THE ART OF WINNING

The real drama of the Oscar race happens before the envelope opens

- NAVIN J. ANTONY

The Oscar season unfolds like a three-act movie—setup, buildup, payoff.

Most people only tune in for the payoff—the star-studded night at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood. Nominees sit in suspense as the presenter announces the winner. Cheers erupt, tears flow, gratitude pours out. If the audience is lucky, they get an awkward moment or a blunder that fuels weeks of water-cooler conversation.

But the real drama? That happens long before the envelopes are opened.

Like any great film, the Oscars begin with the setup. Take last year: seven months after Oppenheimer premiered, its star Cillian Murphy sat down for a quiet CBS interview. He spoke about his wife of 20 years, their two teenage sons, and Scout, their Labrador (named after the character in To Kill a Mockingbird). The timing was no accident—it was December, the start of the Oscar season. From that moment on, the bright-eyed Cillian (pronounced “Kill-ee-an”, meaning bright-headed in Irish) was everywhere: talk shows, magazine covers, roundtables, red carpets. Until, finally, he stood on stage at the Dolby Theatre, Oscar in hand, and said, “I am a very proud Irishman standing here tonight…. Go raibh míle maith agat.” Or, in English: “Thank you very much.”

Karla Sofía Gascón could have been this year’s Cillian. Nominated for Best Actress for Emilia Perez, she delivered a career-defining performance as a notorious drug lord who transitions into a woman. As a trans woman playing a trans character in Jacques Audiard’s genre-blending crime-comedy-musical, Gascón became the first openly trans actor nominated for an Oscar. Liberals championed her. The setup was perfect.