Leonardo DiCaprio Didn't Win An Oscar...And That's Okay

Last night something happened that has happened every other single day in history: Leonardo DiCaprio did not win an Oscar.

This has become a bit of a joke amongst movie fans. Despite being one of the most recognizable stars of the screen, DiCaprio has never won an Oscar, and some people (including me) find this particularly hilarious. The thing is that he clearly wants it so badly. He continuously takes on what people refer to as “Oscary” roles, and every year, it feels like there are several projects that have Oscar buzz for Leo, only for him to be left out in the cold come Oscar night. Many jokes have been made. They are all funny.

 

But with the jokes, there is also a genuine consensus that DiCaprio is overdue. He is generally considered the #1 actor to have been snubbed by the Oscars. In reading predictions for this year’s awards—which is a thing I do in my spare time why do you ask doesn’t everybody?—I  saw one reason for why DiCaprio wouldn’t win listed over and over again: that “The Oscars just don’t like him.” And some argued that DiCaprio might “finally” win the award this year. Basically, DiCaprio is seen as an actor who is consistently overlooked time and time again by The Oscars—never getting recognized despite giving superior performances. Sure enough, after McConaughey won the Oscar, there was a wave of people saying that, once again, Leonardo DiCaprio was denied “his award.”

But why? Why have we singled out DiCaprio as forever being the Oscars anti-darling. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great actor, but I have always been confused as to why he’s treated as if this award is more elusive for him than for anyone else. So, I’d like to analyze why I think DiCaprio is really not all that hated by the Academy—at least not to deserve the reputation he has. And I shall pepper this post with multiple pictures of Leonardo DiCaprio looking sad because there are sooooooooo many.

So, so many.

First, let’s start with the Oscar race this year. Now, it’s no secret that I wasn’t a fan of The Wolf ofWall Street, and although DiCaprio gives a strong and committed performance, I think there were better choices to be nominated this year. But even if I loved his performance, there simply wasn’t a precedent for him to win this year. Matthew McConaughey won pretty much every other major award leading up to the Oscars (the exception being the BAFTA, where he wasn’t nominated—and that didn’t go to DiCaprio either, it went to Chiwetel Ejiofor). DiCaprio’s loss this year is not a slight—it was basically expected by everyone.

The fact that he was nominated at all should be a sign that the Oscars don’t hate Leonardo DiCaprio. He has been nominated five times. That’s not too shabby at all. And in such a competitive year, he beat out numerous other buzzed-about performances, including those of Tom Hanks, Forest Whitaker, and Robert Redford. Speaking of Robert Redford, he has been nominated for acting a total of one time in his entire career. And he’s considered a screen legend whose career has spanned considerably more years than DiCaprio. Yeah, DiCaprio hasn’t won yet, but he’s certainly been more recognized than most actors. Some may say, though, that DiCaprio has given consistently strong enough performances throughout the years and that sets him apart—but there are many consistent actors who have fared far worse. Gary Oldman, who it feels like has appeared in every film ever made, has been nominated exactly one time for his efforts. John Malkovich has been nominated twice. Neither has won. To be fair, these actors are not exactly playing the same roles as DiCaprio, but what about some of DiCaprio’s contemporaries? Matt Damon and Ethan Hawke are two tremendous actors who have given many fantastic performances, yet Damon has been nominated for his acting twice, and Hawke has been nominated once. And none of the actors I just mentioned have ever won either. DiCaprio has at least twice as many nominations than any of these actors. And it’s not cliché to say that it’s just an honor to be nominated—it really is. Those nominations are accolades in their own right. the point that I'm making is that DiCaprio might not be as decorated by the Academy as some think he should be, but there are other acclaimed actors who have, in fact, been given less recognition by the Academy.

By the way, Cary Grant—voted by the American Film Institute as the second greatest male movie star of all time, was only nominated for an Oscar twice in his entire career. If he had not been given an honorary Oscar at the end of his life, he would never have won at all.

