the team behind Best Picture winner Anora
So. Who won Best Actress?
I'm kidding … although the answer to that question did come later than I would've preferred.
Like many of you, probably, I watched last night's 97th Academy Awards ceremony on Hulu, and all was going swell right up until it was time to settle this year's most nerve-racking category. [Scroll past the commentary for the full list of winners.] But before Emma Stone came out from the wings to announce Best Actress, the telecast's live feed abruptly stopped, and, as other Hulu viewers were, I was greeted with one of those “We hope you enjoyed your program – now pick something else!” adieus suggesting that the fun was officially over. Ummm … what?! I tried returning to the show from the homepage, I tried exiting and re-launching the streaming service, I even tried turning the TV off then on again – nothin' worked. From what I've learned, the “technical glitch” was the result of Hulu schedulers deciding to give the live broadcast a pre-set end time of 10:32 p.m. ET – as if this annual behemoth, red-carpet obsequiousness included, had never gone longer than four hours before!
To say that Oscars fans were really really (checks Internet) really pissed would be a severe understatement, though I guess we should've seen a snafu coming. Doesn't something always go senselessly wrong when Emma Stone shows up for one of the night's final moments? And it probably didn't take long for most viewers to learn who the Best Actress prize went to, at least if, like me, they had a friend who was watching the telecast on broadcast TV like a normal person and immediately texted “NOOOOOOO!!!! POOR DEMI!!!!” But still, yeah, we were robbed of our chance to witness Moore gracefully ceding to Mikey Madison in real time. Which begs the question: Did Hulu cut the feed short on purpose?
Obviously, that's crazy talk. It was just a fluke … although I will note that the entire ceremony would've finished on time if there weren't that meaningless salute to James Bond and so much “No you're the best!” filler and host Conan O'Brien's musical-comedy number titled (in retrospect, depressingly) “I Won't Waste Time.” But given how much of executive producers Raj Kapoor's and Katy Mullan's show seemed to cater specifically to Gen Xers – Daryl Hannah! A Harry and Sally reunion! Not one but two songs from The Wiz! – it is kind of ironic that the Hulu stream concluded right before we'd have to watch one of our Brat Pack touchstones denied her moment of Oscars glory. If I were feeling really conspiracy-minded, I might also point out that the feed ended mere seconds after Sean Baker wrapped up his Best Directing remarks – a speech that, like all of his this season, contained an impassioned endorsement of the big-screen experience and an ever-so-slightly-raised middle finger to the current streaming model. (“How do you like us now, Baker?!” asked the disgruntled Hulu employee, pushing the “Oscars OFF” button on his console.)
Ah well, it's all water under the bridge now. After a few minutes, it was easy enough to find the stuff we missed on YouTube. And after Baker received his third statuette of the night, it was pretty evident who and what were winning those two final awards anyway. Which isn't meant to diminish Baker's or his film's victories, because seriously – holy cow, Anora! An Oscars season that was especially all over the map and threatened to result in a bunch of odd category splits actually concluded in the most traditional way possible, with Baker's Palme d'Or champion snagging Best Picture, Directing, Original Screenplay, Film Editing, and an acting prize for the 25-year-old who bested the 62-year-old. (The Substance-y echoes of that result are truly overwhelming.) A traditional Academy Awards finale, yes, but hardly a conventional one. Baker's scrappy little indie comedy, after all, is a sympathetic appraisal of sex workers, one boasting copious nudity and about a kajillion droppings of the F-bomb, and it hardly set the box office on fire. Besides which, the four prizes awarded to producer/director/writer/editor Baker are a wildly unconventional happenstance in their own right, as only one other person in history ever received four Oscars on a single night. His name is Walt Disney.
