Andrea Riseborough has been nominated for best actress.
(Picture: Getty Images)Poor Andrea Riseborough. Last week, a glitzy, last-minute “grassroots” campaign saw her catapulted into the Oscars Best Actress race for her performance in the indie movie, To Leslie. It did indeed raise the Brit’s profile – but for all the wrong reasons.
Simply put, Viola Davis and Danielle Deadwyler had been widely expected to appear on the list; when they didn’t, it became clear that the winner of this coveted prize would not be black. Riseborough is now being equated, by many online fans and cultural commentators, with all that’s non-diverse about the Oscars and the US film industry.
Is it Riseborough’s fault that Hollywood has a racism problem? Of course not. But do we need to talk about that problem? Absolutely yes, we do.
The first and last time a black woman won this prize was in 2001 (Halle Berry for Monster’s Ball). Seriously. You don’t have to be a conspiracy theorist to find that stat significant.
Admittedly, in the Best Supporting Actress category, the situation is different. Black women, including Davis (in 2017), and Ariana DeBose (in 2022), have covered themselves in glory. And, in 2023, Angela Bassett is widely expected to come out on top, for her blistering turn in Black Panther: Wakanda Forever. But, let’s be honest, that’s not the prize of which actors dream. This trophy rewards performers for being excellent bridesmaids. Why is it next to impossible for a black woman to be the bride?
Davis and Deadwyler deserved to be on that Best Actress list because they are shatteringly good at their jobs. They also appeared in films that made expert use of their talent. If they’d been brilliant in crap films, or crap in brilliant films, (or just plain old shite in garbage), I wouldn’t be writing this piece. No film-lovers, of any colour, want black actors to be celebrated just because they’re black. D’uh! Tokenism is demeaning. The perfectly reasonable goal is a level-playing field.
Anyone who’s seen gritty epic, The Woman King, knows that Davis is magnificent as emotionally damaged West African warrior, Nanisca. Deadwyler is even more impressive, as a mother in free-fall, in civil rights drama Till. The camera is on Deadwyler’s face, for most of the movie, and that face takes us to places that are both awesome and agonising to visit. Basically, as a result of Deadwyler’s skill, Mamie Till’s fear, love and anger set the screen on fire.
I haven’t seen Riseborough in To Leslie (it’s now available on Prime Video and I will definitely seek it out; I love Riseborough: she’s a champ). I have no idea how her turn compares to those of Davis and Deadwyler.
For me, Ana de Armas is the obvious weak link in the nominees line-up, because though she’s extremely watchable as the Marilyn Monroe-like central character, the film itself is facile. In the second half, the 34-year-old Spanish-Cuban mostly staggers around naked. She doesn’t get to act her socks off, because the script’s more interested in her cute body.
That de Armas made the grade, and Davis and Deadwyler aren’t contenders, is supremely depressing. The bigger picture, though, is that, for decades, black actresses have been the victim of an organisation and industry that is happy for them to do well, but not too well.
Whether change comes from within or without, one thing is clear. It must happen immediately.
