It started in 1928 with a silent film. Eighty-seven years ago, the silent picture “Wings” won the first Academy Award for Best Picture. I have not watched that movie — yet. “Wings” was the only silent film to win until 2011 and “The Artist,” a surprising accomplishment for a work without words filmed in the 21st Century, the modern era. I have watched and enjoyed “The Artist.”
In a closet in a bedroom, the DVDs of all 86 Academy Award winners are neatly stacked on narrow shelves. Well, almost all, the 1933 winner, “Cavalcade,” has been a particularly difficult flick to find. It seems not all best pictures are as popular as others, and some apparently fall from attention and appreciation.
The newest winner, the Best Picture for the year 2014, will be added as #87 on the the list the evening of February 22, 2015 in Hollywood, California.
We have not viewed the nominees for the 2014 Best Picture. A friend suggested we start. In the time remaining, it would be a race to the finish. Whatever happens, we will view the winner of that race.
The other evening, I watched the 1930 pick, “All Quiet on the Western Front.” Ranked by watchers as the best of the World War 1 movies and by critics as one of the best military movies ever made, it is nonetheless a war movie and an odd one at that. The soldiers are German in proper German uniforms, speaking English in accents from the States. It is not a funny show, not for a moment. It is a very serious picture that directly displays the personal anguish of combat from the perspective of the warrior in the ditch. The final scene walking to the credits is sweet and haunting with a simple direction not found in many films today.
Still, after watching, I worried. Did people really like the movie? Did the critics really think well of the film’s making? Going to Google, I discovered that, of all the 86 Best Pictures to date, viewers placed the old war film at #13, #25, #29, #35 and #36 on their lists of the very best Oscar-winning movies. The average of those five sites is 27.6, inducting the 1930 winner into the top third of all Best Pictures. I was surprised, pleased, amused and sad — in that order. Ejecting the film, I walked to the other room, opened the closet, and placed the quiet picture on the top shelf with the oldest of the Oscars from the 20’s and the 30’s. As the door shut, I wondered who would see it next?
Tastes change, but not good taste.
Perhaps, we’ll plan an Oscar night. Invite folks over for a movie. Pick a best flick to view, with microwave popcorn and sodas and ice. Perhaps, we’ll do it again and again, and watch another and another of the eighty-six, soon to be eighty-seven. People like comedies. They love to laugh. We’ll do that. We’ll choose those. But, one night, I’ll pull out that old movie from the top shelf, turn the lights down and watch their faces.
It’s never too late, for an old friend.
Grandpa Jim