by John Ellis
Depending on when you read this, tomorrow night is Hollywood’s Prom Night. A-listers parade in front of the cameras wearing enough monies worth of clothes and jewels to feed an entire small country. They then take their seats inside the plush theatre, and settle in to be celebrated by none other than themselves. B-listers and the movie production crews sit in the back of the Dolby Theatre, hoping that cameras will deign to pan across their row; screen time at the Oscars is worth money, after all. Just because you’re invited to the prom doesn’t mean you get to dance.
Hollywood’s evening of self-congratulation is a reminder that their world is small, privileged, and requires an invitation to enter. As referenced above, not all those invited are allowed to fully participate, though. The Oscars also demonstrate that homogeneity exists in a sub-culture that is supposedly diverse (and I’m not talking about the lack of or manufactured frequency of non-white nominees and/or winners). Like a high school prom in an 80s movie, the Oscars allows the cool kids to flaunt their coolness in the face of the wallflowers, much less in the the faces of those glued to the TV screen.