Oscars

I don’t hate Green Book.

I want to lead with that, because over the next few days, weeks, and maybe decades, you’re going to be hearing a lot about how bad Green Book is, and how the members of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences made a dreadful error when they awarded it the Oscar for Best Picture. I’m by no means a fan of the film, but I also don’t think that it’s completely irredeemable. (When I ranked every movie that I watched in 2018, it came in at #113 out of 135, but you could bump it as high as #70 and I wouldn’t put up a huge fight.) It’s very well-acted, it’s paced appropriately, its production values are impressive, and—if you can set aside its regressive politics and simplistic themes—it’s largely enjoyable. I’ve seen worse.

But “I’ve seen worse” is not exactly the type of ringing endorsement that should greet the Best Picture winner at the Oscars. And Green Book, as superficially pleasing as it can be, is not a very good movie. (Regrettably, I never formally reviewed it, though I did register my thoughts on Twitter.) Its screenplay is clunky and predictable, while its message—essentially a childish plea of “Can’t we all just get along?”—is hopelessly crude. Instead of grappling with the complexity and causticity of American race relations, it peddles a fairy tale of white decency and mutual growth. It is sappy, trite, and self-congratulatory. It does not resemble anything close to the best movie of the year. Read More