The Year Of the Woman, Finally

(by Stephen Holden)
The year was 1993, and in the lexicon of Hollywood hype, it was the
Year of the Woman. As the glitterati thronged into the Dorothy
Chandler Pavilion for the 65th Annual Academy Awards, the orchestra
blared out that pedophilia-tinged ode to blooming fem ininity
"Thank Heaven for Little Girls." During the show, Liza Minnelli
belted an embarrassing piece of special material proclaiming
Hillary Rodham Clinton leader of the drive for women to become
pilots and auto mechanics. Later, a tribute to great ladies
of the screen somehow forgot to mention Lillian Gish and Marlene
Dietrich. Talk about condescension!

As for the awards that season, it was hardly a shining year for
women. Emma Thompson, who won for "Howards End," beat out Susan
Sarandon ("Lorenzo's Oil"), Catherine Deneuve ("Indochine"), Mary
McDonnell ("Passion Fish") and Michelle Pfeiffer ("Love Fi eld").
Solid performances all, but not the stuff of greatness.

But as any Hollywood marketing whiz worth his weight in celluloid
will tell you, timing is everything. If the Academy of Motion
Picture Arts and Sciences had only waited a few years, there might
have been something to crow about in terms of meaty femal e roles.
As Oscar fever mounts this year, men (with the exception of almost
sure things like Ralph Fiennes, Woody Harrelson and Daniel Day-
Lewis) will be almost an afterthought as voters, for the first time
in recent memory, weigh the performances of at least twice as many
actresses as there are niches to put them in.

Here are three possible scenarios for what will happen. In the
first, it is the year of the grande dame, and Hollywood draws its
wagons into a circle, freezing out all but the crustiest old-guard
divas. Leading the pack is Shirley MacLaine, reprising o ne of her
most beloved characters, Aurora Greenway, in "The Evening Star,"
the sudsy sequel to "Terms of Endearment." Coming up from behind is
Debbie Reynolds, as plucky as ever, playing Albert Brooks's
eccentric mom in his new comedy, "Mother." Gaining on them is Gena
Rowlands as a noble widow with two grown children bravely striking
out on her own in "Unhook the Stars."

For best supporting actress in the Year of the Grande Dame, figure
Julie Christie's performance as Gertrude in Kenneth Branagh's four-
hour "Hamlet," Lauren Bacall as Barbra Streisand's dragon mother
with a heart of butter in "The Mirror Has Two Faces" and Mary Tyler
Moore as a neurotic New York matron busting her bustier in "Flirting
With Disaster."

The second scenario focuses on what used to be called the New
Hollywood, with honors heaped on mainstream stars with classy
images. Winona Ryder, already a Hollywood favorite, is nominated
once again for "The Crucible," and Nicole Kidman, overlooked la st
year for "To Die For," is recognized for "The Portrait of a Lady."
Add Meg Ryan for "Courage Under Fire," Goldie Hawn for "Everyone Says
I Love You," Joan Allen (who was nominated last year) for "The
Crucible," the newcomer Gwyneth Paltrow for "Emma," and Diane Keaton
(who carries off the difficult feat of embodying goodness without
going all misty-eyed and gooey) and Meryl Streep (a perennial nominee)
for "Marvin's Room," and you have a Who's Who of Hollywood superwomen
competing in the "having it all " sweepstakes.

In the third scenario, the year of the woman is also the year of the
wild card. The British actresses Brenda Blethyn ("Secrets and Lies")
and Emily Watson ("Breaking the Waves") are joined by Courtney Love,
nominated for her crash-and-burn portrayal of Larry Flynt's drug-
addicted wife in "The People vs. Larry Flynt," Laura Dern for her
glue-sniffing loser in the satire "Citizen Ruth" and Lili Taylor for
her portrayal of a would-be assassin in "I Shot Andy Warhol." Bringing
some aristocratic glamour and political fervor, respectively, into
this motley bunch are two more British actresses, Kristin Scott Thomas
("The English Patient") and Helen Mirren ("Some Mother's Son"). Finally
there is Frances McDormand as an intrepid poker-faced police detective
wit h a comically broad Minnesota accent in "Fargo." And, oh yes, that
wild card Madonna has to figure somewhere for "Evita."

But in Oscar history, the greatest performances often go unrecognized.
Hollywood is so notoriously shortsighted, that the shattering
performances by Ms. Blethyn and Ms. Watson in their small independent
films may not register. Ms. Blethyn's character, a dithery English
factory worker who flutters about her drab London flat in a state of
tearful agitation, is not the sort of noble crusader Hollywood notices
when it recognizes working-class women.

If Ms. Watson's character in "Breaking the Waves" belongs to a favorite
Hollywood archetype -- the whore with a heart of gold -- she is a bit
too loony for comfort. The character conducts long, animated
conversations with God in which He speaks through her. And her descent
into prostitution has nothing to do with financial need, male
exploitation or even excess hormones. She sells her body to save the
life of a quadriplegic husband whose will to live is sustained by her
graphic sexual accounts.

It may be the year of the woman, but a modern-day amalgam of Mary
Magdalene and Joan of Arc, whose death literally sets heavenly bells
to ringing, may be too much celestial hoopla even for bally-hooey
Hollywood.