As the ripples from Best Original Score spread, the 61st Academy Awards quietly neared its close.
When Anne Archer finished introducing the final Best Picture nominee, Working Girl, Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn took the stage together to present Best Actor.
Onstage and off, inside the hall and out, everyone who had just witnessed a riveting showdown held their breath once more.
After so playful banter, the couple took turns reading the nominees: "Gene Hackman, Mississippi Burning; Tom Hanks, Big; Dustin Hoffman, Rain Man; Edward Jas Olmos, Stand and Deliver; Robert De Niro, Dead Poets Society."
The broadcast cut to each of the five n in turn.
Kurt opened the envelope. He and Goldie milked the suspense, then announced in unison: "The Oscar for Best Actor goes to Dustin Hoffman, Rain Man. Congratulations, this is Dustin's second."
Applause erupted.
As Hoffman made his way to the stage, so stood imdiately; the ovation grew thunderous. Soon the entire hall was on its feet, clapping for over a minute before it subsided.
Hoffman hugged the couple, took the statuette from Kurt, and stepped to the microphone. Looking out at the standing crowd, he said, "Thank you, thank you all."
He waited for everyone to sit, gripped the Oscar tighter, and continued, "Honestly, this wasn't easy."
A ripple of knowing laughter swept the room whether he ant it or not.
"First, I have to thank CAA president Michael Ovitz. Without him, there would be no Rain Man. This script had been in developnt for three years, nearly dying countless tis. Whenever we thought it was dead, Michael stepped in with unwavering support. It's because of his tireless efforts that we got this film on screen. Then there's Barry, he took over when director after director walked away. He created this movie. And Tom what a partner…"
Unlike the brisk technical speeches, Hoffman's ran long, three full minutes. He recounted the entire "behind-the-scenes saga," naming everyone from Ovitz to Levinson's regular editor, painting a picture of endless struggle and heroic contributions. All credit went elsewhere.
He gazed upward at tis, seeming detached, yet he deftly avoided any ntion of Daenerys Entertainnt.
CAA had corralled most of Hollywood's top stars in recent years,many of them actor-branch voters with a network deeper than even old-guard WMA, let alone three-year-old Daenerys.
The Daenerys team had braced for this.
Still, hearing Hoffman onstage, Amy and the others couldn't hide their grim expressions.
Everyone in the industry knew that without Simon green-lighting Rain Man, the project might still be languishing. Now the credit seed to belong entirely to others.
When Hoffman finally ca backstage, the CAA contingent sward him. Daenerys watched coldly; pleasantries were long past.
Only Best Actress, Director, and Picture remained. Ira quietly asked Amy if they should leave early. Actress was irrelevant to them; after the Actor result, he no longer believed the big ones would swing their way.
Amy shook her head, arms folded, eyes fixed on the backstage monitor.
Two months earlier, the Golden Globes had infamously triple-tied for Actress; the Oscars avoided any such farce. Jodie Foster, as in the original tiline, claid her first statuette for The Accused—a hard-won triumph for the forr child star after her earlier ordeal.
Watching Foster's speech, WMA vice president Jonathan Friedman felt his own mood sink.
Foster had once been a WMA client.
The agency's decline hadn't reversed despite his discovery of teenage prodigy Simon Westeros. Clients kept leaving.
Last year, when fellow VP Ed Limato jumped to ICM with l Gibson, Denzel Washington, Michelle Pfeiffer, and others, he'd taken Foster too. Within a year, she'd turned her lukewarm career around and, at twenty-five, won the Oscar.
Friedman clenched a fist.
It wouldn't last much longer.
WMA president Norman Brokaw was stepping down soon.
While many agents lost marquee nas, Friedman had held on to Brian De Palma, Robert Duvall, Billy Crystal; landed Robert De Niro; nurtured Sandra Bullock and Matt Dillon; and overseen Simon's dazzling rise.
He was the obvious successor, and felt he deserved it.
