Chris Bohjalian's Blog - Posts Tagged "oscars"
In honor of the Oscars, can writers on the red carpet really go glam?
The Academy Awards tonight could be a monumental evening for Oscar-nominated actresses Rooney Mara, Michelle Williams, and Jessica Chastain. Tomorrow, however, will be even better. Win or lose, Monday morning they all get to eat, probably for the first time since January. Make no mistake, a woman gives up a lot to win an Academy Award, of which flour in February and underwear on the big night are but two of the sacrifices.
Men have it much easier. I’ve never attended the Academy Awards, but once I gave a presentation about the movie, “Midwives,” to a group of TV executives and producers at the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences. I ate plenty beforehand and was indeed wearing underwear.
A female friend of mine, an aspiring actress, thinks Hollywood’s sexism – the reality that beauty goes a long way for women – is unbelievably unfair. “How is it that Steve Buscemi and Paul Giamatti keep getting parts? Yes, they’re talented. I get it! But if a woman looked like that? Unemployable!” she once railed around me.
In any case, I would love someday to set foot inside the Kodak Theater – or what was called the Kodak Theater before the film pioneer went into bankruptcy. Now, I believe, the theater is just called Blockbuster. Or, if you’re there for a screenplay adaptation, Borders.
The truth is, I love the Academy Awards and I really look forward to this evening – and not merely because there is always the chance that Dame Judi Dench will have a wardrobe malfunction or James Franco will wake up. Some years, I actually play the whole Oscar ballot game. To make it really challenging, I don’t waste my time on the actors and actresses and directors. I focus on the technical achievement awards, because the toughest races are always between the folks behind the NAC Servo Winch System and the women and men who invented the volumetric suspended cable camera technologies.
Year after year, however, what fascinates me most is this: The reality that people – including me – spend so much more energy fixating on the Academy Awards than we do on the equivalent celebration of literary accomplishment, the National Book Awards. There are a lot of pretty obvious reasons for this. The movies are a much bigger business. Many more people see movies than read novels and memoirs or even crack the spine of poetry collections. And – there is no polite way to say this – actors and actresses are way better eye candy than poets, historians, and novelists. I’ve been to the National Book Awards a couple of times, and, trust me, it could be a convention of cloggers (the poets) and software designers with bad haircuts (everyone else). Sure, in the novelist camp we have Andre Dubus III and Ann Patchett – who just this week left Stephen Colbert speechless and pulled off some pretty awesome shoes on national television – but we also have a lot of serious writers who look like a Nick Nolte mug shot.
And yet there are just enough writerly rock stars to make for great TV. Dubus and Patchett are only two. Others? J. K. Rowling and Stephen King, for starters. Maya Angelou. Jodi Picoult. Joyce Carol Oates. One of the years I was at the National Book Awards, Steve Martin hosted, and he was every bit as funny as when he hosted the Oscars.
In all honesty, the National Book Awards are probably not ready to migrate over from BookTV (C-Span 2) to ABC. To begin with, we need a lot more awards. And an orchestra. And a nipple slip.
But someday, I hope, we will celebrate books with the same glamour we do movies, and my female peers can have the privilege of not eating, too.
* * *
This column originally appeared in the Burlington Free Press on February 26, 2012. Chris’s next novel, “The Sandcastle Girls,” arrives on July 17. You can add it to your shelves by following this link:
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13...
.
Men have it much easier. I’ve never attended the Academy Awards, but once I gave a presentation about the movie, “Midwives,” to a group of TV executives and producers at the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences. I ate plenty beforehand and was indeed wearing underwear.
A female friend of mine, an aspiring actress, thinks Hollywood’s sexism – the reality that beauty goes a long way for women – is unbelievably unfair. “How is it that Steve Buscemi and Paul Giamatti keep getting parts? Yes, they’re talented. I get it! But if a woman looked like that? Unemployable!” she once railed around me.
