The Oscars felt political and insufferable, but more than that they were bafflingly stupid — a long evening of self-righteous posturing, bad jokes, and odd choices that left viewers wondering why the industry still expects applause for spectacle that no longer connects.
The show billed itself as a grand celebration of film, but it played more like an awkward lecture series with too many commercial breaks. The films honored this year leaned toward art-house obscurity rather than mass appeal, and that disconnect set the tone for a night that struggled to feel relevant. Audiences could sense the gulf between Hollywood’s sense of importance and the public’s waning interest.
Expanding Best Picture to more nominees was supposed to broaden appeal, yet the slate included films most viewers would not seek out voluntarily. Viewers were presented with tales of an Idaho logger from the early 1900s, a long Brazilian drama in Portuguese, and a conspiracy thriller about men who kidnap a CEO they think is an alien. The overall effect was a lineup that inspired a collective shrug more than excitement.
Conan O’Brien, tapped to host, started with a promise that felt like a pact he’d already handed to the audience: avoid politics. That pledge evaporated early. Not long into his set, O’Brien said, “I should warn you, tonight could get political. And if that makes you uncomfortable, there’s an alternate Oscars hosted by Kid Rock at the Dave & Busters down the street.” His material quickly slid from mildly edgy into mean-spirited and flat.
“It’s the first time since 2012,” Conan continued, “that there are no British actors nominated for best actor or best actress. A British spokesperson said, ‘Yeah, but at least we arrest our pedophiles.'” The line landed amid uncomfortable laughter, exposing how easily the ceremony trades on shock value rather than wit. When Hollywood lectures other cultures on morality, their own controversies make those admonitions ring hollow.
Political signaling was everywhere, often with little self-awareness. Javier Bardem took the stage and declared, “No to war, and free Palestine,” earning loud applause from the room. The reaction underscored how audiences in that setting reward simple slogans even when the real-world complexities are ignored. The applause felt more performative than persuasive.
There was also the odd theater of fashion-as-message, where clothing became a stand-in for actual action. Observers praised Bardem’s lapel as if it were the moral equivalent of policy, though symbols on jackets do not change outcomes. The recurring presence of recycled anti-war emblems felt especially undercutting given the persistence of conflict worldwide.
Censorship became a recurring topic, which is ironic considering the platform from which it was being pronounced. Lectures on limited expression sounded strained when delivered by a group accustomed to global reach and selective platforming. The evening undercut its own arguments when a winner’s microphone was lowered mid-speech to keep runtimes down, an awkward visual of the very control they decry.
Jimmy Kimmel joined the cast of commentators and leaned into the same habit of mixing culture-baiting with political jabs. Introducing the documentary category, he quipped about countries that silence their citizens and added CBS to the list, aiming for laughs. His routine slid into personal gripes about the president, which only reinforced the sense that the show had become another venue for celebrity grievances rather than a night celebrating craft.
The most glaring disconnect was the contrast between preachy speeches and the films being celebrated. The academy denounced violence and gun culture in broad strokes while lauding a movie that revels in violent imagery. Winning director Paul Thomas Anderson said he made the film “for his children,” a dedication that registered as unsettling given the movie’s explicit content. The tension between message and medium was impossible to ignore.
The production itself seemed intent on proving that spectacle still matters, even as viewership slips. Attempts to tighten runtime failed, speeches were cut, and the show ran over its scheduled slot, all while the crowd clapped for simple gestures rather than deep arguments. The mismatch between Hollywood’s earnestness and actual influence left the broadcast feeling both self-important and out of touch.
Ultimately the night showcased an industry comfortable with its own rituals and eager to broadcast moral certainty, even when its choices undercut the sermon. The Oscars remain an elaborate ritual, but one increasingly disconnected from the tastes and concerns of a broader audience. That friction made the whole affair come off less as a noble tradition and more as a curious exercise in collective obliviousness.
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