Some might say, however, that the very fact that he has been nominated so many times and still hasn’t won is indication that the Oscars hate him—that he simply cannot win. But, take a look at DiCaprio’s Catch Me If You Can co-star Amy Adams. She has been nominated five times and never won. Not just that, but those five nominations have been awarded over the span of only eight years. That’s pretty incredible. Yet there is not the same feeling surrounding her that the Oscar keeps falling out of her grasp, as there is with DiCaprio. DiCaprio's Titanic co-star Kate Winslet-- who is perfect in pretty much everything-- didn't win the award until her fifth nomination. And then there’s Meryl Streep. Now, I’m not going to pretend that Streep is not an Oscar darling. After all, she has won an impressive three Oscars (one of only six actors in history to do so). But…she has been nominated eighteen times.  EIGHTEEN! That means she has not won five times more than she has won. And there was a gap of 29 years and twelve nominations between her second and third wins. If DiCaprio wins the Oscar on his next nomination (and considering how much the Academy likes to reward people because it’s “their time,” that’s pretty likely), he will have a better win to nomination ratio than Streep.

And, look at the actors who I have compared to DiCaprio. Notice one thing about them? They're all white. Only four black actors have won Best Actor in a Leading Role in the 86 years the Oscars have been around. That's fewer than the number of nominations DiCaprio has received. And Halle Berry remains the only black actress to have won Best Actress in a Leading Role. I don't want to go into this point too much right now, because it's part of a larger problem that many others have addressed in a much more eloquent way than I ever could, but I felt I had to bring it up.

But then there’s the argument that…it just really really really seems like Leo wants an Oscar. And that’s what makes it seem so elusive for him. But, I’ll let you in on a secret. EVERY ACTOR WANTS AN OSCAR! I mean, take the reigning “Best Actor,” Matthew McConaughey. A few years ago it would have been ridiculous for him to have ever hoped to be an Oscar nominee, let alone a winner, considering the films he was in. But then he started taking on more and more challenging and dramatic roles. Yeah, some of it might have been to further his reputation as an actual artist and prove his acting ability, but I’m sure the thought of an Oscar was in the back of his mind. This is the award that every actor dreams of—not just Leonardo DiCaprio. Of course, with DiCaprio, the sheer quantity of Oscar-baity movies he has been in is ridiculously huge. But, many of those films eventually kind of fizzled out, and any buzz they had faded. The Great Gatsby was at one point considered a Best Picture contender (until it was released). The same goes for DiCaprio-helmed films like J. Edgar and Shutter Island. Perhaps the best example of this, though, is Revolutionary Road, which gained just three nominations despite being heralded the Best Picture frontrunner a year before its release (again, buzz kind of faded as soon it was released. I wonder if this is coincidental or if there is some sort of link).

  

But, then there’s the list of performances that many people think DiCaprio should have been nominated for. In reading about how DiCaprio is constantly snubbed, people mention that it’s “outrageous” that he was not nominated for his work in films like Titanic, Catch Me If You Can, The Departed, J. Edgar, Shutter Island, Inception, and Django Unchained. An impressive lineup, but our memories are definitely distorted here. Let’s look at them one by one. Films like J. Edgar, and Shutter Island were incredibly disappointing and there was never any Oscar buzz surrounding DiCaprio. Titanic and Inception were critically acclaimed films, but certainly not for DiCaprio’s performances. I’m not saying that he’s bad in these, but they’re just not Oscar-worthy roles.  As for  Catch Me If You Can, which strikes me as DiCaprio’s most underrated performance (it’s such an incredible movie and he’s spot-on in it). But, again, it was not expected for him to get nominated here. For this film, he was only nominated for one major award—the Golden Globe, which is hardly the most esteemed of awards. That's hardly a precedent.

The only two non-nominations for Leo which I think can actually be described as “snubs,” are Django Unchained and The Departed. But, again, these were not major upsets. The fact that he wasn’t nominated for Django Unchained is probably considered the biggest snub against him. People bring this up all the time—“How could he not have been nominated for that movie?!” But…again, our memories have been distorted. I think many would be surprised to learn that DiCaprio was, again, only nominated for one major award for his performance in Django Unchained. And, again, that was the Golden Globe. DiCaprio was not snubbed for Django Unchained, he was actively not expected to get a nomination. Sure, there was some minor buzz, but it was as a dark horse, never as a serious contender.

