The story of Selma was born from inequality and decades later, as we approach the 87th Academy Awards, it’s clear that not enough has changed.
“Selma” is a momentous historical drama that tells the story of a critical turning point in the American civil rights movement. Ava DuVernay (“Middle of Nowhere”) directed the film and British actor David Oyelowo (“Rise of the Planet of the Apes”) stars as Martin Luther King Jr., celebrated activist and orator. Much of the film was shot right here in metropolitan Atlanta, where King was born. It was released nationwide on Jan. 9 and met with near-universal acclaim.
“Selma” ranks as one of 2014’s most well-reviewed films, boasting a “certified fresh” rating of 99 percent on film review aggregator Rotten Tomatoes. DuVernay became the first black female director to earn a Golden Globe nomination for her “astonishingly rich and nuanced” work behind the camera and Oyelowo’s outstanding performance as King earned him a Globe nomination. It appeared that “Selma” was poised to contend in numerous categories at this year’s Academy Awards, including best director and best actor.
Here’s the problem: The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences didn’t quite see it that way.
The organization behind the Oscars nominated “Selma” for both best picture and best song of the year, but those small victories rang hollow as DuVernay’s direction and Oyelowo’s performance went unrecognized. So while this outcome can’t be termed a total “snub,” it is close enough to be considered a resounding disappointment.
These and other Academy oversights, which resulted in the Oscars’ first all-white slate of acting nominees since 1998, have rightfully inspired quite an outrage. The uproar even spawned a trending topic on Twitter, #OscarsSoWhite, through which much of the American movie-going public has voiced its collective displeasure.
Defenders of the Academy’s decision — yes, they exist — are quick to point out that the organization showered “12 Years a Slave” in accolades last year, awarding it best picture and best adapted screenplay while selecting Lupita Nyong’o as 2013’s best supporting actress. At the time, many viewed the success of “12 Years a Slave” as symbolic of a new era of racial parity in the film industry. And that very same year, in a similarly inclusive move, the Academy elected their first black president, Cheryl Boone Isaacs. Unfortunately, the organization has demonstrated that it still has a long way to go in addressing its egregious diversity issue.
According to a 2012 study conducted by the Los Angeles Times, the Academy’s nearly 6,000 members are 94 percent Caucasian and 77 percent male. Though the median age is 62, 86 percent of Academy voters are 50 or older. Also, members are typically appointed for life, which means that this disparity won’t be corrected any time soon without a radical change in the Academy’s policies. And as if all that wasn’t bad enough, it turns out that among the Academy’s 43-person board of governors, Isaacs is one of just six women and the only person of color.
Film scholar Tom Nunan recently remarked that, “There is the sense that [the Academy] paid their dues last year when ’12 Years a Slave’ won this. They now feel ok about choosing the subject matter that suits them, usually period pieces featuring white British men.”
In light of the numerous nominations heaped upon admittedly excellent films like “The Imitation Game,” “The Theory of Everything” and “Mr. Turner,” I have trouble discounting Nunan’s notion.
It seems clear that the Academy is not interested in leveraging its clout to champion diversity or otherwise work towards equality in Hollywood. Call me a cynic, but I view Academy moves like electing Isaacs, lauding “12 Years a Slave” and nominating “Selma” for best picture as half-empty gestures. The Academy’s interest in diversity appears to extend only as far as its most vocal critics dictate.
The Academy Awards are much more than just an excuse for Hollywood at large to dress up and celebrate itself. These accolades often play a crucial role in the subsequent career prospects of filmmakers and performers alike, with winners regularly ending up awash in lucrative, high-profile opportunities while losers — or worse yet, non-nominees — often struggle to secure their next projects.
The Oscars also resonate at box offices across the country, creating significant windfalls for award-winning works. Profitable films direct the industry, which follows the almighty dollar wherever it leads. So if the Academy cannot appreciate DuVernay and Oyelowo’s achievements, perhaps audiences can.
However, if the Academy sees no harm in validating white voices first and foremost, I fear that films like “Selma” may fall by Hollywood’s wayside. My hope is that, under Isaacs’ leadership, the Academy will someday be able to set a new, more inclusive standard for the film industry, but I won’t hold my breath just yet.
Both “Selma” and its semi-snub at the hands of the Academy send the same message: American equality has come a long way, but our journey forward is far from over.
