“The Starship Enterprise is not a collection of motion picture sets or a model used in visual effects. It is a very real vehicle: one designed for storytelling. You, the audience, furnish its propulsion. With a wondrous leap of imagination, you make it into a spaceship that can take us into the far reaches of the galaxy and sometimes the depths of the human soul….”
- Gene Roddenberry
Images from Doug Drexler’s magnificent book “Ships of the line”. You really need to get this book!
During college, Lin-Manuel Miranda and a friend used to improvise interpretative dance tributes to best picture nominees at their annual Oscar party. “It was a lot of breathing and rolling around,” recalls the creator of the Broadway smash Hamilton. “We had a great Seabiscuit dance one year.”
For the New York-born son of Puerto Rican parents — his father a political consultant, his mother a psychologist — it was just another phase of a lifelong fascination with the Oscars that began when he was growing up in the Inwood section of Manhattan, playing and replaying the telecasts that his family recorded on their VCR. At 37, Miranda is about to cross the threshold from superfan to participant: “How Far I’ll Go,” which he wrote for the Disney film Moana, is nominated for original song, and on Feb. 26, Miranda (with his mother) will attend his first Academy Awards.
It’s an auspicious step in a career that will see him star with Emily Blunt and Colin Firth in Disney’s 2018 Mary Poppins Returns and collaborate with composer Alan Menken on the studio’s live-action The Little Mermaid, one of Miranda’s favorite films and, he reveals here, the gateway to his Oscars obsession.
My brain is a compendium of Oscar moments: Tom Hanks’ beautiful acceptance speech when he won best actor for Philadelphia in 1994. Roberto Benigni climbing over chairs and wanting to make love to everybody in the world when Life Is Beautiful won best foreign-language film in 1999. Kim Basinger presenting in 1990 and telling the audience that one of the best films of the year, Do the Right Thing, was not nominated. For her to take a stand, 25 years before #OscarsSoWhite, was incredible — and impressive because time has shown the prescience of that film.
I expect we’ll see more of that this year. It’s a political time, so I imagine the Oscars will look exactly like your Twitter or Facebook feed. Why should we ignore for three hours what we’re talking about 24 hours a day?
The Oscars were always a family affair when I was a kid. One sort of unintentional tradition we had every year was during the “In Memoriam” part of the show. My family called it the “She died?” section because my dad, who is pop culture-oblivious, would always go, “She died? He died? She died?!” the whole time. So, it was very sad and yet also very funny watching my dad catch up.
When I was a kid, the Oscars felt like this impossibly larger-than-life thing. The first time I felt like I had a horse in the race was in 1990. I was 10, and The Little Mermaid was up for best song and best score. They did that crazy “Under the Sea” number with the late, great Geoffrey Holder and dudes in scuba outfits tap-dancing with flippers. We had a tradition of recording the show on our VHS, and I must have watched it a million and a half times.
There was also an amazing Chuck Workman montage at the beginning of the show that depicted 100 years of filmmaking with classic scores. I was already in love with movies, but this was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.
That was the period when Billy Crystal was hosting, and I would memorize his musical spoofs of the year’s top films. He did them with Marc Shaiman, whom I’m working with right now on Mary Poppins Returns… I was a huge fan of those moments and musical numbers — they showed a genuine love of movies while still poking fun at them. I may also be the only person in America who laughed his ass off to “Uma, Oprah. Oprah, Uma.” David Letterman’s commitment to that bit was enough to put it over the top for me. He didn’t care if no one got it. In his head, it was funny.
Hosting the Oscars is not a thing I would ever want to do… You always have to do this dance as a host: You’re playing to a billion people at home, and you’re playing to anxious contestants in a room, and that’s an insanely hard thing to divide. It’s the most thankless task in the world. I have a pretty healthy ego, but it does not extend in that direction. I’d much rather be the guy writing the opening tune than having to deliver it.