Then there’s The Departed. This time, there was reason to believe that he might have been nominated, having been previously nominated for a BAFTA, a Critic’s Choice Award, and a SAG Award for this role. And also a Golden Globe. But while it was definitely possible for him to have been nominated, look at who was nominated that year. It was a tough year with five great performances being nominated—including DiCaprio’s The Departed co-star Mark Wahlberg. The only surprising nominee of the five was Jackie Earle Haley for Little Children, and even he had some precedent, having been nominated for a SAG Award and giving a truly incredible performance. And this same year, DiCaprio got a nomination in the Best Actor category for Blood Diamond, which might have influenced his lack of a nomination here. While it was a snub, it wasn’t really a major one. As you can see, the preconceived notion that DiCaprio is consistently passed over for a nomination is kind of unfounded.

But, to be fair, the argument isn’t that he can’t get nominated for an Oscar, it’s that he can’t win an Oscar. But, there’s a really good reason he hasn’t won yet. Are you ready for it? The reason he hasn’t won yet is because…he never gave the best performance in any given year. It’s as simple as that. Of course, judging performances is completely subjective business, and some people may think that he did in fact give the best performance in one or more of the years he was nominated. But, given the times he has been nominated for Best Actor, he lost, in turn, to Forest Whitaker for The Last King of Scotland, Jamie Foxx for Ray, and now Matthew McConaughey for Dallas Buyers Club. Not only are all three strong performances, but all three were HEAVILY FAVORED TO WIN THE AWARD. So, when faced against juggernaut performances like that, how can DiCaprio's not winning possible be seen as a slight against him personally?

The award he had the best chance of winning was for his very first nomination—for Best Supporting Actor in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape (which remains, for my money, his best performance).   

I criticized Wolf of Wall Street, and have now spent a whole article not feeling sorry for him, so I felt he needed some deserved praise. As you can see, though, he's still sad.

He lost to Tommy Lee Jones for The Fugitive, which was indeed a bit of a surprise. But, even though Tommy Lee Jones was not the favorite, neither was DiCaprio. The favorite going into the award was Ralph Fiennes for Schindler's List. Once again, DiCaprio was not snubbed—he was actively expected not to win each of these years. Like I said, you may think he deserved to win one, or more than one, of these years. His girlfriend at the time, Gisele Bundchen, famously said that DiCaprio in The Aviator should have won the Oscar of Foxx for Ray. But there is nothing to quantify this. And there is nothing in DiCaprio’s performance that is objectively better than Foxx’s. Foxx was the favorite going in, not DiCaprio, so how can it be a snub when DiCaprio doesn’t win an award he wasn’t expected to win anyway?

 I’m sure that DiCaprio will win an Oscar one day. It’s basically guaranteed. As I already mentioned, the Academy likes to reward people because it’s “their time.” They’re like the GOP that way (also because they’re all old white men). The Departed happened to be a great movie, but Scorsese would have won Best Director that year even if he had released a movie of Jack Nicholson flossing. At this point, the perceived slights against Leonardo DiCaprio have become so pervasive that the consensus is that he’s “due.” And that will win him an award. It’s generally accepted, for example, that Dame Judi Dench’s Oscar for Shakespeare in Love had little to do with her performance in that film (which is basically just a cameo) and everything to do with her not winning for Mrs. Brown. And Leonardo DiCaprio will similarly win an award, and everyone will say that “it’s about time,” and congratulate the Oscars on correcting the error of their ways.

But I think this cheapens the meaning of the Oscars. As flawed as they are—and they really are quite flawed—the idea is that the award should be given to the best performance of the year. Like I’ve said, DiCaprio is an incredible actor, and he has given consistently amazing performances all throughout his career. He has rightfully earned his place as one of the best actors of his generation. But the Oscars are not given to a body of work—they are given to individual performances. DiCaprio gives some great ones, but he simply has not held the distinction of giving the best performance in any given year. That’s why he hasn’t gotten the Oscar. Not because The Oscars hate him, and not because of some grand conspiracy against him. By all means, let’s keep making jokes about how much he wants to win an Oscar, but let’s not take them too seriously. And let’s not pretend that The Oscars are like a Little League game where the winner is whoever “wants it more.” If that were the case, then Lee Daniels’ The Butler would have won Best Picture this year.