Because vote tabulators don't release the numeric results, we'll never know if any of Anora's wins were close calls – whether, say, Conclave was within spitting distance of Picture and Editing, or if The Brutalist was almost there for Directing and Screenplay … or if Demi Moore wasn't even close to being the lock so many presumed. What was apparent, at least based on the reactions of those in Hollywood's Dolby Theatre, was that Baker's movie was widely and rather wildly adored, as was Madison – she got the standing ovation, along with no end of cheers, that might've easily gone to another. (Her presence and acceptance speech were lovely, by the way.) And although, if I had one, Anora would fall in the middle of my own preferential ballot – I liked four films more, I liked five less – it's always a relief when the biggest prizes go to a good movie over a crummy one. Also: a comedy! That's a treat in and of itself. So if you missed this year's biggest Oscars success story – a Cinderella tale that just got its own glass slipper and Happily Ever After – make sure to catch up with the title when it begins streaming on March 17. Guess which service nabbed it. That's right. Hulu.
In other news, I found most of last night's telecast tedious, but I'll take the heat for that myself, because I've spent most of the last three decades not particularly caring for Conan O'Brien. I have nothing against the guy; he seems perfectly nice, and I get why people dig him. It's just that his particular brand of absurdist silliness almost never works for me, and for about a minute, when he traded banter with an intentionally dressed-down-even-for-him Adam Sandler, it was like entering a special portal of comedy Hell reserved specifically for me. (We did, however, get an endearing replay of Sandler's bit from the Golden Globes: “Cha-la-MAAAAAY!”) Though no one could have predicted the tragedy when O'Brien was hired to host last fall, he's also not someone you necessarily want making a sharp veer into abject sincerity, which he had to when discussing the devastation of the California wildfires. The messaging was on-point and welcome, but O'Brien is too inherently blithe for his sentiments to carry the necessary weight; this is the sort of thing Jimmy Kimmel does better than nearly anyone.
Still, the host had his moments, among them a filmed intro that likely either made viewers want to check out The Substance immediately or include it at the top of their “not in a million years” list. (Hi, Mom!) His early crack referencing Karla Sofía Gascón's offensive tweets was gratifyingly mean-spirited – low-hanging fruit picked exceptionally well – and in a rare political jab, O'Brien got deservedly huge laughs by opining that Anora was a hit because its heroine had no problem standing up to a powerful Russian. Otherwise, even in his mini-sketches including that “I Won't Waste Time” time-waster, it was easy to forget O'Brien was around … which might be the best that any modern Oscars host can hope for. It's a thoroughly thankless task, and to the man's credit, he never looked rattled or genuinely unhappy – and that commercial for “CinemaStreams” was terrific. I sense a like-minded art installation going up at MoMA any minute now.
For reasons that were in no way O'Brien's fault or responsibility, though, much of the 97th Oscars was simply … strange. Though the practice seems to yield diminishing returns every time it reappears, producers still trot out that routine in which five celebrities give testimonials to nominees in lieu of our seeing film clips. I get why it didn't happen for the actors this year: Just how laudatory does anyone want to be about Karla Sofía Gascón these days? But why did the five-on-five take place solely in the seemingly randomly chosen craft categories of Cinematography and Costume Design? (In the latter category, the assemblage at least led to a solid visual joke for Bowen Yang, along with one of the night's several priceless bits for John Lithgow.) With the acting races, why did the supporting nominees only get testimonials while the leads had accompanying film clips? Why was the In Memoriam segment, which (in a pleasant change) actually looked quite good, accompanied by the Los Angeles Master Chorale singing the “Lacrimosa” from Mozart's Requiem? I mean, it sounded beautiful and all, but isn't that piece a little too dour and chilly and, let's face it, scary for a theoretical celebration of the deceased and their impact? As these things go, the In Memoriam was astutely produced and delivered. Yet the beyond-somber number – it's almost too tempting to call it “funereal” – seemed to send a frightening subtextual message to those on the main floor of the Dolby: “Next year, this could be you.”