Another Oscar moment that really stuck with me was when Whoopi won her best supporting actress for Ghost. I’ll never forget, at the top of her acceptance speech she said, “Ever since I was a little kid, I wanted this,” which is so rare. Then she said, “As a little kid, I lived in the projects, and you’re the people I watched. You’re the people who made me want to be an actor.” For me, it was like she was saying, “If you want this, you can get it, too. I’m proof that you can.”
I had been seeing myself in this world since I was old enough to do anything, and it was as if she reached through the screen to talk to me. I was that kid. Even my mother used to say, “Remember what Whoopi said.”
There’s a kid in the middle of nowhere sitting there, living for Tony performances singin’ and flippin’ along with the Pippins and Wickeds and Kinkys, Matildas and Mormonses / So we might reassure that kid and do something to spur that kid / ‘Cause I promise you all of us up here tonight, We were that kid and now we’re bigger
Another of my favorite moments was in 2005, when they had Antonio Banderas sing “Al Otro Lado Del Rio” from The Motorcycle Diaries, which was nominated for best song. And then when Jorge Drexler, who composed it, won, he went onstage and sang it, like, “This is how it really goes.” It was so funny and ballsy and great. I’m happy whenever Latinos win anything, so I was thrilled by both performances.
I can’t tell you what it feels like in that room because this will be my first time at the Oscars, but I can tell you why the Oscars matter. It’s a night when the arts and artists are formally honored, and this recognition is seen by millions of people across the country and around the world. The show inspires people to keep pursuing their craft, or to seek out the nominated films or the overall body of work of the nominees, and through that exposure, people gain a greater appreciation of what the art of filmmaking brings to our culture.
Te quiero aunque ahora no viene a cuento aunque no te lo demuestro Te quiero aunque parezca que me olvide aunque creas que no es cierto eso es lo que siento Me gusta pensar que me gustas saber que te quiero Que bueno, que bueno!!
La vida cabe en un clic
en un abrir y cerrar
en cualquier copo de avena
Se trata de distinguir
lo que vale de lo que no vale la pena
Y a mí me vale con que me des
poco más que nada
A mí me basta con una de tus miradas
Que viva la ciencia, que viva la poesía, qué viva siento mi lengua cuando tu lengua está sobre la lengua mía.
El agua está en el barro, el barro en el ladrillo, el ladrillo está en la pared y en la pared tu fotografía.
Es cierto que no hay arte sin emoción, y que no hay precisión sin artesanía como tampoco hay guitarra sin tecnología. Tecnología del nylon para las primas, tecnología del metal para el clavijero. La prensa, la gubia y el barniz: las herramientas del carpintero.
El cantautor y su computadora, el pastor y su afeitadora, el despertador que ya está anunciando la aurora, y en el telescopio se demora la última estrella.
La máquina la hace el hombre, y es lo que el hombre hace con ella.
El arado, la rueda, el molino, la mesa en que apoyo el vaso de vino, las curvas de la montaña rusa, la semicorchea y hasta la semifusa, el té, los ordenadores y los espejos, los lentes para ver de cerca y de lejos, la cucha del perro, la mantequilla, la yerba, el mate y la bombilla.
Estás conmigo, estamos cantando a la sombra de nuestra parra una canción que dice que uno solo conserva lo que no amarra. Y sin tenerte, te tengo a vos y tengo a mi guitarra.
Hay tantas cosas, yo solo preciso dos: mi guitarra y vos.
Hay cines, hay trenes, hay cacerolas, hay fórmulas hasta para describir la espiral de una caracola. Hay más: hay tráfico, créditos, cláusulas, salas vip. Hay cápsulas hipnóticas y tomografías computarizadas, hay condiciones para la constitución de una sociedad limitada, hay biberones, hay obúses, hay tabúes, hay besos, hay hambre, hay sobrepeso, hay curas de sueño y tisanas, hay drogas de diseño y perros adictos a las drogas en las aduanas.
Hay manos capaces de fabricar herramientas con las que se hacen máquinas para hacer ordenadores que a su vez diseñan máquinas que hacen herramientas para que las use la mano.
Hay escritas infinitas palabras: zen, gol, bang, rap, Dios, fin.
Hay tantas cosas, yo solo preciso dos: mi guitarra y vos.