He can play happy too! That, my friends, is called "range."

"The Wolf of Wall Street" and the Shylock Problem

As the Oscars approach, one of the more controversial nominees this year is Martin Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street. I weigh in on the debate, and offer a comparison with one of Shakespeare’s most notorious characters.

One of my main passions in life is the complete works of William Shakespeare. It’s pointless to discuss how great Shakespeare is here, as it’s not like his genius is not well-known or often-discussed. One of Shakespeare’s best qualities is his inclusion of, at the time, unrepresented characters. No other playwright of the time gave their female characters such prevalence and strength, and the inclusion of characters of other races is rather incredible. One such character is that of Shylock, the Jewish moneylender from Merchant of Venice. The best known character from the play, Shylock is not actually the titular merchant, as many believe. The merchant, in this case, is the anti-semitic Antonio, who regularly bullies and disrespects Shylock. In most contemporary productions, Shylock is seen as a victim who cunningly seeks revenge on his oppressors. He is a sympathetic character, and his utter defeat at the end—when Portia shows him up in court—is usually displayed as pitiable and sad. Shylock’s not necessarily a good guy, and his demand for a pound of Antonio’s flesh is scarily unreasonable, but you understand it, considering the years of abuse he has faced.

Al Pacino as Shylock

I include the caveat that this is in contemporary productions, because in Shakespeare’s time, Shylock was certainly meant to be the villain. He’s creepy, he’s crafty, he’s downright vicious, and of course is a completely anti-semitic stereotype. With the changing times, directors and actors must go out of their way to make the play acceptable and…well…not racist (I’m not even going to mention the Moroccan Prince who apologizes for his complexion). And, to be fair, there have been many productions that handle this admirably. And despite Shakespeare’s intentions, Shylock does come across as a believably sympathetic character.

But I object to what has become a common notion—I have heard from a surprising number of people a theory that Shylock was intended to be the hero of the play. They claim that Shakespeare meant for him to be sympathetic, that he meant for the final scene to be a tragic one and not a triumphant one. That Antonio and his cohorts are intentionally villains and bigots, and not Shakespeare’s choice for the heroes of the play.

This is, frankly, bullshit.

It’s simply a fact that Shylock was meant to be a scary villain. Yeah, Shakespeare shows him some compassion (the “If you prick us do we not bleed” speech being the most famous example) but he does this with almost all of his villains. Shakespeare was unusual for not painting his characters in black and white and giving the heroes faults and the villains moments of kindness. But Shylock is certainly a villain, and is an undeniably racist caricature. All evidence points to this—from comparing Shylock to Shakespeare’s other villains, to notes about the original production, to the ACTUAL TEXT OF THE PLAY. I challenge anyone to read this play and find any real evidence that Shakespeare was actually rooting for Shylock. Despite contemporary interpretations, it’s just not possible.

So, why then have people come to the conclusion that Shylock was meant to be a hero? For one main reason: they don’t want to think that Shakespeare did something bad. Despite his documented faults, his fans wish to see the best in him. And when presented with a “grey area,” they choose to give the artist the benefit of the doubt.

And that lengthy rant brings me to the main point of this post. Because this is not a review of The Merchant of Venice, it’s a review of The Wolf of Wall Street, the Oscar nominee which I found to be one of the most morally bankrupt and irresponsible films I’ve ever seen.

None of this should be new information. When the film first premiered there were instant criticisms of the film as misogynist and crude. This was enough to generate considerable controversy surrounding the film—which is probably why the acclaimed film either dominated the nominations of major awards, or received nothing (it notably did not earn SAG Award nominations for Oscar nominees Leonardo DiCaprio or Jonah Hill, and a board member for the Critic’s Choice Awards was very vocal that this film was intentionally left off of the list of nominees).

