The Golden Raspberry Awards – better known as the “Razzies” – in countering The Academy Awards, “honor” the worsts of the cinematic year.
Disregarding Glee actor Chris Colfer’s coverage-outkicking one-line premise – that “every time a movie gets made, it’s a miracle” – means the organization has no choice but to hide behind the claim they conduct its business with an all-in-good-fun aim. Yet, here we are, in the year 2022, and they’ve rescinded both a newly introduced special category, and an accolade “awarded” long ago, due to accusations of tone-deafness that subsequently produced universal blowback.
Former A-List mainstay Bruce Willis had mostly migrated to direct-to-DVD fare this past decade to make as many films as he could before rapidly fading into retirement. His family revealed in a statement last week he’d leave acting behind due to an Aphasia diagnosis – his declining cognitive state retroactively declared an open industry secret that had been brewing of late. The Razzies responded by axing their “Worst Bruce Willis Performance in a 2021 Movie” award, albeit with a strikethrough on their Wikipedia page. It’s the first time they’ve personalized their typical mean-spirited dreck this bluntly, though The Shining (1980) actress Shelley Duvall would beg to differ.
In the same breath as the Willis reversal, Duvall’s “Worst Supporting Actress” win as Wendy Torrance was also overturned. This came after decades of routinely discussed, and even self-penned recollections, of the psychological trauma she suffered while playing the role; not to mention, the hit her career took when no director nor paying customer felt confident in rooting for someone adorned with the “scarlet R.”
Even so, the Razzies are not out of the doghouse and won’t soon be. What they stand for represents everything that is wrong with Hollywood and those hopped way the hell upon it. Is this the thanks consummate professionals receive for sacrificing their health and wellbeing simply to entertain you?
Razzies: a virus most average moviegoers don’t realize they have been infected with. The more critics compile their cream of the crop-to-rock ‘em, then sock ‘em to the bottom “yearly’s,” the more the Razzies gain steam as shadow-realm Oscars; the place where dreams go to die. You know what they say about rubbernecking and car wrecks? The same is applied to the consensus-designated “big-screen leeches,” but with twisted fervor – ripped to shreds from both ends, ever in jest.
Just because they feel like being extra-vengeful against its foremost enemies, doesn’t mean you have to follow suit. Whether it’s taking repeated digs at action auteur Michael Bay for making more unironic movie magic pulled from a radio gaga hat than the creatively abstaining gatekeepers and taboo-decreers care to admit; refusing to give once-$300 Million Box-Office King Adam Sandler and his merry band of Happy Madison manchildren their day in court, even if it’s because they don’t have health insurance or can’t boil an egg; or mocking four-time Razzie recipient Cocktail, despite the 1988 Tom Cruise/Elisabeth Shue romp actually playing better than most contemporary “fresh-certified” features. If bad movies have the power to single-handedly revive The Beach Boys, then I don’t want to watch a good one.
Why bring forth the blacklisting of artists just for (subjectively) missing? Everybody deserves to be human. To be flawed. And to earn fair critique that doesn’t cross the point of no return. For all this talk of “cancel culture,” it’s as maddening as it is damn-near illogical to call for the killing of your heroes sheerly because they are not operating at the level they once were. Is no one safe? Is this thing on?
You can’t put a movie on trial if it’s only crime was that you didn’t like it. And you can’t send an actor to the chair because he can’t die hard for you anymore. Retire an Expendable or live long enough to see yourself overly lampooned for never signing on to become a Marvel villain. Long live Bruce Willis and down with the disparaged Razzie board’s unchecked mental illness.
If you don’t know, now you know; the Razzies have got to go. That is the message. This is The Messenger. Merry moviegoing, you rotten tomatoes.