In any case, I would love someday to set foot inside the Kodak Theater – or what was called the Kodak Theater before the film pioneer went into bankruptcy. Now, I believe, the theater is just called Blockbuster. Or, if you’re there for a screenplay adaptation, Borders.
The truth is, I love the Academy Awards and I really look forward to this evening – and not merely because there is always the chance that Dame Judi Dench will have a wardrobe malfunction or James Franco will wake up. Some years, I actually play the whole Oscar ballot game. To make it really challenging, I don’t waste my time on the actors and actresses and directors. I focus on the technical achievement awards, because the toughest races are always between the folks behind the NAC Servo Winch System and the women and men who invented the volumetric suspended cable camera technologies.
Year after year, however, what fascinates me most is this: The reality that people – including me – spend so much more energy fixating on the Academy Awards than we do on the equivalent celebration of literary accomplishment, the National Book Awards. There are a lot of pretty obvious reasons for this. The movies are a much bigger business. Many more people see movies than read novels and memoirs or even crack the spine of poetry collections. And – there is no polite way to say this – actors and actresses are way better eye candy than poets, historians, and novelists. I’ve been to the National Book Awards a couple of times, and, trust me, it could be a convention of cloggers (the poets) and software designers with bad haircuts (everyone else). Sure, in the novelist camp we have Andre Dubus III and Ann Patchett – who just this week left Stephen Colbert speechless and pulled off some pretty awesome shoes on national television – but we also have a lot of serious writers who look like a Nick Nolte mug shot.
And yet there are just enough writerly rock stars to make for great TV. Dubus and Patchett are only two. Others? J. K. Rowling and Stephen King, for starters. Maya Angelou. Jodi Picoult. Joyce Carol Oates. One of the years I was at the National Book Awards, Steve Martin hosted, and he was every bit as funny as when he hosted the Oscars.
In all honesty, the National Book Awards are probably not ready to migrate over from BookTV (C-Span 2) to ABC. To begin with, we need a lot more awards. And an orchestra. And a nipple slip.
But someday, I hope, we will celebrate books with the same glamour we do movies, and my female peers can have the privilege of not eating, too.
* * *
This column originally appeared in the Burlington Free Press on February 26, 2012. Chris’s next novel, “The Sandcastle Girls,” arrives on July 17. You can add it to your shelves by following this link:
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13...
.
Co-Hosts for COTS: Seth and Whoopi and Billy better watch out
It was two weeks ago tonight that many millions of us watched Kristen Chenoweth ask movie stars on the Oscar red carpet, “Who are you wearing?” I’ve always found the phrasing of that question a little creepy – a little too “Silence of the Lambs,” if you get my drift. Then we got to watch Seth MacFarlane open his first gig as Oscar host by singing “We saw your boobs” – also creepy, but mostly because of what it says about us, not him.
I am rehashing a two-week-old news story, the 85th Academy Awards, because a week from Wednesday night, March 20, I am co-hosting a gala right here in Vermont with my great friend, Stephen Kiernan. It’s the 30th anniversary gala and fundraiser for Burlington’s Committee on Temporary Shelter at the waterfront Hilton, and I was watching MacFarlane carefully so that Kiernan and I would know how to gracefully move the evening along. You know, how to hit that perfect vibe between Billy Crystal and Michelle Obama. (Incidentally, after watching the First Lady dancing with Fallon and presenting the Oscar for Best Picture, I want our current FLOTUS to be our next POTUS.)
Here is what I took away from the night.
It will be important to remind people of the spectacularly important work that COTS does – both sheltering the homeless in our midst and preventing thousands of others from losing their homes. Between 2008 and 2012, the worst of the recent recession, COTS helped over 1,300 Vermont households – and 1,383 children – remain in their homes. There are a lot of reasons why I’m a big fan of COTS, but right there are 1,300 of them.