But after the initial wave of criticism was launched at the film, a new chorus of voices came out of the woodwork citing the film as actually having a feminist message. One of the most shared pieces championing this point of view is this one from feminist website Jezebel (a website which has been very problematic in the past, but which remains one of the more recognizable voices for feminism on the internet). In this article, and in others, the main point is that the act of simply portraying misogyny on screen does not make the film itself misogynistic. And I agree. But much like we give Shakespeare too much credit to assume that his racist comments are intended as commentary, we give Scorsese too much credit to assume that his portrayal of misogyny is not, in fact, misogynistic in and of itself. 

Still from The Wolf of Wall Street

The behavior of Jordan Belfort (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his gang of cohorts is nothing short of disgusting. To anyone with a conscience this should be apparent. But the film glorifies his behavior and flaunts excess in a way that puts DiCaprio’s other major film this year—The Great Gatsby—to shame. Most of Belfort’s worst behavior (one incredibly offensive conversation comes to mind where the characters discuss little people as if they are literally inhuman) is played for laughs.  Perhaps the worst scene for me was when a gay man is brutally beaten and dangled off the roof of a building by his ankles, only to later be arrested. This scene horrified me, but in the theater where I saw it, there were distinct laughs from the audience (especially as DiCaprio jokes that the policeman beat the man up too). At screenings of the film near Wall Street, there have been reports of stockbrokers cheering at Belfort’s destructive behavior, and numerous people have taken to twitter saying how they “want to be Jordan Belfort,” and talking about how badass Belfort is. It’s terrible and far from the response that one should take away from the film.

Obviously, the reaction of an often-ignorant public does not mean that the product itself is at fault. The brilliant television show Breaking Bad similarly had fans who supported main character Walter White even as he became indefensible. But the difference between these is that while Breaking Bad went out of its way to show White as cruel and pathetic, The Wolf of Wall Street treats Belfort like a charismatic hero. I can almost understand why fans had the reaction to “want to be” Belfort—since the film paints him as really cool, and seems to view him as an ordinarily good guy who sticks to his principles, who simply got into a bad situation, and was corrupted by drugs and power. Breaking Bad, on the other  hand, ultimately made the distinction that Walter always had the villainous side to him and his nature made him do this rather than any real outside force—“I did it for me,” he confesses at the end of the series. Breaking Bad sets up Walter White as an absolute genius, but never sets him up as being more than human. But in the film, Belfort comes across as a silver-tongued demigod who everyone looks up to and who always gets his way—and we are supposed to look up to him as well.

What’s missing from the film is any manner of condemnation for Belfort. When he does something wrong, DiCaprio addresses it in a brief narration where he sounds sad, but then moves on (the film has to keep at a fast pace to avoid having a runtime even longer than it is currently). Now, this film is based on true events, and in real life, Jordan Belfort gets away with his crimes, so I’m not arguing that he shouldn’t get away with it in the film. But this is a work of art and the artist is allowed to make a statement. It would be incredibly easy to provide cinematic commentary to paint Belfort as pathetic, and to show disdain for him. Scorsese is certainly well-versed enough in filmmaking to know how to show a character is a villain. Do something to show regret, do something to show shame, do something to show that Belfort’s actions have been harmful. But that’s completely missing here.

Actually, it’s not completely missing. One character does seem to have regrets. That character is Agent Patrick Denham (Kyle Chandler) who rides the subway with a look of sadness at his ordinary life—which Belfort had confronted him with earlier—and who happens to be one of the few decent people in the entire film. What does it say that the one character who does actually make an honest living and whom presumably, should be completely satisfied with his work and with his life, is the only one who is shown to be “less than?”

And the thing is that it would be incredibly easy to offer condemnation of Belfort and the like. It would take one scene—one single scene. Perhaps one where we see Belfort hit rock bottom and realize how pathetic his life is? Some have argues that this scene does appear in the film, but which one? Is it the one where Belfort is physically incapacitated due to particularly powerful Quaaludes? Because that’s the same scene where he actually finds strength by taking MORE drugs, and then manages to save his best friend’s life. Or maybe it’s the scene where his wife leaves him and he crashes his car while trying to kidnap their daughter? Thiswell-written piece which defends the movie (but very fairly acknowledges its flaws) basically hinges its entire argument on the existence of that scene. Except that, despite the damage to his car, he comes away completely unscathed and doesn’t appear to have any remorse.

