Late in the evening on April 2, 1974, the forty-sixth Academy Awards had already secured their place in the history books. At ten years old, Tatum O'Neal had become the youngest person ever to win an Oscar, for "Paper Moon." Katharine Hepburn had attended the ceremony for the first time, to present an award. David Niven, sharing hosting duties with Burt Reynolds, Diana Ross, and John Huston, introduced Hepburn with the line "To conceal the identity of our next presenter has called for a security operation of truly royal proportions." A little royalty-and a little decorum-was what the Academy desperately craved. As in recent years, with such surprise sideshows as the Best Picture envelope mixup ("Moonlight" or "La La Land"?) and Will Smith smacking Chris Rock, the Oscars of the early seventies had been bumpy: George C. Scott refusing his award for "Patton," Marlon Brando sending Sacheen Littlefeather to decline his for "The Godfather." When Niven introduced the final presenter, he said, "If one reads the newspapers or listens to the news, it is quite obvious that the whole world is having a nervous breakdown." But in Hollywood, he went on, "we turn out entertainment." That was how Hollywood wanted to see itself: as the unifier of a country fractured by Vietnam and Watergate. Niven, a stiff-upper-lip charmer, could glide above America's political paroxysms, and he might have gone on talking were it not for his friend Elizabeth Taylor, whom he was introducing. "Hurry up, David," she had told him backstage. "Get me out of there fast." And so Niven moved on to introduce the Best Picture presenter, whom he called a "very important contributor to world entertainment, and someone quite likely-"
Bu hikaye The New Yorker dergisinin February 06, 2023 sayısından alınmıştır.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber ? Giriş Yap
Bu hikaye The New Yorker dergisinin February 06, 2023 sayısından alınmıştır.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Giriş Yap
YULE RULES
“Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point.”
COLLISION COURSE
In Devika Rege’ first novel, India enters a troubling new era.
NEW CHAPTER
Is the twentieth-century novel a genre unto itself?
STUCK ON YOU
Pain and pleasure at a tattoo convention.
HEAVY SNOW HAN KANG
Kyungha-ya. That was the entirety of Inseon’s message: my name.
REPRISE
Reckoning with Donald Trump's return to power.
WHAT'S YOUR PARENTING-FAILURE STYLE?
Whether you’re horrifying your teen with nauseating sex-ed analogies or watching TikToks while your toddler eats a bagel from the subway floor, face it: you’re flailing in the vast chasm of your child’s relentless needs.
COLOR INSTINCT
Jadé Fadojutimi, a British painter, sees the world through a prism.
THE FAMILY PLAN
The pro-life movement’ new playbook.
President for Sale - A survey of today's political ads.
On a mid-October Sunday not long ago sun high, wind cool-I was in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, for a book festival, and I took a stroll. There were few people on the streets-like the population of a lot of capital cities, Harrisburg's swells on weekdays with lawyers and lobbyists and legislative staffers, and dwindles on the weekends. But, on the façades of small businesses and in the doorways of private homes, I could see evidence of political activity. Across from the sparkling Susquehanna River, there was a row of Democratic lawn signs: Malcolm Kenyatta for auditor general, Bob Casey for U.S. Senate, and, most important, in white letters atop a periwinkle not unlike that of the sky, Kamala Harris for President.
