*This is the first installment of “The Long Shot,” a new weekly Oscar column from Guy Lodge here at In Contention.
At some point last week, I snapped at a commenter for rather benignly suggesting that, with the clarity granted certain contenders by the festival season, we could now call 7 of the newly expanded 10 Best Picture slots securely filled in mid-September, thus leaving us a full four months to find another three.
Going by that rationale, less than one new contender a month could emerge — roughly keeping pace with the film-going habits of many Academy members.
It was a fair enough theory, I suppose, and I shouldn’t have responded with as much snark as I did — though I will always adhere to the no-fun theory that a film cannot be decreed a “lock” before it is seen.
(Is “Invictus” a “Million Dollar Baby” or a “Space Cowboys” waiting to happen? Can “Nine” possibly match its ostentatious pedigree? What in the name of God is “Avatar?” Such are the tensions that make the season worth following.)
But I think the main reason the theory got on my nerves had nothing whatsoever to do with the commenter’s reasoning, and everything to do with the dispiriting possibility of it actually being true. Because if all the much-ballyhooed widening of the Best Picture category amounts to is a catch-all solution to ensure that every frontrunner gets its due — thereby handily making the Oscars more predictable and less particular into the bargain — then I’ll regretfully turn my back on the annual institution that has fascinated me since the second grade, move to Paris and track the Cesars instead.
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