Let me begin by stating that I don't believe Michael B. Jordan should have received an Oscar nomination for his performance in Creed. He was very good -- Jordan has been very good in many things thus far in his young career. But there were at least five leading performances that I found more captivating. So if I were voting for Oscar nominations, I would not have chosen Jordan.
On the other hand, I would have nominated Jordan as Best Actor two years ago for Fruitvale Station, and I may have voted to give him the award. Not that anyone asked.
Jordan's particular situation describes one of the many problems faced by actors of color, at least inasmuch as it relates to the Academy Awards. Those awards, begun ninety years ago as a marketing ploy by the major Hollywood studios, have become crucial for a variety of reasons. There is no doubt that they can help both movies and individual artists economically. They ensure the winner's place in history (although I'm not sure that Mrs. Miniver's win in 1942 has done much to enhance its reputation.) And they provide an important cultural snapshot for future generations. For those who think they reward artistic merit, that is an iffy proposition with regards to awards of any variety. They do, however, provide a glimpse of what we thought was significant and meritorious at a given moment in history.
When he explained his decision to boycott this year's Oscar ceremony, despite being presented with an honorary award back in November, Spike Lee got to the heart of the matter, "As I See It," Lee wrote, "The Academy Awards Is Not Where The "Real" Battle Is. It's In The Executive Office Of The Hollywood Studios..." I think most people who look closely at this issue see the nominations as a symptom of a problem, and not a problem itself. When minorities are more adequately represented amongst studio heads, producers, directors, and writers, then more worthy projects and roles will be created, and more nominations and awards will follow.
It's easy for me to argue that. I don't know anyone who would disagree. What's harder for me is to appraise my own biases when it comes to considering what is worthy of an award. After the nominations were announced, I looked at my "top 5" in each of the four acting categories. I had two actors of color among the twenty spots, both in supporting roles. Idris Elba from Beasts of No Nation (a movie that I would have nominated for Best Picture) and Angela Bassett for Chi-Raq (a performance that got almost no attention, even from those who were offering suggestions of non-white actors worthy of a nomination.) In total, out of the twenty nomination slots, I would have replaced half of them, mostly with other Caucasian actors.
If I looked to my "next five," in each category, Abraham Attah, Shameik Moore, Teyonah Price, Jason Mitchell, and Mya Taylor would have been on my list.
But not Michael B. Jordan.
Now, for better or worse, I'm just one guy with one opinion, and the fact that I liked but didn't love Creed as much as a lot of other people did, barely matters. But as I examined my reactions to the movie and to the awards, I did manage one realization. When Jordan was unfairly (in my mind) shafted for his brilliant performance in Fruitvale Station, I heard from at least a few industry friends that the movie was too small and that he was too much of an unknown to merit such a prestigious honor. Fine. Everyone has to pay his dues. But he is better known now. Creed was a huge movie -- bordering on "event" status. No one saw Fruitvale. Loads of people saw Creed. He wasn't recognized for either.
This, no doubt, adds to the frustration of actors of color trying to gain recognition. Which route do you take? How do you break through?
I suppose somewhere in the world there are awards which are primarily designed to actually honor the "best" in whatever field they are judging. But the Oscars are like most of the awards, or All Pro teams, or People Magazine 30 Under 30 lists. They exist first and foremost to stir up conversation. To give us an idea of where we stand. In a sense, the all-white Oscars are doing exactly what they are supposed to do - making us aware of a problem that, as Spike Lee notes, exists many stories above the stage of the Dolby Theatre.
I won't fight over Michael B. Jordan in Creed. I'll fight for him in Fruitvale Station. As a white man, I can't say I'll take it personally. But I won't stop fighting either.