While there seems to be a premium on being hyper-sensitive toward offending others in the present climate of Hollywood, Amy Poehler and Maya Rudolph seemed incapable of offering any empathy for the already if not maligned, then totally neglected screenwriter. The two joined forces to present the awards for both Best Supporting Actor (they had plenty of snark for this category as well), and Best Screenplay, the latter category of which found Rudolph making a big production about proposing to Poehler, who light-heartedly cautioned, “I cannot believe you’re doing this! Are we stealing focus away from the next award?” Rudolph balked, “Don’t worry, it’s just Best Screenplay.”
While the strange moment might have been lost on those not geekish enough to keep up with awards ceremony lore, the two were clearly spoofing director Glenn Weiss (primarily known for directing several Academy Awards and Tony Awards) from last year’s Emmy Awards when he seized the moment of his acceptance speech for Outstanding Directing for a Variety Series to propose to his longtime girlfriend Jan Svendsen.
Rudolph, what’s more, seemed to be making a statement on what should now feel like the commonplace nature of same sex marriages–or at least, the commonplace nature of women settling for one of their best friends because every man is physically and spiritually disgusting. Regardless, what’s even more disgusting is the continued hardy-har-har approach to mocking how undervalued writers are. And not just screenwriters, of course (at least they can make six figures from their work when they’re part of the elite few), but all writers. John Lennon said, “Woman is the nigger of the world.” But na, it’s writers.
In their attempt to “audition” to host the Academy Awards, Poehler and Rudolph figured this would be the category to most effortlessly poke fun at without incurring any sort of ire from this particular “sect” of Hollywood seemed to prove correct when, after announcing Green Book writers Nick Vallelonga, Brian Currie and Peter Farrelly (yes, that Peter Farrelly) as the recipients of the award, Vallelonga joked about how long it took them to reach the stage, “We’re the writers. We were sitting in the kitchen.”
With accepted “second class citizen” status such as this, it doesn’t look as though writers will advance their (lack of) perception much in 2019–unless, perhaps, Michelle Obama or Oprah decide to co-write the adaptation of Becoming. On the plus side, it leaves plenty more opportunity for the satirical, contempt-filled meta genre that is “the screenwriter movie” (e.g. Adaptation, Sunset Boulevard, Barton Fink, Paris When It Sizzles, etc.) to thrive.
And as long as things remain as Joe Gillis said long ago–“Audiences don’t know somebody sits down and writes a picture. They think the actors make it up as they go along”–the screenwriter will forever serve as the easy punchline.
