Satirizing the Blues: The Best Original Song Category and Its Lack of Originality

There’s no category of the Academy Awards that isn’t without its share of disappointments, even the smaller ones. I’m still perplexed by how the generation-spanning Watchmen didn’t even get a Best Costume Design nomination (let alone in a year that saw The Young Victoria emerge victorious). Yet one category that consistently hits false notes is, ironically, the Best Original Song.

Every few years, a song from a movie becomes a genuine hit. In 1997, nothing was going to beat Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” from Titanic – not even Elliott Smith’s far more poignant and powerful “Miss Misery” from Good Will Hunting. The quasi-throwback “Skyfall” reflected Skyfall‘s return to a classier Bond that made it a franchise changer. And Frozen‘s “Let It Go” was and still is a legitimate phenomenon.

But generally? Not really. Was Slumdog Millionaire‘s “Jai Ho” really that memorable? (And that was a year where Jon Brion’s beautiful ode to loneliness and the desperation to form a personal connection, “Little Person” from Synecdoche, New York, didn’t even get a nomination.) Sure, this year “Everything is Awesome” from The LEGO Movie is the given winner (that is, if it can beat out the combined powers of John Legend and Common), but it hardly rose the level of mass recognition.

However, one area of this category that the Academy Awards regularly shies away from is what I call “satire songs.” These aren’t “parody” songs, in a “Weird Al” Yankovic vein. Nor are they generally funny songs, as in they usually don’t intend to make the listener laugh. But neither are they entirely “serious.” They exist somewhere in a middle ground, but are just as deserving of recognition, and some (like me) might even argue more so, as their cinematic contemporaries.

One of the most notable recent “satire” songs was “Please Mr. Kennedy” from Inside Llewyn Davis. Although not even eligible for Oscar consideration, it’s one of the best examples of this genre. It expertly apes the style of 1950’s/1960’s novelty songs rather than mocking them or acting superior to them. It does it so well that it could easily fit in the canon of “The Purple People Eater” and “Witch Doctor.” Is it a “good” song? Short answer: no, but yes. It’s style/era appropriate (which is exceedingly difficult to do without injecting any postmodern cynicism) while also being one of the most memorable parts of a truly great film.

Although Inside Llewyn Davis had one such song amidst a bevy of folk classics, others playing the satire song game accomplish the even more remarkable feat of doing this across an entire soundtrack. South Park‘s Trey Parker and Matt Stone pulled this off twice. First with the bonafide musical South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut, which earned a nomination for “Blame Canada” (presumably because the attention-grabbing “Uncle Fucker” couldn’t be performed at the ceremony). Then with Team America: World Police, which got zero attention from the Oscars. But over a decade later, it’s safe to say that “America: Fuck Yeah” and “Freedom Isn’t Free” have more of a legacy than “Al otro lado del río” from The Motorcycle Diaries.

More recent comedy films have also successfully walked this line. The non-nominated Get Him To The Greek produced an entire soundtrack of songs from its fictional characters Aldous Snow (Russell Brand, the only time he’s been bearable) and Jackie Q (Rose Byrne, in possibly the first time audiences realized she could be funny). Songs like “Ring ‘Round” (taking on the sexually-charged female pop genre) and “African Child (Trapped in Me)” (taking on self-indulgent singers who think themselves as the poster child for a cause) mix commentary with entirely valid rock songs that impressively can exist outside of the film’s context.

The most striking performance this area goes to Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story. This brilliant biopic satire has original songs perfectly lampooning genres of music across multiple decades. While the titular “Walk Hard” is the film’s version of the popular early output from the iconic Sun Studios (home to Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, and others), one does not realize how remarkable the film’s achievement is until you delve deeper into Cox’s canon. He further adopts the Johnny Cash persona with the outlaw country “Guilty as Charged” and the “A Boy Named Sue”-ish “Hole in My Pants,” but later transforms into late 1960’s Bob Dylan with the part gibberish “Royal Jelly” and anti-establishment (I think?) “Farmer Glickstein.” And the film concludes with “Beautiful Ride,” the perfect summary for most every musical biopic. (Moreover, the extended soundtrack features him transforming the anti-war anthem “Billy, Don’t Be a Hero” into a poppy disco hit.)

It’s rare for the Academy Awards to nominate anything along these lines, but these songs are frequently more memorable and more artful than the collection of Generic Disney Songs and dirges that the Academy seems to favor. They are genuinely good pieces of music which, most importantly, contribute to the film. In the same way that a great score adds to the ambiance, a great original song can punctuate a moment or an emotion. This year, “I Love You All” from Frank serves as the perfect emotional crux to one of the best movies of the year. No nomination. In 1999, “You’ll Be in My Heart” from Tarzan got the win in over not only the original cast recording of South Park: BLU, but the gut punch of a closing song “Save Me” from Magnolia (not to mention every other song from that soundtrack).

While satirical songs might not have the emotional resonance of an Aimee Mann tune, they are still truly great pieces of music and truly great components to a film. A wholly original soundtrack done well is as impressive as a fantastic screenplay. These songs play a more important role in their respective films than whatever is played over the closing credits; they are integral to that movie’s DNA. And there are entire albums of them. But in the same way that the Best Movie Oscar won’t change your favorite movie of the year, a Best Original Song Oscar won’t change the songs that stick with you or the soundtracks you still listen to. It would just be nice for the Academy to recognize the artistry that goes into them.