill that demands years of practice and hard work. Writing can change people’s lives.
The winner of ‘Best Original Screenplay’ is already an endangered species in this ‘Intellectual Property’ era. Finding five movies made from an idea, rather than a book is increasingly difficult. But that’s no excuse for choosing a script that wasn’t crafted. Or sculpted, or even fully written in the traditional sense.
Screenwriting has been disrespected since day one – we all understand that. Ever heard of a novelist having other writers brought on to rewrite their original idea, and then share credit? But it feels like we’re sinking even lower right now. The Academy’s meandering nosedive to irrelevance isn’t helping. Giving a writing award to a movie that was largely improvised is embarrassing, sad, and infuriating.
But at least writers aren’t the only ones who deserve to feel frustrated. Best Editing? I defy anyone to see Anora and tell me it shouldn’t be shorter, or that some scenes stayed far too long. From a content editing point of view – this movie needed it more than The Brutalist – and that thing was seven days long. So it didn’t win because it was a tightly paced, expertly crafted piece of cinema. It’s sloppy and raw. And those aren’t insults. Nor are they reasons to hand out a ‘Best Editing’ trophy.
Editing takes years to master. It’s a craft, a skill, and a passion. It’s technical, but also relies on ‘feel’. Editors contribute so much to a film. Giving Sean Baker the biggest, loudest trophy for a technical job people spend their entire careers mastering is…you guessed it…embarrassing and sad and wildly disrespectful.
Why do I take all this crap so personally? Because the Oscars have let the teenage me down. I used to sit on the couch in Australia, watching the ceremony, and feeling the fire burning inside. The desire to be a part of it – any part. The desire to write to make people feel, and to contribute to the cultural conversation. The dream was that winning an Oscar was the ultimate recognition my efforts had touched lives, and I had created something powerful, and meaningful to many. That my command of language had an impact.
Watching a guy who assembled actors in a room and probably yelled ‘Go for it’ – get a writing trophy touches me personally. It means that the dream I had no longer exists. Now, granted, given what I know now, that dream was pretty stupid, but it pushed me into this craft.
So I ask again Academy – what’s the game plan here? You’ve lost perspective. You’re rapidly shedding your aura, your dive into the celebration of hardcore indie movies is driving away movie fans, and now your award choices are disrespecting and offending the few remaining loyal film nerds who still value your prize. Who are you appealing too right now?
The teenage me probably wouldn’t have watched last night’s ceremony. Which means I’d probably be an Australian lawyer now. A rich, very miserable lawyer. That makes me profoundly sad.
Pull yourself together Academy. Honor and celebrate command of craft. Each craft. Enough with the ‘hyphenate’ winning. The people who devote all their energy to writing should be celebrated. Many people who write have no interest in directing. Give them hope, that their one skill deserves recognition. Because IT DOES. But right now, you’re making it pretty clear that along with a decidedly foggy financial future, dedicated screenwriters don’t even deserve a moment of respect and recognition at your big night.
We need writers. Without us, movies face an ‘auteur’ or even ‘AI’ filled future. In time, you’ll realize that does not equal better entertainment for the people who hold your future in their hands…the audience.
For shame Oscars. For shame.
Tim Schildberger is a screenwriter, author, podcaster and the founder of Write LA – an online writing resource and screenwriting competition. Born and raised in Australia, he was a writer on the globally popular TV series Neighbours, a senior member of the production team on the feature Borat, and created, wrote, produced and directed a 13-episode comedy series for US and International TV called Lawrence of America. Contact him at tim@write-la.com
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