Better than a Poke in the Eye with a Stick

When it comes to the Oscars, sometimes you just have to celebrate what DIDN'T win.

“Chariots of Fire”: Best Picture, 1982
I remember it like I remember the moments before horrific car accidents — the seemingly inevitable approach of an all-out win for “On Golden Pond.” Instead, another odd little British period film, this time with lots of slow motion and an anachronistic soundtrack, snuck in and took over. Hallelujah.

“Dances with Wolves”: Best Picture, 1991
In 1991 the Academy wasn’t ready to give an Oscar to Scorsese — the Beverly Hills retirement homes were still stocked with wheezing industry vets who found Joe Pesci screaming “muthafucka” a little distasteful — but at the same time they couldn’t quite find it in their hollow skulls to top-honor “Ghost” (the real populist choice) or “Awakenings.” They’d already given an award to “The Godfather Part III” back when it was called “The Godfather.” So, Kevin Costner’s big, dumb, lovable Western was left. Things could’ve been a lot worse.

Jessica Lange, “Blue Sky”: Best Actress in a Leading Role, 1995
Again, the options were slim: Jodie Foster going full retard (or whatever she was doing, in “Nell”), Susan Sarandon in a John Grisham potboiler, Winona Ryder in “Little Women,” which, fine though it was, would’ve been like giving an award to a teenager for having clear skin. And Lange, too often nominated but outrun by Meryl Streep and Sally Fields, had kinda earned it.

“Shakespeare in Love”: Best Picture, 1999
If you’d broken Oscar voting down to an algorithm, you’d've thought “Saving Private Ryan” would’ve won this year, if only because it made the voting members feel comfortably smart again after the non-narrative weave of “The Thin Red Line” made them feel like gradeschoolers at a Beckett play. But instead, with Spielberg beginning to seem too skilled with the sticks and carrots, votes were split, and yet another likable, witty, British period piece got the props. English teachers everywhere threw their skirts over their heads.

Nicole Kidman, “The Hours”: Best Actress in a Leading Role, 2003
It was a supporting role in an ensemble, first off, and the Woolfian nose wasn’t even a prosthetic, but digital. (At least Jose Ferrer had to act around a big phallic prop glued to his face.) But it’s better than picking Renee Zellweger for “Chicago,” as would be a good case of shingles, and better than Salma Hayek getting pantheonized for wearing a monobrow. Julianne Moore should’ve come home with the booty that year, for “Far from Heaven,” but you can’t have everything.

“Slumdog Millionaire”: Best Picture, 2008
Actually, I’m not sure we were better off with this bizarre game-show/human prey daydream, over the incredibly questionable “The Reader,” or the utterly pointless “Frost/Nixon,” or the dull hagiography of “Milk.” (“Benjamin Button,” portentous changeling that it is, was just a slot-holding impossibility.) But the losing three were obviously safer, more reflexive choices — biopics, bestselling Holocaust novel, yadda yadda — than a indie shot in India, about Indians, by a Scot known best for junkies and zombies. Something compelled the voters, and at least it wasn’t caution.

[Additional photos: "Cat Ballou," Columbia Pictures, 1965; "The Hours," Paramount Pictures, 1998]

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