Another lesson from the Academy Awards? Neither Kiernan nor I should try and rock a pair of Jack Nicholson shades. Only Nicholson can get away with wearing sunglasses at night. And, along those lines, we shouldn’t ask anyone what they’re wearing – unless they’re Bjork and they’re wearing that swan. Besides, this isn’t a black tie affair. Attire is everyday business. If someone shows up dressed like Charlize Theron or Kristen Stewart, we’ll simply ask if they’re in the right spot. (On the other hand, if someone shows up with Kristen Stewart’s hair, we will also ask if she needs a comb. Bella had serious bed-head on Oscar night.)
Kiernan is an award-winning journalist whose first novel arrives this summer and the former editorial page editor of this very paper. He has the heavy lifting at the gala, because he’s giving the keynote address. I merely have to sing, “We saw your boobs.” I’m kidding, of course. We’re bringing in a children’s choir for that little ditty. I merely have to repress my inner curmudgeon and say clever things like, “Thank you all for coming. Drive home safe – and be thankful you actually have homes. Not everyone does.”
See how easy that was? Both clever and true.
Incidentally, there will be an auction with some terrific items. Among them? The chance to be a character in my 2014 novel – which is set in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom and in downtown Burlington. But, as the old New York State lottery ads reminded us, you have to be in it to win it, and to be in it you have to be at the COTS gala. So, please join Kiernan and me. It’s a great cause and I promise I won’t say anything that Seth MacFarlane did on Oscar night.
I will say things that are much, much worse.
* * *
IF YOU GO
What: The COTS 30th Anniversary Gala
When: Wednesday, March 20. Cocktails at 5, dinner and auction at 6:30
Where: The Hilton, 60 Battery Street
How much: $130 per person
Visit www.cotsonline.org or call (802) 540-3084 (ext. 207) to reserve your seat
(This column appeared originally in the Burlington Free Press. Chris’s new novel, “The Light in the Ruins,” arrives on July 9.)
I am rehashing a two-week-old news story, the 85th Academy Awards, because a week from Wednesday night, March 20, I am co-hosting a gala right here in Vermont with my great friend, Stephen Kiernan. It’s the 30th anniversary gala and fundraiser for Burlington’s Committee on Temporary Shelter at the waterfront Hilton, and I was watching MacFarlane carefully so that Kiernan and I would know how to gracefully move the evening along. You know, how to hit that perfect vibe between Billy Crystal and Michelle Obama. (Incidentally, after watching the First Lady dancing with Fallon and presenting the Oscar for Best Picture, I want our current FLOTUS to be our next POTUS.)
Here is what I took away from the night.
It will be important to remind people of the spectacularly important work that COTS does – both sheltering the homeless in our midst and preventing thousands of others from losing their homes. Between 2008 and 2012, the worst of the recent recession, COTS helped over 1,300 Vermont households – and 1,383 children – remain in their homes. There are a lot of reasons why I’m a big fan of COTS, but right there are 1,300 of them.
Another lesson from the Academy Awards? Neither Kiernan nor I should try and rock a pair of Jack Nicholson shades. Only Nicholson can get away with wearing sunglasses at night. And, along those lines, we shouldn’t ask anyone what they’re wearing – unless they’re Bjork and they’re wearing that swan. Besides, this isn’t a black tie affair. Attire is everyday business. If someone shows up dressed like Charlize Theron or Kristen Stewart, we’ll simply ask if they’re in the right spot. (On the other hand, if someone shows up with Kristen Stewart’s hair, we will also ask if she needs a comb. Bella had serious bed-head on Oscar night.)
Kiernan is an award-winning journalist whose first novel arrives this summer and the former editorial page editor of this very paper. He has the heavy lifting at the gala, because he’s giving the keynote address. I merely have to sing, “We saw your boobs.” I’m kidding, of course. We’re bringing in a children’s choir for that little ditty. I merely have to repress my inner curmudgeon and say clever things like, “Thank you all for coming. Drive home safe – and be thankful you actually have homes. Not everyone does.”
See how easy that was? Both clever and true.
