Bottom line, since the late 1960's/early 1970's, comedy hasn't pulled much weight at the Oscars. The good ones get a nomination here and there, but they're nominated in the same spirit Meryl Streep gets nominations; why award great work when you can declare it not great enough?
I know this shit doesn't matter. Hitchcock never won an Oscar other than the old "You're About to Die, so Here's Something So We Can Say We Honored Ya Before You Keel" Award. Three Six Mafia and Martin Scorsese are tied for number of Oscars won. Sandra Bullock has won more acting awards than Matt Damon. Signs and wonders. It's High School Prom Drama, and yet its sheer scope lends a certain air of importance. Something so big must be important, right?
So then, why does it still hurt that In the Loop lost to Precious for Best Adapted Screenplay? Or that a jury of celebrity peers thought American Beauty funnier and more original than Being John Malkovich? And why, For The Love of God, did the casts/crews of The Big Lebowski, Shaun of the Dead, and Hot Fuzz receive ZERO love at Oscars '99, '05, and '08, respectively? Not even a handjob, man. Nothing.
Same thing will happen, is happening, with the films produced under the Apatow regime. Judd Apatow gets a lot of shit. Some of it is well deserved (got my eyes on you, Drillbit Taylor and You Don't Mess With the Zohan), but the fact remains that his is the most reliable brand of comedy since the Reitman/Ramis days of the 1980s. Heck, were I a mite more audacious, I might could say Apatow has bested that earlier period, but I don't want to fly off the handle or anything. The reason folks get so mad when he misfires (I'd rate that at once every three films) is that he's set the bar so high, so many times.
Thanks to Apatow, we've had (and this is just off the top of my head) The Ben Stiller Show, Heavyweights, The Cable Guy, Freaks and Geeks, Undeclared, Anchorman, The 40 Year-Old Virgin, Zero Effect, Talledega Nights, Superbad, Knocked Up, Walk Hard, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Step Brothers, Funny People, Get Him to The Greek, and some of the best episodes of The Critic and The Larry Sanders Show. This is a guy who respects comedy, plain and simple, and while others might favor the less populist stylings of The Lonely Planet or The State alums, Apatow reminds me of a smuttier Billy Wilder, and that is a very good thing, indeed.
Now, I figure when he's fucking a hundred and riddled with tumors, they'll wheel him out for a Lifetime Achievement Award. Least they can do. That doesn't mean, however, that in ten-plus years the Oscars have not missed the boat many, many times. By my count, here are the nominations (if not awards. I'm trying to be realistic) that should've gone Team Apatow's way.
1) Adam Sandler for Funny People. A perfect performance. Sandler is magnetic here, as funny and angry and subtle and heartbreaking as anyone who's ever won an Oscar. I can't blame people for not liking the film; it is, by no means, as consistently good as its star. The opening ninety minutes, a cynical and brutally funny study of celebrity that I'd mention in the same breath as Sunset Boulevard, give way to a self-indulgent last act over-stuffed with pat psychological insight that all-but drains the humor from the film. A little more script polishing, a little less Leslie Mann, and we'd be looking at Apatow's Annie Hall instead of his Celebrity. Even with the movie's faults, Sandler never falters. His George Simmonds should be mentioned in the same breath as Olivier's Archie Rice.
2) John C. Reilly for Walk Hard. Here's the genius of Walk Hard, the most underrated film of Apatow's career: Reilly doesn't just lampoon, with idiot grace and dignity, all the conventions of the modern musician biopic--tearing his clothes off and flipping over cars; methodically bending all his forks out of shape in a drug/depression fueled rage; loudly exclaiming "This is a dark fucking period" during the downslide portion of Dewey Cox's life--but he sells the reality of all this nonsense. Reilly is as committed and believable as Joaquin Phoenix is in Walk the Line that you begin to realize he'd be an even better choice to play Johnny Cash! His performance straddles that fine line between parody and imitation so deftly that the only reason you don't forget you're not watching a drama is because you're laughing so hard.
3) James Franco for Pineapple Express. Another case of "Great Performance, Flawed Movie" Syndrome. I wish I liked the film more. It's well made, well written, and very funny at times. The pacing of the film is so damn lethargic, though, and it is far more content to emulate all the '80s action movie tropes that inspired it rather than to mock them. Compare against Hot Fuzz, which functions as both a brilliant action movie parody and a damn good shoot-em-up in its own right, and Pineapple Express feels like an even bigger letdown. I've got no criticism of Franco's Saul Silver, though. It's such a canny performance--there's such a wonderful mix of stoner stereotyping and keenly observed human behavior on display. You feel the comedy informing the humanity, and vice versa. It's the best work Franco has ever done. This is what happens when one applies the Method approach to comedy. If only Apatow would pair up with Daniel Day-Lewis...
4) Jonah Hill for Superbad. I think it was The New Yorker that praised Hill's work here as being akin to early Richard Pryor standup, and the comparison is so apt. Rage powers the best of Pryor, and that same terrible anger fuels Hill in the film. He's mad at being fat, mad at being smarter than anybody at his school, mad at being so lonely. This could easily be the stuff of high school tragedy, and in some ways, it is in the finished film (Hill's longing "last glance" at best friend Michael Cera is painful to watch), but like Pryor, Hill mines all his hurt and anger at being alive into comedy gold. Probably the funniest and most dangerous film in Apatow's oeuvre. Thank Jonah Hill for that.
5) Paul Rudd for Anchorman. Picking a favorite performance in Anchorman is like trying to pick a favorite non-Zeppo Marx Brother. That's not surprising, considering the film is the best Marx Brothers Movie Never Made. My money has to go with Rudd's "Action News Field Reporter" Brian Fantana. Reason 1--Surprise factor of the part. As funny as he was in Wet Hot American Summer, the film's fairly limited (but rabid) cult following limited its, and Rudd's, exposure to most of the free world. Anchorman, therefore, was Rudd's Red Carpet Comedic Coming-Out Party, the film that announced to the universe, "You'll Believe a Handsome Man Will Make You Cry Laughing." It's a full-scale, full-length comic performance, designed to cover Rudd's whole spectrum of humor--Look! He can do subtle! Now he's going broad! Here's some goofy wordplay! But wait! That looks like perfect physical comedy!--and it surprised a lot of folks (myself included) who pigeonholed him as the pre-McDreamy McDreamy. Reason 2--He enriches repeat viewings of the film all on his own. Anchorman is one of the most rewatchable comedies ever made. It probably would be even without Rudd, but he elevates future viewings in a very special way. You can have a complete movie experience just by watching him. Even if he's not the focus of the scene, he's always busy, always working some little bit of business in the background, and it's always hysterical. Mind you, he's not trying to upstage the main action--I saw the movie maybe twenty times before I realized this--he's just weaving in humor on an almost subliminal level. In this regard, the whole film takes on the texture of a Mad Magazine spread. Not many films can successfully claim that. Then again, not enough cast Paul Rudd.
That's what I've got. Disagree with me, agree, I could give a fuck. I've got Freaks and Geeks to watch.
