Chapter 495: Tearing the Demographic Apart

Holding an absolute advantage early on only to suffer a reversal at the very end wasn't all that rare in Hollywood history. Saving Private Ryan and Shakespeare in Love were undoubtedly the best examples.

Before the voting ended, anything could happen.

Per Academy rules, production and distribution companies had to cease all public activities once the Oscar nominations were announced. Continued lobbying of voters was strictly prohibited. Yet, just as in years past, while public PR and lobbying ground to a halt, private campaigning and media hype never rested for a moment.

Oscar campaigning was a massive undertaking that naturally required enormous financial support, especially for media promotion. Deeply influential Hollywood publications like Vanity Fair, the Hollywood Reporter, and Premiere didn't advertise and promote anyone for free. Behind those seemingly fair reports almost always lay a transaction, with a single page often fetching upwards of six figures.

Even with Nancy Josephson and Penny Kalis conducting carpet-bombing telephone campaigns and seizing every possible opportunity for face-to-face communication, a considerable number of Oscar voters still wouldn't watch the nominated films. Their voting method was often very simple: they chose familiar names.

Where did those familiar names come from?

This was where the power of media promotion made itself felt.

No one could deny that a vast number of people—Academy voters included—were influenced by the media. The words of renowned film critics, who held columns in prominent publications, would inevitably reach a considerable number of those voters.

Professional film critics were in decline, but no one could afford to ignore their power during awards season.

If anyone actually asked this bunch of critics—who were more hindrance than help—to offer reasonable suggestions for the film industry's development, they probably wouldn't even know where to start. But when it came to dragging others down during awards season, their impact was not to be underestimated.

Completely eradicating the influence of film critics during awards season was extremely difficult. The best method was to defeat them with time. Once those old men in the Academy who had grown up alongside the film critics went to meet their Maker, the critics' influence would infinitely decline. Even if the new team controlling the core of the Academy still consisted of old conservatives, as long as they lacked a profound connection to the golden age of film criticism, the critics' power would plummet.

Take people like Duke, Michael Bay, or James Cameron, for example. If they became senior members of the Academy, how could they ever be influenced by the opinions of film critics?

Every era had its own distinct traits.

Having snagged twelve nominations, Duke's mind was set on twelve awards. Barring the unexpected, he would likely never have an opportunity like this again.

But his biggest obstacle to taking home all twelve awards wasn't Harvey Weinstein and Miramax Pictures; it was these professional film critics, who numbered just over four hundred across all of North America.

To counteract the negative comments from these professionals, Duke's team continuously fed news and commentary to the media, doing their best to drive a wedge between the critic community and both the audience and the film industry.

"The combined global box office for The Lord of the Rings Trilogy is about to surpass 4 billion dollars. Yet, the most successful film franchise in history has sparked controversies far beyond the movies themselves. On one side stands the high praise of audiences and Hollywood; on the other, the fanatical negative appraisals of film critics. Why has The Lord of the Rings Trilogy triggered a battle that is 'tearing the demographic apart' in North America?"

The latest issue of Vanity Fair specifically published a commentary aimed at film critics on a prominent page.

"Ever since The Fellowship of the Ring ushered in the fantasy film trend, audiences and Hollywood have stood in unprecedented opposition to professional film critics. The vast majority of the latter consider The Lord of the Rings Trilogy to be utter trash, while the vast majority of the former revere it as a masterpiece of cinematic history."

"In the eyes of the professional critic community, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy is just another cash-grab commercial blockbuster directed by Duke Rosenberg, following in the footsteps of Independence Day, The Matrix, and Daylight. Its professional ratings are so low that perhaps only Batman and Robin, which became a national laughingstock back in the day, could compare. On Rotten Tomatoes, which aggregates critic reviews, the freshness rating for Return of the King barely scrapes past 60 percent."

"However, the views of the general audience and the Hollywood industry are the polar opposite. Traditionally hard to please, ordinary audiences have actually found a rare unity this time. They are cheering and singing the praises of The Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Many have gone to the theaters to watch it three or even seven times. The domineering Duke Rosenberg has delivered a magical epic, and audiences have seized the opportunity for a carnival, going crazy right alongside the films. An even larger segment of the audience is enraged by the widespread negative reviews from critics, declaring them clear proof of the critics' low caliber and their tendency to nitpick just for the sake of nitpicking!"