I didn't get the Bond tribute, with Margaret Qualley doing expressionist dance while a trio of chanteuses I don't know – Doja Cat and the uni-named Lisa and Raye – made one yearn for Shirley Bassey and Adele. I didn't get why we were denied presentations of the Best Original Song nominees when there was going to be so much singing during the night anyway. (Though I will take Cynthia Erivo, Ariana Grande, and Queen Latifah absolutely slaying it on Oz tunes over listening to anything from Emilia Pérez any day of the week. “El Mal” indeed.) And as weirdly endearing as a few of them were, I didn't get the logic behind a lot of the presenter pairings. Andrew Garfield telling Goldie Hawn that she's his mom's favorite was über-adorable, and I can't be the only one who wants to see a deadpan comedy for Scarlett Johansson and June Squibb, like, yesterday. But Selena Gomez and Samuel L. Jackson? Gal Gadot and Rachel Zegler? Miley Cyrus and Miles Teller? Barring the two-fers of Oprah Winfrey/Whoopi Goldberg and Billy Crystal/Meg Ryan, it was almost as if the presenters were matched based solely on the order in which their accepted invitations landed. (“I got Teller on the line … he's in!” “Miley just called … she's a go!” “There's our Best Sound! Next!”)
Still, even a largely lousy Academy Awards telecast – and despite only correctly predicting 14 of the 23 categories, this year's was hardly that – is a pretty great time, particularly when you're treated to speeches as uniformly delightful as those the 97th Oscars provided. Sure, Adrien Brody's heartfelt and humble gratitude went on way too long, those Emilia Pérez composers, like their movie, were rather insufferable, and you wouldn't call the resulting speech for Best Documentary Feature No Other Land “delightful” so much as “powerful” and “justifiably incensed.” (Here's hoping the lauded title finally nabs a U.S. distributor, as studios have thus far been steering clear of this rallying cry for an end to the Palestinian-Israeli conflict.) Most of the other victors, though, delivered one extended podium treat after another.
Sean Baker alone was responsible for four of them, his finest acceptance being for editing, when he proclaimed, “I saved this film in the edit! That director should never work again!” Zoe Saldaña, who's had plenty of practice of late, saved her best speech for last, acknowledging her standing O with radiant joy and deeply touching tributes to her family. Wicked designer Paul Tazewell, the first Black man to ever win the costuming Oscar, was ebullient and moving; Iranian animated-short victors Shirin Sohani and Hossein Molayemi expressed amazement that, due to an issue with their visas, they landed in Los Angeles a mere three hours before their win; the charming recipients for Animated Feature champ Flow made The Wild Robot's loss in the category slightly less heartbreaking. (As did the fact that the Latvian kitty movie is awesome.)
And can we take a moment to extend some sympathy toward Kieran Culkin's wife Jazz? When the Real Pain co-star won his Emmy for the final season of Succession – amazingly, that ceremony took place not even 14 months ago – he concluded his speech by publicly asking his spouse, almost pleadingly, for more kids than the two they already have. Culkin referenced the topic in his Oscars victory, too, adding that Jazz told him she's be willing to have two more children with him … so long as he won the Oscar last night. Culkin is currently rehearsing David Mamet's Glengarry Glen Ross on Broadway, and is playing a role that earned Tonys for two separate actors in the past. If Jazz made any kind of additional deal with her hubby regarding a third show-biz milestone – the "T" in his inevtable EGOT – theirs is potentially gonna be one awfully full house.
2025 Academy Award winners:
Best Picture: Anora
Best Directing: Sean Baker, Anora
Best Actress: Mikey Madison, Anora
Best Actor: Adrien Brody, The Brutalist
Best Supporting Actress: Zoe Saldaña, Emilia Pérez
Best Supporting Actor: Kieran Culkin, A Real Pain
Best Original Screenplay: Anora, Sean Baker
Best Adapted Screenplay: Conclave, Peter Straughan
Best Animated Feature: Flow
Best Original Song: “El Mal,” Emilia Pérez
Best International Feature Film: I'm Still Here, Brazil
Best Documentary Feature Film: No Other Land
Best Cinematography: The Brutalist
Best Film Editing: Anora
Best Production Design: Wicked
Best Costume Design: Wicked
Best Sound: Dune: Part Two
Best Original Score: The Brutalist
Best Visual Effects: Dune: Part Two
Best Makeup & Hairstyling: The Substance
Best Documentary Short Film: The Only Girl in the Orchestra
Best Live-Action Short Film: I'm Not a Robot
Best Animated Short Film: In the Shadow of the Cypress
