HOW TO WIN AN OSCAR

Following last month’s success in our “How To” series - Arriving at funerals, why the unicycle is right out – we are very almost proud to present: “Winning An Oscar – or “How to discreetly receive a small man in mixed company.”

Hello. Or if you’ve just joined us, where have you been? There was this great gag about unicycles. No matter. Today, the hazelnut confectionary – or ‘topic’ – under consideration is Academy Awards. Who wins them, and when? Who makes them, and how? Who eats them and why? And let’s face it, who cares?

Well apparently everyone does (excluding the astronaut Wilma Fondlebaum, naturally, whose interest couldn’t help but waiver after she died in 1968 when her lunar module burst into flames upon re-entry of the WHSmiths Young Writers competition). Unlike similar self-congratulatory ceremonies such as the BAFTAS (British Annual Film & Television Awards) and CANNES (Crap Arty Nonsense No-one Ever Sees), the world, his wife and her sanitary towel salesman waits with baited badgers, heart in mouth, mind in turmoil and lower in testine for the golden envelope.

But how do talent free no-hopers such as you (present company unlikely) get a Look-In? Or indeed, a Whizzer & Chips? Well zip up the viscose catsuit of fearing-notment, it’s not as half as difficult as you may think.

As we’re about to find out, it’s at least two thirds.

1. Write A Script

Obviously. This is the fat was of paper and staples with lots of vital stuff on it (dialogue, plot, location, little stick-men on each page so when you flick it quickly one way it looks like he’s running, and the other way, like he’s applying for a season ticket for West Bromwich Albion). Don’t whatever you do try to make a movie without one.The only successful scriptless picture was 1943 Bergman classic “What, so I’ll just stand here then?” (aka “Should I walk up and down a bit”) US 115mins, nominated for Most Gormless actor Oscar in ’44, though rumour has it the nomination was withdrawn when it was revealed the actor had in fact oodles of gorm, he’d just left it in his jacket.

For assured glory come Oscar night, make sure your script features old award stalwarts like death, suffering, personal loss or tragedy (see Philidelphia, Schindler’s List, Rain Man, Stop Or My Mom Will Shoot). By extension, try to avoid too many “funny” things – people falling over, cars with wobbly chassis that make the doors fall off, or a Yak dancing the Charleston). In fact, forget it. You’ll only go too far and write a 4hr epic about a divorced autistic gay leper coming to terms with prison life and cancer. Starring Meryl Streep. And I’ll be pooed if I’m sitting through it. No, better do like everybody else does (Gump, Shawshank, Quiz Show) and adapt a screenplay. This is a doddle. Just take a book, any book (ideally check the back includes phrases like ‘epic struggle of courage against all odds’ and not ‘cuddly tale of woodland folk for ages 3 and up’) and retype it – but just the talky bits, leaving out all the describing bits.

Peasy.

2. Raise Some Money

Yep, armed with your script, it’s time to eat humble pie, ingratiating sandwiches and thinly sliced meekness on wholemeal. You need cash, and bumloads of the stuff, there’s no getting away from it, not even by pointing and “look, geese!” and then running in the other direction. Face facts, fatso, find the funds.

Now there are literally some ways of raising money quickly. Most of them, such as dressing up as a large egg, queuing up at the Post Office , jumping up and down and clucking show little capital gain, but on the plus side will bust your chops and guarantee big laughs with the guys.

No, as anyone who spent their formative years watching “The A-Team” will tell you, the one, sure-fire, bet’cha-beehive way to fund a movie is to put on a peaked cap and wander into Paramount Studios chewing a cigar and drawling Yep, we gotta take awwwwl this stuff away for tests.” And when fat security guards called Dwight and Bubba start objecting, simply wave your clipboard and say “dinch’a get da paperwoik? Nyahhh, the boss is gonna be steamin’…” then load up your van. Worked for the Face every week.

Quick point: the tempatation to hold 30p above your head whilst chucking “raise funds! H-huh, geddit?” shold be resisted. Such behaviour can result in close friends massaging engine parts into your gums.

3. Film The Thing

You’ve put it off for long enough. Complaining you had no actors or locations we could understand. But that last excuse (the one about the badger and the thyree Hungarian shoe-salesmen) was fooling no-one. Get on with it. The only thing you have to remember is – treat your actors with care. I mean, they pretend for a living. What sort of job is that? You and I may pretend occasionally (pretend we didn’t see that red light maybe, or that the Swedish Air Stewardess was already straddling the Corby Trouser Press when we bought it, officer) but these guys do it all the time, whining incessantly about ‘getting inside their character’ (or at least near enough to read their hat measurement). Take my advice, you want to win an award? Hire British actors and leave them to it. (The only recorded exception to this rule was during the 1982 filing of ‘Ghandi.’ It is now more or less accepted that its 7 Oscars were due to Ben Kingsley replacing the original choice for the title role, Robin Asquith, who was fired for repeatedly blowing a swanee whistle and dropping his loin cloth.

No, don’t you worry about what’s going on in front of the camera (except for that extra in the crowd scene. Just over there, see? With the big beard and moustache? She looks silly, get rid of her). Your job is to worry about all the mics, cables, lights and equipment behind the camera. Which, folks, is where it should be. Look around.. See it? Huh? No? Just a load of paper bags and coloured sherbert? Congratulations, you’re standing in Woolworths and you’ve arsed it up again.

4. Collect The Award.

Well, by now if you’ve followed instructions you should be sitting in overpriced evening wear preparing to take to the stage and pick up a statue. Alternatively, if the printers have messed this up with the recipe page again you could well be preparing to baste yourself lightly with oil and sit in a medium oven for 20 minutes. Happened to my brother once. He doesn’t talk so much now, but by way of compensation, he does go lovely with a rich mushroom sauce.

For men, a plain tux is traditional. Fashion experimentation is usually frowned upon by the Academy (as is dancing or waving trout). Saying that though, jackets without lapels are popular as are shirts without collars. Suits without trousers however are just unhygienic. Women on the other hand can get away with anything. Cher’s reputation for low-cut numbers peaked this year with her unique Versace low-cut hat (although it later transpired sadly this was merely a belt).

Speeches should be kept short. If you’re stuck, traditional people to thank are cast, crew, family and friends. Mentioning pets can be charming and eccentric, but leave it there. Bringing them along in full evening dress is just silly (but a goldfish is acceptable in a cummerbund). The recent tendency for stars to use the podium to raise political issues has left many politicians feeling if actors can do politics, why can’t they address congress with a recitation of the Pacino speech from Godfather Pt II. Rumour has it in her last days, Margaret Thatcher could be seen prowling the House of Commons in a Meryl Streep Wig complaining a dingo ate her baby.

Look, let’s face it. Maybe you’ll win, maybe you won’t – there’s only one way to be sure. Make a film starring Charlton Heston and Jack Hawkins. About 3.5hrs long, called ‘Ben Hur.’ 11 Oscars, guaranteed. Er…of course, someone already did it in 1959. But don’t fret. Just call it…er, just call it a homage. No, no, better still, a fromage. That way, if the Academy don’t like it, we can slice it up and enjoy it with crackers and a spot of Branston. Yum.

Tune in next month for “Inferiority Complexes – why my dad’s was much better than mine.” Ta-ta.