If the old guard played gas and gave the job to soone else, he'd walk. A fifty-year-old agency would then be finished.
Onscreen, Dennis Quaid and Michelle Pfeiffer took the stage. Friedman refocused.
Even without hope, Amy and the others stared at the monitor.
Penultimate award: Best Director.
"A great director is like a great captain, the heart and soul of the crew. Without that guidance, no ship reaches its destination."
"I'm honored to introduce tonight's five captains. Whichever wins, the others shine just as brightly."
"The nominees for Best Director are:
Mike Nichols, Working Girl;
Charles Crichton, A Fish Called Wanda;
Barry Levinson, Rain Man;
Alan Parker, Mississippi Burning;
Peter Weir, Dead Poets Society."
Pfeiffer in a striking red V-neck gown, glanced playfully at the audience while smoothly opening the envelope blind, sliding out the card, then looking down.
Surprise flickered across her face, quickly replaced by a smile as she showed the result to Quaid.
Quaid, a veteran since the seventies finally hitting his stride in middle age, knew all the gossip.
He took the envelope, studied it theatrically, and finally announced what many had suspected but hated to believe:
"The Oscar for Best Director goes to Peter Weir, Dead Poets Society."
A brief hush, then applause.
Backstage, Ira didn't leap as he had for Score, but he raised a quiet fist and bumped it with Amy and the others.
In the hall, an elated Peter Weir hurried to the stage.
The nominee reel had ended, but the live cara swung back to Barry Levinson, catching his unmistakable flash of anger and disappointnt.
This had been Levinson's first Director nod and his best shot.
No one had believed in Rain Man; its unexpected triumph proved how unpredictable filmmaking could be.
Missing this peak chance, it was hard to imagine Levinson ever returning to the podium.
Rain Man was already his high-water mark; anything less later would invite unfavorable comparisons. Even another nomination would likely go unrewarded.
As Weir gave an emotional speech, people inside and outside the hall began piecing it together.
Weir had been nominated once before for 1985's Witness, giving him an edge over first-tir Levinson. The win was surprising but not inexplicable.
Rain Man was a phenonon, yes, but Dead Poets Society was also exceptional. And Daenerys had waged an all-out awards campaign.
Rain Man hadn't excelled technically, so losing those earlier awards made sense. Yet Simon's Score win against veteran heavyweights, proved Daenerys's campaign had teeth.
Actor had slipped away largely because Daenerys lacked leverage there.
De Niro, nominated for Dead Poets Society, already owned two Best Actor statuettes, an unofficial cap for most perforrs. A third would require sothing even bigger than Rain Man, likely decades away.
anwhile, Hoffman's performance was flawless, as was the film itself.
Spreading votes between De Niro and Hoffman had diluted both, but with the other three nominees weaker, De Niro couldn't win anyway. Hoffman's victory felt inevitable.
Thus, his win wasn't truly a Daenerys loss.
Now, with Weir taking Director, many realized: in this shadow war between Daenerys and CAA, Daenerys had actually co out ahead.
Hoffman had claid an award he was always favored for.
Weir's win, however, ca after fierce jockeying against a CAA machine dominant in both acting and directing circles for over a decade.
Against such odds, a young studio had prevailed, plus Simon's personal Score statuette. Clear proof of a successful campaign.
Word of Weir's win spread fast. Inside the Shrine Auditorium, the ceremony continued toward its finale.
Best Picture was presented by last year's Actress winner, Cher.
Another break from tradition: no host, and the usual "previous Actress presents Actor" pattern abandoned.
No suspense in the final result: Rain Man took Best Picture.
Daenerys had submitted two producers: Levinson's regular, Mark Johnson, and their own representative, ensuring the studio would keep one statuette for permanent display at headquarters.
With Best Picture, the 61st Academy Awards concluded.
But the real aftershocks were only beginning.
[TL/N: niggaaaa, wdym the real aftershocks were only beginning? i'm done translating for today! But seeing this...]
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