"Duke Rosenberg and his Return of the King might just be the first film since the popularization of the internet in North America—an era where everyone has a voice—to completely pit the opinions of the public and Hollywood against the professional critics. But how was such a crisp, resounding split created? And whose side should we be on?"

"Perhaps a few numbers are the best evidence to establish a stance. There have been 130 million admissions for Return of the King in North America. On IMDB, which tracks general audience ratings, 387,562 users have currently given the film an average score of 9.2, making it the highest-rated movie on the IMDB website right now."

"Numerous Hollywood celebrities have also voiced their opinions on this film, with over 90 percent praising The Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Meanwhile, the average rating from 1,056 media outlets across the United States for Return of the King is 88 points!"

"Compared to hundreds of millions of viewers, thousands of North American media outlets, and hundreds of Hollywood industry insiders, the four hundred film critics are a community that couldn't possibly be any smaller. Is their voice truly reliable? Even if they fashion themselves as the so-called elite, are these hundreds of millions of viewers all idiots?"

"In fact, looking across the reviews from professional film critics, including some well-known ones, those who actually say something of substance are incredibly rare. Professional film critics long ago devolved into relying on vicious attacks and verbal abuse to attract attention."

Setting down the newspaper in his hands, Arthur Miller took off his glasses but didn't say anything.

Even though this Jewish ex-husband of Marilyn Monroe had stepped down as Academy president and had been living a secluded life for the past two years, he was still an Academy member and could influence the choices of a considerable number of people.

"Old friend, have you still not made up your mind?" an old voice rang out.

It was Frank Pierson, sitting in front of Arthur Miller's recliner. The Academy's rotating vice president looked at him and said, "If we let go of our prejudices against Duke Rosenberg, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy he produced is absolutely worthy of being called great..."

Arthur Miller raised a hand to interrupt him. "He is too obsessed with commerce, and the film's professional reputation..."

Saying this, he suddenly shook his head. "Duke Rosenberg is not a traditional Hollywood-style director."

"He really isn't."

What should a traditional director be like? Frank Pierson was very clear on this. Spielberg was the best example. After achieving commercial success, he had done everything in his power to squeeze his way into the Oscars, desperately using his attitude, his film style, and various other means to curry favor with old men like them to achieve an artistic breakthrough.

But among the illustrious directors in Hollywood, there were two who refused to lean even slightly toward this path. Duke Rosenberg was one of them, and he was walking further and further down the commercial road, becoming more and more successful...

Frank Pierson knew very well that if it weren't for the momentum accumulated by The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, even if he were willing to help him, Duke Rosenberg might not have achieved such massive success at the Oscars.

This wasn't just an issue of film style; it also involved his attitude toward movies.

But the trilogy's success was laid bare right in front of the Academy. If they didn't give such an immensely influential work and its director relatively fair treatment, where would the Academy's authority rest in the future?

Furthermore, rumors were circulating within the industry that if he couldn't receive relatively fair treatment, Duke Rosenberg would publicly announce his permanent withdrawal from the Oscar race...

If he sank into obscurity after that, it wouldn't be a big deal. But what if he continued to succeed?

Looking at the current situation, he was bound to become even more successful in the future. He was a figure destined to be remembered by history. If even someone like him boycotted the Oscars, what kind of damage would that do to the reputation of the Academy and this group of old men?

Frank Pierson had been considering these issues ever since Return of the King was released. The Lord of the Rings Trilogy had come out consecutively over three years, achieving massive success for three consecutive years, which had forced the Academy into an extremely passive position.

Arthur Miller handed the ballot envelope the Academy had mailed him a while ago to Frank Pierson. "I made my choice a few days ago. Mail it for me. Frank, the times have changed. Do as you see fit."

"I will."

Taking the envelope, Frank Pierson saw Arthur Miller close his eyes, so he stood up, said his goodbyes, and left. When he got into his car, his head was still full of thoughts regarding this year's Oscars.

Perhaps the Academy could use this year's Oscars to demonstrate its determination to reform to the outside world, buying a few years of peace from the media and public who constantly attacked it?

As for true reform toward a younger demographic? Frank Pierson had never even considered that. If the Academy grew younger, where would the authority of old men like them lie?

Young people could continue to strive in the realm of cinema. As for old men like them, other than clinging to the core of the Academy, how else could they assert their presence and importance?

The 76th Oscar Awards Ceremony was fast approaching, and the deadline for the Academy to collect the ballots was drawing nearer. The Oscar voters were casting their ballots using whatever methods suited them best.