La La Land lands badly
Five awards isn’t bad. In any other year, it’d be amazing. But what was meant to be a La La landslide turned into just a minor bit of earthworking as Damien Chazelle’s movie musical failed to take predicted wins for original screenplay, costume design, sound, production design and editing.
Excited chatter about it equalling or even beating Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid’s nine wins back in 1971 proved elusive as the favourite fell at almost every early hurdle before picking itself up towards the final gallop.
Does this mean it’s less of a lock for extraordinary Oscars glory in 14 days? Nope. It might even help it. Final voting for the Academy Awards opens on Monday before closing eight days later – and part of the movie’s genius in hoovering up that record number of Golden Globes was to position itself as an (unlikely) underdog. A bit of Brit snubbing plays into that narrative great.
Diversity rules – sort of
Awards seasons tend to coalesce around two or three major titles, but at one point, two thirds of the way through the evening, Bafta had given 15 different films one award each. In fact, the first film to get a second statuette was Lion, as Dev Patel gambolled onto the stage to collect best supporting actor. Awards bodies aren’t active agents, and the awards simply reflect a vote, but this extreme love-spreading indicates a serious lack of consensus as to who and what was most deserving. La La Land grabbed a few at the last round, but the rest of the evening was like a chaotic game of bingo: which film was going to get its brief turn in the spotlight?
Americana gets lost in translation
When the nominations arrived there was quite a bit of unhappy chat about #BaftasSoWhite: where was Denzel Washington for Fences? What about Barry Jenkins for Moonlight? The riposte – which perhaps contains some merit, despite Bafta’s acknowledged diversity issues – was that they were very American stories: Fences, in the end, was about baseball, Moonlight about Miami.
Well, Bafta showed it wasn’t entirely insensitive to the situation, with Viola Davis scooping best supporting actress and, further down the list, Ava DuVernay’s incendiary justice system documentary 13th taking the honours (the latter over British-interest films Eight Days a Week and Notes on Blindness). But the complete shut-out for Moonlight – a film whose tender brilliance you would think would cross borders – is genuinely baffling.
#BaftasSoPoliticallyVanilla – except for Ken Loach
In the event, expectations that the Baftas would turn into a Brexit-and-Trump-fuelled protestathon turned out to be … a fat load of nothing. Politically, this was as vanilla as it gets. Not that they didn’t nod to the current hoo-hah, but only within a careful template which involved variations on the phrases “uncertain times”, “breaking down borders” and “redemptive power of creativity”.
Ken Loach, unsurprisingly, gave the government stick over its treatment of benefit claimants, and Fry made a couple of very timid Trump gags, but none of the big shots took a major stand. Viola Davis gave her speech some welly as she blasted Jim Crow laws, but it seemed like it was aimed at the wrong crowd. Maybe she was just practising for the Oscars. Let’s hope, anyway, that some people are just keeping their powder dry for some proper fireworks in a fortnight.
Family matters
Casey Affleck got into acting because he had to imitate his alcoholic mum at AA meetings. Viola Davis’s dad died in McDonald’s. Dev Patel’s clan always gather to watch the Baftas. Stanley Tucci’s wife has slept with his Devil Wears Prada co-star (because Felicity and Emily Blunt are sisters).
Kenneth Lonergan’s daughter cried after Trump was elected, then went on five protest marches. The speeches may have muted the political engagement, but almost none kept mum when it came to intimate family secret.
Fry’s tiring delight
Want to guarantee a risk-free evening? Stephen Fry is your man. Now on his 13th year as Baftas host (surely it’s closer to 300?) the magniloquent old orateur rolled out his usual slippy similes (“gliding along with all the grace of a generously moisturised kipper”), but lacked any of the wit or bite of his American counterparts. Even Anne Hathaway and James Franco mustered more satire. At least last year he called Jenny Beavan a bag lady and quit Twitter in a huff after people suggested that wasn’t a nice way to talk about your friend. Is it too traitorous for us to beg for an emcee transfusion? If not someone actually spiky such as Simon Amstell, a Mel or a Sue, or even a Zoe Ball might be nice.
The Baftas still have pulling power
Despite the awkward spectacle of British upper classes trying to be all Hollywood, it doesn’t seem to put off the Hollywooders themselves, who turn up in droves (possibly because of that final-round voting issue mentioned earlier). Some quality names showed up, particularly in the female categories – Amy Adams, Emma Stone, Meryl Streep – even if some of the men (Ryan Gosling, Jake Gyllenhaal, Jeff Bridges) clearly had better things to do. Adams and Tom Ford were no doubt relishing actual nominations, which the Oscars signally failed to deliver. Barry Jenkins, Moonlight’s director, stoutly showed to support his colleagues, even though he’d been personally snubbed by Bafta voters. A duff year in terms of the ceremony, then – but Bafta’s still got it.
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