Staff Writer Marta Bueno Arcos explores the repetitive narratives that dominate the Oscar season, questioning whether these tired tropes undermine cinema’s most coveted accolade.
Awards season is back, and with the 98th Academy Awards approaching, film buffs and casual watchers alike are once again surrounded by the familiar language of “frontrunners,” “snubs” and “narratives”. Officially, the Oscars are a celebration of cinematic achievement and great performances although the ceremony has become somewhat of a performance in itself. Like any good show, they repeat their greatest hits. Once you notice the patterns, it becomes hard to ignore them.
One of the most persistent narratives is that of the “overdue” veteran: the respected actor who, despite decades of acclaimed work, has never won. Their decoration is framed as the Academy finally correcting a historic mistake. Leonardo DiCaprio’s win for The Revenant (2015) in the Best Actor category did not simply reward that single performance, but served as recognition of two decades of work while rectifying previous snubs.
The comeback story is also a popular trope. These campaigns focus on resilience, personal struggle, and a return to the spotlight. A prime example was Brendan Fraser’s Best Actor win for The Whale (2022). After years away from the spotlight amidst personal struggles and a career downturn, The Academy honoured Fraser’s second act. The response to his comeback made clear that voters were reacting not only to his performance, but also to his return to the industry.
Voters respond to these familiar tropes of redemption and transformation more than technique.
Another awards cliche is the comedian taking on a serious role. The appeal lies in the supposed surprise: that someone known for silliness suddenly reveals hidden depth. Adam Sandler’s dramatic work in Uncut Gems (2019) followed this script closely, and yet the actor was not nominated for an Oscar. Similarly, Robin Williams won his first and only Oscar for Best Supporting Actor for his role in Good Will Hunting (1997). The message from the Academy is clear: comedy may be popular, but drama is what wins trophies.
The clichés don’t end with the stars, they are built into the films themselves. Certain kinds of movies appear tailor-made for the awards bodies and can be categorised as “Oscar bait.” Biographical dramas and period pieces are the most obvious, particularly those about troubled artists, important politicians or major historical events.
Even the ceremony follows a rigid script. If you watch this year, you can tick the boxes in real time. There is the exaggerated shocked face from a winner everyone expected. There is the rapid-fire thank you list cut off mid-sentence by the orchestra. There are tears, trembling voices, and at least one speech that goes political. Between awards, presenters read out stiff jokes that sound like they met their cue cards mere minutes earlier. On the red carpet, hours are spent analysing dresses and suits to answer the all-important: “who wore it best?”
The Oscars are not just a scoreboard; they are a yearly ritual where the industry decides how it sees itself.
So why does all this keep happening? Partly because the hype around the Oscars is not just about the films but also about the glitz, glamour and A-List attendees. Campaigns are not about the strongest performance but about using these narratives to position films in the race. Studios tell stories to sell films to award body voters, and voters respond to these familiar tropes of redemption and transformation more than technique. Narratives help make contenders stand out in a crowded season.
So do these tropes undermine Oscar gold? In some ways, yes. They often reward the best career or best story created offscreen rather than the best performance onscreen. They enable patterns of predictable storytelling and performance tailored to the Academy’s tastes rather than promoting artistic risk taking and exploration. But they also reveal something honest about Hollywood. The Oscars are not just a scoreboard; they are a yearly ritual where the industry decides how it sees itself. And as viewers sit down to watch this March, recognising the patterns doesn’t necessarily ruin the fun, it simply lets us enjoy the show with our eyes open.