Incidentally, there will be an auction with some terrific items. Among them? The chance to be a character in my 2014 novel – which is set in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom and in downtown Burlington. But, as the old New York State lottery ads reminded us, you have to be in it to win it, and to be in it you have to be at the COTS gala. So, please join Kiernan and me. It’s a great cause and I promise I won’t say anything that Seth MacFarlane did on Oscar night.
I will say things that are much, much worse.
* * *
IF YOU GO
What: The COTS 30th Anniversary Gala
When: Wednesday, March 20. Cocktails at 5, dinner and auction at 6:30
Where: The Hilton, 60 Battery Street
How much: $130 per person
Visit www.cotsonline.org or call (802) 540-3084 (ext. 207) to reserve your seat
(This column appeared originally in the Burlington Free Press. Chris’s new novel, “The Light in the Ruins,” arrives on July 9.)
A novelist's confession: Before I write. . .I watch
Tonight is the night when otherwise sane reporters channel their inner Hannibal Lecter and ask women, "Who are you wearing?" It's the sort of creepy question that is usually directed at people who have human body parts in their freezers. But not tonight. Tonight it's the inquiry that annually precedes the Academy Awards, and it is asked of our Hollywood icons as they walk the red carpet. The women — especially those women who have been nominated for awards — smile, while thinking longingly of tomorrow, when once more they can eat and wear underwear.
I love movies as much as I love books, and so I love the Academy Awards. And here's a confession: Movies are inspiration for my writing. Years ago, I would read a little poetry before starting to string words of my own together. Other days I would skim a thesaurus. Occasionally, I still do. But more often I start my day by watching movie trailers. I do this because of the way a good trailer distills the movie's sensibility down to a couple of minutes, and the music has been chosen to create a very specific mood: Dread. Longing. Romance.
Moreover, I think it helps my writing even more if I've seen the movie. The fact that I know the story brings me back to the emotional state I was in while watching the film the first time.
There are four movies that will be discussed a lot tonight, three because they are in the running for awards, and one because one of its leads was "snubbed." (I use this word only because everyone else has.) I've seen all of these films and watched the trailers a lot the last month and a half.
I'll begin with the trailer for "Wild," the powerful adaptation of Cheryl Strayed's memoir of hiking the Pacific Coast Trail and trying to rediscover who she was as a person. It stars Reese Witherspoon, who is my choice for Best Actress in a Leading Role. The trailer begins with Witherspoon quoting Emily Dickinson and then segues into Beck's "Turn Away." The opening lyric? "Turn away from the sound of your own voice." It exudes regret and pain, moments that for better or worse pepper my fiction.
I'm also a fan of the trailer for "Cake," the movie that has garnered ink because Jennifer Aniston looks dowdy, has bad hair, and didn't get an Oscar nod – despite a courageous performance. The music that runs through the trailer is from a Brooklyn band called Haerts (not a typo – a before e). It's called "Hemiplegia." I had to look the word up when I found the song: It means paralysis of one side of the body. The music is surreal and captures beautifully for me that transitional state between sleeping and walking – when you believe you're awake and yet are unable to move.
I've used the "Birdman" trailer a lot to get started, both because of Brent Smith's spectacular cover of the old Animals hit, "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood," and because of the way the trailer probes every artist's worst fears: being washed-up. Being a has-been. But the movie is about risking everything to be relevant. "This is about being respected and validated, remember, that's what you told me!" an anguished Zach Galifianakis tells Michael Keaton. The writing is honest and funny and poignant — and my pick for Best Original Screenplay.
I have watched the trailer for "Boyhood" a dozen times. "Boyhood" is Richard Linklater's audacious experiment filmed over twelve years, and we quite literally watch child actors Ellar Coltrane and Lorelei Linklater grow up, and adult actors Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke grow older. Nothing horrific happens, and yet the movie is wrenching: it wrecked my wife and me when we saw it, because it so perfectly captures how fast our lives pass, how hard it is to be a kid, and how easy it is for even the most well-intentioned parents to make bad decisions daily. And the trailer soundtrack? "Hero," by the band, Family of the Year. It leaves me wistful and a little wounded, which is the perfect state for me to be in when I am hanging around with my most vulnerable fictional creations.
