Another Academy Awards has come and gone—so what did you think?

While it was the lowest rated Oscar telecast in history, I found it strangely satisfying. No one went too overboard on any politically-motivated pet cause, things that were addressed re: women in the business seemed to be addressed with appropriate seriousness and occasional good humor—not, actually, an easy thing to accomplish.

Most of all, though, I loved the clips that were shown before the acting nominees. To see the brief moments of great actors in the parts that won them an award was terrific. It just reminded me of the incredibly rich history of cinema, of all the moments of joy and sorrow, despair and triumph that movies have dramatized. And will continue to dramatize!

I was disappointed that Greta Gerwig didn’t win for Best Original Screenplay because, in my mind, it was the best. To tell a simple story and make it different at every turn is a true gift. I look forward to seeing what she has to come.

Best win for me was Frances McDormand winning the Oscar for Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. It was a great part, to be sure. And she made it even greater with a brilliant performance. I appreciate actors who don’t show off—who just let the character, well, almost speak through them, if you will. And that’s the feeling I get when watching her. She couldn’t have been a more different character than the one she played in Fargo, her other Academy Award-winning role.

In Fargo McDormand played a down-to-earth, sometimes almost naïve sheriff, Margie, in northern Minnesota—complete with a superb Minnesota-specific accent. She’s smart, though—it’s just that her intelligence is also accompanied by a bit of small town naïveté, which makes her character all the more charming. And there’s a wonderful softness to her performance, as if she’s captured this woman’s intelligence in a bowl of Jello, and in order to get to the smarts, we have to accept the brightly-colored, wiggly Jello.

So to see her in Three Billboards is to see, virtually, another person. Mildred is a woman who is keeping a tight lid on her anger—has been for a year—when that anger explodes on the billboards outside her hometown of Ebbing. She’s also wily, with the ability to do as she likes and lie about it to your face when it suits her.

But we get to see her at her most vulnerable moments, too. We get to see her lamenting the loss of her daughter and we get to see her befriending people that others in town won’t.

And most of all we get to see her change her mind about people. We get to see her realize that no one is all one thing—that her nemesis, in fact, can become her friend given the right set of circumstances.

I wish Three Billboards could have taken the top prize—don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of Shape of Water and thought it told a beautiful story, but Three Billboards did something more difficult—it showed me a woman who was strong and vulnerable and whose character isn’t one I’ll forget in a long time. And that’s what good writing should do.

Copyright © Diane Lake

11Mar18

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