The Oscar Nominations were announced today, and Andy Serkis was left off the list. The actor was highly praised for his motion-capture performance as Caesar the chimp in Rise of the Planet of the Apes, and there was a strong campaign to get him recognised in this year’s award ceremony, but ultimately it all came to naught. We can’t say it’s any surprise.

Serkis’s achievement is undeniable. He’s pioneered a new form of acting, delivering a string of memorable performances in films from The Lord of the Rings, King Kong, and The Adventures of Tintin. His role as Caesar is multi-faceted and heart-rending, and doubly impressive given that he’s practically silent for the duration of the film. But his mo-capped output is a troubling matter for the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.

 

Heads in the Sand

To allow him entry to any of the acting categories is the beginning of a complex debate over the nature of acting itself, and what constitutes a live action performance. The boundary between live action and computer animated imagery has been repeatedly blurred, but the Academy would rather bury their collective heads in the sand than face up to the issue.

Let’s put things in perspective. Nobody really looks to the Oscars as a true barometer of cinematic quality. Dances With Wolves beat Goodfellas to the Best Movie gong in 1990 – which of those two films have been more enduring in popular memory? But the Oscars are an important presence in the landscape of film, if only for Hollywood to decide amongst themselves what the best films of the year have been, and provide debate to the wider world about how wrong they are.

And there’s also the fact that the medium of film is habitually changed by technology. The transition from silent film to the talkies; from black & white to colour; from film to digital; from 2D to 3D, there’s been a steady march of progress, and commercial imperatives have driven their assimilation. Why should mo-cap acting be any different?

 

Tired Objections

There is an argument that the performance of Caesar that we see on the screen is not the work of one man, but the work of many. Serkis strapped on the suit and bounced around the set on all fours, but it took a sizeable team of artists to articulate the musculature, skin, and hair. That may be the case, but is that really any different from the standard film crew which provides the sound, lighting, and other effects that optimise a live-action performance?

Also, this line of reasoning presumes that mo-cap acting is a solitary activity, recorded in isolation from the other cast members. If you watch the making-of featurette embedded above, you’ll see that isn’t the case. Serkis fully interacted with other members of the cast, eliciting an emotional response from them that couldn’t be achieved by other means.

Finally, when it comes to awarding a performance where you don’t actually see the actor on-screen, there is a precedent, of sorts. In 1981, John Hurt was Oscar-nominated for Best Actor for his performance as John Merrick in David Lynch’s The Elephant Man. Playing a character who was horribly disfigured, Hurt’s own features were completely buried under prosphetics. Yet despite not being able to recognise the man beneath the make-up, his acting was extraordinary.

 

The Artist and The Apes

Another argument is that… actually, we can’t be bothered to rehash the tired objections of a tired bunch of has-beens. Just give Serkis his due, and recognise his achievement now, instead of several decades from now, where mo-cap acting will be the standard practice and not demeaned as a strange, illusory anomaly. Serkis’s co-star from RotPofA, James Franco, has written an open letter to Deadline making that very same point.

The supreme irony, of course, is that this year’s runaway candidate for Best Film Oscar is The Artist. It’s a film about the silent era of Hollywood, shot in black and white and completely without dialogue. It’s a great, great film, and deserves to be showered with accolades. But the signal that Hollywood will be giving out is reactionary and conservative, celebrating one film that looks to past glories whilst simultaneously shutting out another film technique that defies easy categorisation.