Finally, I have to give a shout-out to the trailer for "Selma." It is wrenching and riveting. The movie has not yet opened here in Burlington, Vermont. I hope it does soon.
When you read my next novel, you won't see echoes of these scenes and stories. But maybe you'll detect an emotional remnant here and there.
Enjoy the Oscars. If you have time, tweet me: Who are you wearing tonight?
(This column appeared originally in the Burlington Free Press on February 22, 2015. Chris most recent novel, "Close Your Eyes, Hold Hands," arrives in May.)
I love movies as much as I love books, and so I love the Academy Awards. And here's a confession: Movies are inspiration for my writing. Years ago, I would read a little poetry before starting to string words of my own together. Other days I would skim a thesaurus. Occasionally, I still do. But more often I start my day by watching movie trailers. I do this because of the way a good trailer distills the movie's sensibility down to a couple of minutes, and the music has been chosen to create a very specific mood: Dread. Longing. Romance.
Moreover, I think it helps my writing even more if I've seen the movie. The fact that I know the story brings me back to the emotional state I was in while watching the film the first time.
There are four movies that will be discussed a lot tonight, three because they are in the running for awards, and one because one of its leads was "snubbed." (I use this word only because everyone else has.) I've seen all of these films and watched the trailers a lot the last month and a half.
I'll begin with the trailer for "Wild," the powerful adaptation of Cheryl Strayed's memoir of hiking the Pacific Coast Trail and trying to rediscover who she was as a person. It stars Reese Witherspoon, who is my choice for Best Actress in a Leading Role. The trailer begins with Witherspoon quoting Emily Dickinson and then segues into Beck's "Turn Away." The opening lyric? "Turn away from the sound of your own voice." It exudes regret and pain, moments that for better or worse pepper my fiction.
I'm also a fan of the trailer for "Cake," the movie that has garnered ink because Jennifer Aniston looks dowdy, has bad hair, and didn't get an Oscar nod – despite a courageous performance. The music that runs through the trailer is from a Brooklyn band called Haerts (not a typo – a before e). It's called "Hemiplegia." I had to look the word up when I found the song: It means paralysis of one side of the body. The music is surreal and captures beautifully for me that transitional state between sleeping and walking – when you believe you're awake and yet are unable to move.
I've used the "Birdman" trailer a lot to get started, both because of Brent Smith's spectacular cover of the old Animals hit, "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood," and because of the way the trailer probes every artist's worst fears: being washed-up. Being a has-been. But the movie is about risking everything to be relevant. "This is about being respected and validated, remember, that's what you told me!" an anguished Zach Galifianakis tells Michael Keaton. The writing is honest and funny and poignant — and my pick for Best Original Screenplay.
I have watched the trailer for "Boyhood" a dozen times. "Boyhood" is Richard Linklater's audacious experiment filmed over twelve years, and we quite literally watch child actors Ellar Coltrane and Lorelei Linklater grow up, and adult actors Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke grow older. Nothing horrific happens, and yet the movie is wrenching: it wrecked my wife and me when we saw it, because it so perfectly captures how fast our lives pass, how hard it is to be a kid, and how easy it is for even the most well-intentioned parents to make bad decisions daily. And the trailer soundtrack? "Hero," by the band, Family of the Year. It leaves me wistful and a little wounded, which is the perfect state for me to be in when I am hanging around with my most vulnerable fictional creations.
Finally, I have to give a shout-out to the trailer for "Selma." It is wrenching and riveting. The movie has not yet opened here in Burlington, Vermont. I hope it does soon.
When you read my next novel, you won't see echoes of these scenes and stories. But maybe you'll detect an emotional remnant here and there.
Enjoy the Oscars. If you have time, tweet me: Who are you wearing tonight?
(This column appeared originally in the Burlington Free Press on February 22, 2015. Chris most recent novel, "Close Your Eyes, Hold Hands," arrives in May.)
