http://www.thestar.com/NASApp/cs/Conten ... 9048864482

Gil Cates has a dark secret and a big problem.

First, the secret. As the producer of the annual Oscar telecast, a job he loves and which he's just been given for a record 13th time, he is supposed to maintain the sober and serious standards of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, Hollywood's version of the Vatican.

He's not supposed to be encouraging the kind of antics that enliven the Oscar show, when winning actors act up, such as when Jack Palance showed off his one-arm push-ups in 1991. Or when Cuba Gooding Jr. joyfully fought the band trying to play him off the stage in 1997, as he dashed around shouting, "I love you, I love you!" Or when a delirious Roberto Benigni clambered over audience chairs in 1999, saying he wanted to make love to the universe.

"I love it when that happens!" Cates admitted in an interview, during a recent Toronto visit on behalf of the Famous People Players. "You hope that happens. The most important thing to do is to deliver an emotional show. The really memorable things are the things over which nobody has any control."

Therein lies the problem. He's supposed to have control over the show, right down to the last minute, or else he gets gripes from the Academy, the television network and from countless people among the millions of sleepy viewers who are eager to get to bed before midnight.

And for the next several months, leading up to the 78th Oscar telecast on March 5, the genial 71-year-old Hollywood veteran with the Santa Claus whiskers is going to once again attempt the impossible, by balancing art and prestige with acts of passion. He's the director of two Oscar-nominated movies, I Never Sang for My Father (1970) and Summer Wishes, Winter Dreams (1973), so he knows the expectations from all sides.

This year's Oscar campaign begins in earnest Dec. 7, when the National Board of Review sets the agenda with its top 10 movies of 2005, followed shortly thereafter by nominations for the Golden Globes and various critics' groups that unofficially narrow the field, leading to the Oscar noms on Jan. 31.

Like Gary Cooper in High Noon, Cates has to fight off challengers and pretenders to a show that still ranks among the most-viewed telecasts on the planet, but which in recent years has suffered the declining viewership that has affected all awards shows.

"I think people are tired of these shows," he said, referring to the glut of awards broadcasts.

"They're all done the same way, and the self-aggrandizement on some of these shows is pathetic. Listen, I'm bored with most of them."

Cates is painfully aware of how rapidly the audience drops off for every minute the telecast goes past the optimum 3 1/2-hour running time, which would take it to 11:30 p.m. on the east coast. He constantly reminds winners not to exceed their allotted 40 seconds for their acceptance speeches, even though he secretly applauds the time hogs who give great TV — such as Best Actress Julia Roberts did in 2001 when she defiantly and hilariously took four minutes to thank "everyone I've ever met in my life!"

People assume, and loudly proclaim, that 3 1/2 hours should be plenty of time to hand out a bunch of golden statues, tell a few jokes and sing a few songs. But Cates has done the math, and there's a lot less wiggle room than you might expect. Take out the awards and the ads, and that leaves just 20 minutes for the live entertainment that Cates is convinced everybody secretly loves.

"Can I tell you the truth? I don't take this too seriously. At the end of the day, it's not curing cancer. It's show business. My obligation is to make the show entertaining, make it meaningful and make it emotional. And most people get that."

Cates' showman instincts have led him to take some highly controversial moves in recent years to spice up the affair. He championed the selection of high-wire comic Chris Rock to last year's show, despite the fears of some Academy members that Rock might be too blue for Kalamazoo or too puerile for Peoria. (Rock proved to be a hit, helping to arrest the Oscars ratings slide.)

Cates also courted criticism by having Destiny's Child diva Beyoncé Knowles sing three of the five nominated songs, a break from tradition of having the original movie talent perform their own material.

"Beyoncé is one of the biggest stars in the world and having her sing three of the songs I think is great. And having Andrew Lloyd Webber accompany her on piano during The Phantom of the Opera number — where are you going to see that anywhere else?"

His most outrageous move, one that he admits may not be repeated owing to the outcry over it, was the decision to hand out some technical awards in the audience, rather than have the winners troop up to the stage. Cates had worked it out that some 15 minutes of the show is spent watching people walk from their seats to the stage, and for smaller awards, that walk can seem like an eternity. But the Academy insists that all awards should be considered equal, no matter whether it's for Best Sound Editing or Best Picture, and so the long walk may return.

He's holding firm, however, on his own Oscar show addition, the salute to recently departed stars that is referred to as the necrology section. Even some Academy board members have told Cates they're bored by the parade of dead people, but he demurs.

"What I like about the necrology is it connects you with the past in a way that is very emotional and very deep. Frankly, many people either didn't know or had forgotten some of those faces that have passed away. I've always liked it. People have recommended dropping it, but it's wilful on my part to keep it."

Cates is a man of remarkable good humour, which he manages to keep despite the endless criticism, second-guessing and "helpful" suggestions he receives to make the annual Oscar telecast better. He realizes that it's because the show is so important to so many people that they feel a sense of ownership.

"The most important showbiz lesson of my life is that disappointment is a function of expectation. You have to have a certain amount of ballyhoo, and a certain amount of enthusiasm and excitement, so that people tune in. But boy, if you promise more than you deliver, you're dead.

"And I think that's true in life, don't you?"

And at this late, still no host?

Am I the only one who does not enjoy the dance numbers or the musical numbers?

I for one, had no idea the death parade was referred to as the necrology.

I say bring back Chris Rock. Or get Ellen. Stewart is a bit too political.

Nope. They're atrocious and amateurish for the most part.

Can't they just have the orchestra perform sound clips of nominated scores???

They do, you mean the songs?

The problem I have with the songs is that the songs are probably the absolute lamest Oscar category. Sometimes a movie like A Mighty Wind or 8 Mile just *needs* those as part of its story, but does The Producers or Lord of the Rings or Chronicles of Narnia really need extra songs?

>> insert rant about song category here <<

If they really want to shorten the show, get rid of docu short and animated short categories. Nobody really cares about those, although that's sad for the people who produce them and usually aren't Hollywood Insiders.

And do Visual Effects, Sound and Sound Effects editing in one block. Maybe use the same presenters for each award. I love the techs but it seems like a lot of repeated ground.