The Oscars

The presentation of Oscars -- Hollywood's annual pat on the back to itself--has to be seen to be believed. TIME Correspondent Dwight Whitney, who saw it last week, fought his way through acres of diamonds, mink and glossy black limousines to report:

Everything about this year's Academy Awards show was the biggest. There were more jewels, more big names, more hoopla--and more bleachers for more middle-aged women who arrived early in the day with lunchboxes for a glimpse of the stars. There were 35 Oscars, 16 searchlights (crisscrossing in contrasting shades of white, blue, red and orange), a 66-piece orchestra, 250 policemen, 90 ushers, 50 stagehands, six parking lots and 125 parking-lot attendants. There were three hours of coast-to-coast broadcast and 6,000 popped flashbulbs.

The whole shebang cost the studios $65,000. Metro's top art men, Cedric Gibbons and Jack Smith, personally did the $10,000 "set" stage: a pylon, backed by six Greek columns, and topped with a 5-ft. gilt plaster replica of Oscar. As the evening slunk by, this gaudy setting was filled with some rare gems:

P:| Sam Goldwyn managed, as usual, to get foot in mouth once: taking pains to commend Hoagy Carmichael, he referred to the singer-composer as "Hugo."

P: Film Czar Eric Johnston, who always provides a fragrant oratorical nosegay, was in top form. Movies, he declared, are immortal art--the first new art, in fact, since Greek drama.

P: Cinemactor Ronald Reagan gave from the heart in introducing a reel of excerpts from Oscar-winning films of yesteryear: "This film embodies the glories of our past, the memories of our present and the inspiration for our future." When the film came on, it was running backwards.

P: Olivia de Havilland, in accepting the Best Actress Award (for her work in To Each His Own), came onstage as gauzy and misty-eyed as a Walt Disney angel. She began with a ten-second acceptance speech of simple thanks, fought for control, lost, talked on for another ten seconds and still another. Later, when her sister, Joan Fontaine, rushed backstage to congratulate her, Olivia froze and moved away. (The girls were standoffish even before Joan beat out Olivia for the 1941 Oscar.)

Of the 35 Oscars, Sam Goldwyn's The Best Years of Our Lives won nine--almost all the important ones. The picture itself was Oscared as the best of the year. Sam was Oscared for the year's best contribution to the industry. William Wyler was Oscared for directing Best Years. Fredric March was named the year's best actor for his role in it. Handless Veteran Harold Russell was chosen the best supporting actor, and got another Oscar just on general principles. (Best supporting actress: Anne Baxter in The Razor's Edge.)

When the evening ended, Hollywood had not exactly proved, even to itself, that it was really good in 1946. But it had proved that the Academy vote is nowadays reasonably free from political pressure. There was a time when it was possible for two majors to gang up on one independent (like Samuel Goldwyn) and deal him right out the back door.

There was only one small, embarrassing problem: British movies, which have been pretty good lately. Three minor awards went to British films for scripting and special effects and a "special award" to Producer-Director-Actor Laurence Olivier for his masterly Henry V.

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