The first Oscar speech I remember watching was Richard Attenborough, accepting the awards for Gandhi (1982). All he seemed to do, I recall, was to thank a whole list of people “without whom” et cetera, et cetera. And that, alas, has become the norm.
Almost every time a film personality I truly admire – Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Anthony Hopkins, whoever – has won an Oscar, and I’ve said to myself, “Wow, I’d love to hear what he has to say about it,” all I’ve been treated to is a disjointed paean to the contribution of their mothers/ school-teachers/ directors/ hair-dressers/ miscellaneous benefactors and well-wishers. (Somebody, in fact, even thanked his parents for having him, and his grandparents for having them). It has now, in fact, become impossible to hear any Oscar speech without this pious thanks-giving – which has become the great cliché of the Oscars ceremony.
But this year it’s going to be different, thank God. Because the Oscar organisers have finally admitted that the millions who watch the Oscars event around the world are bored stiff of all this mindless thanks-giving. And so, at last, they’ve changed the rules.
As a result from this year, there will be no more thanks-giving. Instead, the Oscar winners will have get down to the business of making a proper speech that will inspire, entertain, enlighten, move or otherwise engage the audience – while any thanks that need to be given will be simply scrolled across the screen.
This is a good opportunity, therefore, to look back on the history of the Oscar speeches – the good, the bad, and the bizarre.
The longest speech in Oscar history was nearly six minutes long, by Greer Garson in 1943, when she won the Best Actress award for Mrs Miniver. The only one that has come close in recent times was Gwyneth Paltrow’s rambling, weepy two-and-a-half-minute speech, in which she thanked 23 of her friends, her family members, her colleagues, and the company that produced Shakespeare in Love (1998).
To prevent a repetition of this, the Oscar’s organisers imposed a 45-second time limit: now, after 45 seconds, the music begins to play (hint, hint), and ultimately the mike simply switches off.
The shortest speech, on the other hand, was by Patty Duke, who won the Best Supporting Actress award for The Miracle Worker in 1962: she simply said two words, “Thank you,” and walked off the stage. She broke the record of William Holden who, when he won the Best Actor award for Stalag 17 in 1954, had said, “Thank you. Thank you.” There was also, of course, Alfred Hitchcock who, when he received his Lifetime Achievement award in 1968, said “Thank you” – and then, after a moment of typical Hitchcockian suspense, added “Very much indeed”.
But Marlee Matlin’s speech – probably the most moving that I can recall – was, in a sense, even shorter: it had no words, for she was hearing impaired, and made her speech entirely in sign language, when she won the Best Actress award for Children of a Lesser God (1986).
So which was the worst speech of all?
There have, of course, been lots of contenders over the years. Gwyneth Paltrow was pretty embarrassing. And so was Melissa Leo, who won the Best Supporting Actress award for The Fighter (2010). She began her speech by saying, “Wow! Really, really, really truly wow….” and then went steadily downhill from there, even gasping out the ‘F’ word (probably for the first time in an Oscar show) in her befuddlement.
Roberto Benigni was cringe-worthy, too, when he won the Best Foreign Language Film award for Life Is Beautiful (1997): when his award was announced he clambered manically over the seats (and over various celebrities’ shoulders) on his way up to the stage. He then proceeded to be goofy and incoherent until his 45 seconds was up, and he was finally put out of his misery.
Jennifer Lawrence managed to fall head over heels on her way to the stage when she won the Best Actress award for Silver Linings Playbook (2012). She then picked herself up clumsily and uttered the immortal words, "You guys are all just standing because I fell. And that's really embarrassing". (Yes, it was really embarrassing, though not for the reason she thought.)
But possibly the worst speech – in recent history, anyway – was James Cameron’s, when he won the Best Director award for Titanic (1997): he came through as being bratty and obnoxious, ending up by shouting, “I am the KING OF THE WORLD! WOO-WOO-WOO!” Even the fact that his film had won 11 Oscars, the highest tally of all time (tying with Ben Hur in 1959) didn’t excuse his obnoxiousness.
And then there have been the great speeches.
One of the best was Meryl Streep’s, when she won the Best Actress award for The Iron Lady in 2012: she was charming, self-deprecating, gracious and funny, all at the same time, starting out by saying, “When I heard my name being called out I could hear half of America saying, ‘Oh no, not her … again.”
Tom Hanks, when he won the Best Actor award for Philadephia (1993), made a masterly speech – eloquent, passionate, thought-provoking and inspiring. In continuance of the film’s gay theme, he publicly honoured two gay men, without whom, he said, he wouldn’t be standing there: his drama teacher, Rawley Farnsworthy, and classmate, John Gilkerson, whose influence he came under while still in school. It was extremely moving (but also, unfortunately, slightly embarrassing, because it later turned out that his drama teacher had not, until then, revealed to the world that he was gay).
One of the simplest, but most inspiring speeches, however, was Mathew McConaughey’s, when he won the Best Actor award for Dallas Buyers’ Club (2013). He said that one thing he had learned, early on, is that there are three things one needs in life: someone to look up to; someone to look forward to; and someone to chase – in other words, your own personal role model. It took him a long time, he said, to understand that the person he needed to chase was himself, ten years from now. He was constantly chasing that person, he said but, by definition, would never ever catch up with him. Which, of course, is a wonderful philosophy of life, very succinctly presented.
There have also some been wonderful cameo performances to remember. Like David Niven, who was co-hosting the Oscars in 1974: when a streaker suddenly ran naked across the stage, Niven, with his legendary comic timing, paused and said, deadpan, “Isn’t it fascinating that probably the only laugh that man will ever get in his life is by stripping off and showing his shortcomings?”
Other speeches have been memorable for other reasons. Like 70-year old tough guy actor, Jack Palance, who, when he won the Best Supporting Actor award for City Slickers in 1991, went up on stage and did an impressive set of one-handed push-ups, just to prove to Hollywood executives that it’s a mistake not to an cast older actor for fear that he might suddenly die half-way through the film’s shooting.
Then, of course, there was Marlon Brando, whose Oscar non-speech for The Godfather in 1973 was probably the most controversial of all time: he, typically, refused to attend the ceremony and, instead, sent a Native American activist in his place to make a speech condemning the treatment of the Native American people.
Almost as notorious was Michael Moore who, when he won his award for Bowling For Columbine (2002), used the opportunity to make a speech attacking President George W Bush for his policies. The audience reacted with boos – as well as, predictably, many cheers.
All this brings me back to Richard Attenborough. While accepting one of his awards for Gandhi (which had swept the Oscars that year), Attenorough broke down and began to sob. It was the first time I had seen something like this happen, and I talked to one of the people who had been in the film, and knew Attenborough well. Did Attenborough really feel so passionately about it all, I asked? Or were the tears for theatrical effect?
No, no, he replied, Gandhi was Richard’s life’s work, and he felt extremely passionately about it. Then he stopped and grinned, “But you must also realise that, at the end of the day, he is an actor.”
