As a professional writer, a crucial part of my job is analyzing other people’s writing in order to make fun of it and feel superior. And by far the worst writing inflicted on the largest audience each year is the Academy Award acceptance speech. So on behalf of Oscar viewers everywhere, I offered my punch-up services for free to several of the nominees this time. All of them turned me down. Their main concern seemed to be revealing their speeches in advance to a journalist. They must be aware of the making-fun part of our job.
But Anna Behlmer, a nominee for sound mixing for her work on Star Trek, agreed to hear my suggestions. For those of you who don’t know what a sound mixer does: she mixes sound. I met Anna four years ago, when I attempted to prove that fashion publicity had gotten so out of control that even a sound mixer could get a designer to lend her a dress for the Oscars. A $2,650 Escada dress, a $1,195 black Swarovski-crystal purse and a $45,000 Erica Courtney diamond bracelet later, I had proved that I am the gayest investigative journalist in the world.
(See pictures of the best Oscar dresses.)
We met at a restaurant on Sunday, and I listened to what she had prepared. “I’d like to thank the Academy for making history tonight. I’m the first woman …” This would be a good way to start the speech if this were 1976, and she had been elected President of the United States. Then Anna went on to thank the director, the studio and some other people I cared about only slightly more than sound mixers.
Luckily, Anna’s delivery was excited and earnest, so I had a lot to work with. Plus, she wanted her speech to be fun: “I’m not going to be like the guys. They’re so serious. I actually care. I’m not going to walk up there with a piece of paper like those idiots. And I timed it so it’s 45 seconds. I don’t want to be embarrassed.” I nodded as if I weren’t completely ignoring her last sentence.
I suggested opening her speech by saying she understands that members of the Oscar audience don’t want to hear from a sound mixer because they’re only interested in the fame and glamour of sound editors. Anna flinched at that idea because apparently the relationship between sound mixers and editors is a little tense. So I suggested coming up with a list of people she wasn’t going to thank, including the stars and director, since they would never thank the sound mixer. Anna said she’d like to avoid antagonizing J.J. Abrams, the powerful director of Star Trek. But she at least agreed to cut her list down so she was thanking only Abrams and to admit in the speech that she’s doing it only so he’ll hire her for Mission: Impossible 4.
(See pictures of J.J. Abram’s career.)
She was also a little cautious since she was one of three sound mixers nominated for Star Trek, and her speech had to represent them while they stood behind her wielding heavy metal statues. I was starting to understand that my goal for the speech — to be an attention-seeking jerk in front of millions of people — was different from that of most Oscar winners, who have complicated agendas they need to get across in 45 seconds. The only time I accomplished something this difficult in 45 seconds was in high school, and I had intended to make it last much longer.
(See pictures of Star Trek‘s greatest villains.)
For Anna, who has been nominated nine previous times and has never won, an Oscar would prove a lot, and she wanted people to know that. “I feel like if I do this, I can retire at any time I want,” she tells me. Six years ago, when she was nominated for both Seabiscuit and The Last Samurai and still lost, she got so frustrated, she decided to run a marathon. “I kept thinking: I’m sick of not being in control, and it’s so random. I want to be in control of something,” she says. It was then that I realized that someone should have suggested marathon running to George W. Bush after 9/11.
Understanding how much more important this moment would be than just an opportunity to entertain people for 45 seconds, we were able to come up with a speech that is honest and still fun. If she wins, Anna — who is 5 ft. 2 in. — is going to remove her four-inch heels to run to the podium, then put the shoes back on. Then she’ll warn the booth to bleep her in five seconds, when she’ll mouth an expletive between “This is” and “great.” Then she’ll make fun of one of her co-winners for not showing enough excitement onstage, since he’s British. And when the guy in the booth starts to play music to drown her out, she’ll call him out by name and union local number and tell him he can’t do this to a fellow sound mixer. Then, even though I told her not to about 20 times, I’m pretty sure she’ll thank me.
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