For me, the easiest way that the film could have condemned Belfort would have been by showing his victims. Belfort was taken down because his shady business practices were really harmful, and robbed a lot of people of a lot of money. He ruined lives. This is mentioned exactly once, by Belfort’s first wife Teresa (Cristin Milioti), and is quickly dismissed. So, this is mentioned only briefly in a three hour film. And the only time one of Belfort’s victims is even in a scene is in a single phone conversation as they’re being conned—they’re not even allowed to appear on the screen. This is far from unintentional. DiCaprio has gone on record saying, “It’s a very conscious choice that [writer Terrence Winter] made in the screenplay not to show the ramifications of their actions. Throughout the picture, you go on this acid trip with them, without any regard for the people around them.”

That’s all well and good, and an interesting an approach…but only if the regard for the people hurt by the characters EVENTUALLY comes into play. If there had been a single scene showing how much people had been hurt by Belfort, right at the end, just one scene to show the ramifications of their actions—which the filmmakers specifically avoided doing—then this film could have had a moral compass. It still wouldn’t have been perfect, but I wouldn’t be writing this rant. That scene is necessary or the movie becomes completely loathsome. Think about it this way—how would we react if a film were made with this same level of glamor and glitz but were about Bernie Madoff? Would we still hail the film as brilliant, or would we rightfully say that the film was not harsh enough in its portrayal of the detestable con artist? You cannot show the crimes of the character if you don’t bother to show those hurt by them.

Again, is it possible that those involved in the film meant for us to be disgusted? Certainly. But much like with Shakespeare and his representation of Shylock, we should not give them such a benefit of the doubt. Considering the textual—and, in this case, cinematic—evidence that is placed before us in the work, there is nothing to imply that this is the case other than wishful thinking which, simply, should never be assumed. Just as Shylock was meant to be a villain, Belfort is meant to be a hero here. And just like with Merchant of Venice, just because a responsible audience will not excuse bad behavior on behalf of the piece’s protagonists, we should not assume that those behind The Wolf of Wall Street are on the same level of thinking. The film struck me as completely irresponsible and, frankly, reprehensible.

To be fair, it is objectively well-made. And there are some really strong scenes—I was especially struck by the brilliant scene where Belfort invites the FBI to come onto his boat. But there were some objectively bad parts of the film as well. I’m okay with a character breaking the fourth wall and talking to the audience—but it felt like it only happened two or three times in the entire (very long) film. You can’t establish that DiCaprio will speak into the camera, and then forget about it, and then halfway through go “Oh yeah, he talks to the camera sometimes.” And when the Swiss banker (Jean Dujardin) suddenly had a voiceover and was communicating with Belfort telepathically? What was that? And having Belfort’s capture being on the infomercial DiCaprio is shooting was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever seen. And while many of the performances were very strong, I was not at all impressed with the performance of Margot Robbie as Belfort’s wife Naomi. To me, the performance completely fell flat and, as a result, the only major female character in the film was a complete non-entity.

I have nothing against films with unlikable characters, or ones where the characters do unlikable things. It’s often necessary to highlight what is wrong with the action in the first place. But in The Wolf of Wall Street, a film which I promise I went into with only the highest hopes, the crucial moral is completely missing. It brings to my mind The Player, directed by Robert Altman-- a great film where the despicable main character gets the girl, and literally gets away with murder. But Altman has the sensibility and the subtlety to nonetheless make sure we know that his protagonist is not a hero. Scorsese lacks any semblance of such subtlety here. And it was definitely needed if the film were to succeed. If a film seems misogynistic, it probably is. After all, I think Shakespeare said it best: "He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf."

What are your thoughts? Do you feel I missed something that would redeem the film from the very low regard in which I hold it? Let me know in the comments—I’m always up for a debate.