Donald Trump doesn't like Hollywood and, in case anyone was wondering, the feeling is mutual. Nothing new here. Perhaps the novelty lies in the intensity of the statement, whether of disdain, hatred, or simply resistance to an agenda, that of the new president and his followers, which denies everything that the film industry in particular and perhaps art in general boast about. The Oscar nominations announced yesterday left little room for doubt. Early in the morning, comedians Rachel Sennott and Bowen Yang read out each nomination one by one, from Emilia Pérez, Jacques Audiard's film that garnered 13 chances for a statuette, to The Apprentice (a brutal parody of Trump's formative years), which received two, things were made clear. Crystal clear. Rarely have the candidates appeared so diverse, inclusive, queer, and female (despite the endemic scarcity of female directors: only Coralie Fargeat, for La sustancia, made the cut)...
The morning's main protagonist (almost dawn) was, to the probable dismay of J.K. Rowling, Karla Sofía Gascón. The Spanish actress from Alcobendas, the same Alcobendas as Penélope Cruz, not only became the first trans actress to win at Cannes, but she is now on track to achieve the same feat on the most visible and global stage imaginable. For now, she is the first trans woman to be nominated. When she won at La Croisette, the French far-right came out in force. And now even more so. She is Manitas and Emilia Pérez. She is the most surprising actress of the year without a shadow of a doubt.
Jacques Audiard and 'Emilia Pérez', the phenomenon of the year: "I don't care if the biggest idiots call me 'woke'"
The Apprentice. Trump's story, the disappointing solemnity of evil (**)
Her competitors in the category, one by one, also do not fall short in their anti-Trump stance. Or simply decent. Demi Moore revisits her own mythology in La sustancia, a film directed by Coralie Fargeat that exposes the obsession with youth turned into slavery in the case of women. Cynthia Erivo turns her work in Wicked into a superb fable about the simplifying and even abusive power of fake news. The wicked witch is the other. Mikey Madison turns her performance in Anora as a sex worker into a space of freedom and advocacy. And Fernanda Torres (Aún estoy aquí) reminds us of the atrocities of the Brazilian dictatorship that Trump's friend Bolsonaro justifies. And so on.
'The Brutalist' responds with its ode to immigration to the thousands of soldiers announced for the southern border.
To make the Academy's enthusiasm in response clear, it is worth noting that the excessive narcomusical set in Mexico fell just one nomination short of joining the select group that includes Titanic, All About Eve, and La La Land. What is already headline news is that we are facing the first international production (in this case French) to reach such heights. Whether one likes it or not, there is no choice but to interpret the list of nominees we learned about yesterday as a message. What kind of message? That depends on each individual: a call to resistance, a response, stubbornness, shame even... Whatever happens, the bold, excessive, and irresistible proposal of the French film is there with nominations for best picture, direction, its two actresses (Karla alongside Zoe Saldaña), cinematography, editing... and even two of its songs for controversy (El mal and Mi camino) and, if necessary, insurrection. It excites some (clearly) with the same force that it angers part of Mexico, the pure soul of the queer movement, and above all, the entire right wing, whether dressed as radical, moderate, or semi-retired. It's strange. In less than six months since its release, Emilia Pérez has gone from being the target of that more or less numerous, more or less conscious group of transphobes that includes transphobes with membership cards and even those who do not declare it (historical feminists, for example), to becoming almost an open wound for the geometrically opposite extreme. No matter how one looks at it, Karla Sofía Gascón and her Emilia Pérez have come to change the world. Although the latter may be somewhat exaggerated.
Karla Sofía Gascón, Zoe Saldaña, and Selena Gomez star in 'Emilia Pérez'.Etienne LAURENT / AFP
The next two films with the most nominations - both with 10 - are The Brutalist, by Brady Corbet, and Wicked, by Jon M Chu, and both are there for a similar purpose as the first. The story of the architect who emigrates to the United States fleeing the Holocaust is, in order: a) an ode to immigration as the true nature of the United States, b) a vindication of modern art against the aesthetic and historicist neocorservatism that pervades everything today, and c) a daring proposal against any form of conservatism (once again) from the most mainstream Hollywood. More fuel to the fire. Wicked is not quite like that, but at its core, as mentioned, it is a musical that debates the excess of simplicity when separating the good and pure from the bad and mixed-race. And so on. It could be said that the thousands of soldiers Trump plans for the border are exactly the opposite of many things, including each of the highly ranked nominated films together or separately.
'Cónclave' surpasses by far the sermon of the bishop that the president had to listen to with such displeasure.
A step down, the argumentative line does not wane. A Complete Unknown, by James Mangold with eight nominations, adheres to the basic characteristics of prestigious production that has long set the pace in the American industry in general and at the Oscars in particular. But Bob Dylan's life (or, better said, the part of his existence that turned him into a legend) is exactly that: the life of a man who sang against Vietnam and against Nixon. And indeed, the film is, among other things, a beautiful excuse for a virtuoso journey back in time, to a time of revolution and protest that definitely has nothing to do with the present. It is, in fact, quite the opposite.
Another matter is the essence of Cónclave, also nominated eight times. Suddenly, the election of the pope of Rome gives rise to a thriller with an extremely disruptive underlying message that surpasses by far the sermon of Episcopal bishop Mariann Edgar Budde that Trump had to listen to with such displeasure on the day of his coronation. From Anora, the Cannes Palme d'Or winner nominated six times, more of the same. What Baker does in his prodigious film is a desperate comedy as well as a furious and very lucid reading without victimization or melodramatic tricks of the underworld of issues such as sexism, prostitution, and the obscenity of oligarchies. Not a stitch out of place.
But the antiloquepasa virulence does not end there. Alongside those already mentioned, among the nominees in the most important category, best picture, are Dune: Part 2, by Denis Villeneuve, the aforementioned Aún estoy aquí, by Walter Salles, Nickel Boys, by RaMell Ross, and, as mentioned, La sustancia, by Coralie Fargeat.
Just note that the first one is an ecological fable against capitalist exploitation of resources, the second continues to be a plea against the brutality of the Brazilian fascist dictatorship, the third is a masterful and surprising adaptation (all in the first person, in a subjective plane) of Colson Whitehead's evidently anti-racist novel, and the last one is feminist up to the glorious final scene. Can anyone top that?
Well, someone can top that. Just look at the main actors and beyond the enormous performances of Brody, Chalamet, and Fiennes, you will find the no less outstanding efforts of Colman Domingo in the prison drama Sing Sing, by Greg Kwedar, with the flag of the only black candidate and, pay attention, Sebastian Stan in the role of, once again, Donald Trump. Yes, it had to be him. The magnate's youth years allow for a deranged and ruthless portrayal in The Apprentice, by Ali Abbasi. Definitely, the Trump era begins with the most anti-Trumpist Oscars imaginable.