Changes in Academy etiquette would make Oscars wilder

If the Super Bowl is the ultimate American spectator sport, the Oscars are the ultimate American spectacle. Vicarious participation — watching on TV — is mandatory, a civic duty nearly on par with voting.

The enormous influence of the Oscars — and Hollywood in general — is undeniable. A friend told me that, given the choice, he would rather be Best Original Screenplay Oscar-winner Alan Ball than Nobel laureate Toni Morrison. Outside of the New Yorker-reading sophisticates, more people have contact with a commercially successful Oscar-winning screenplay than even a Nobel Prize-winning book, hence the screenwriter is able to make a greater impact on society. Hardly surprising, really, when you consider that film is perhaps our greatest cultural export.

Sadly, this year's Oscar ceremony was one of the dullest in years. You know something is wrong when the best acceptance speech is a commercial: Sally Field's hugely entertaining Charles Schwab "you like me, you really like me" spoof was classic.

Host Billy Crystal was generic and safe, and even Cher tried to come respectably attired. (It backfired, as she tripped over the train of her dress.) 'N Sync's pastel-colored suits weren't risky or avant garde, just painful.

I hereby offer the following suggestions for future improvement of Hollywood's greatest display of cleavage, pomp and self-congratulation:

Accept the length — that means you, Billy Crystal. Enough with the jokes about this show being the shortest of the millennium, or the century, or whatever. The Oscars are a four-hour show that inevitably runs long. That's the reason people go to posh seven-course Oscar dinners, or, as in my case, wear their most comfortable pair of sweatpants, chill the Nantucket Nectars and bust out the microwave popcorn. It's supposed to take up your entire evening. The absurdly long length is crucial to the next day's bragging rights.

Bring back the dance numbers. Robin Williams' rendition of South Park's "Blame Canada" — the only Best Original Song nominee to use dancers — brought down the house. There's something beautifully crass about seeing 50 costumed dancers tramp about in two-dimensional cartoon garb. Best Original Song winner Phil Collins' cheesy warbling of "You'll Be in My Heart" would have been vastly improved by the presence of a dewy-eyed Jane and vine-swinging Tarzan.

Improve the "spontaneous" banter between presenters. For such esteemed actors, it's remarkable how unbelievable and stilted they can be when gushing trite cliches about the intricate operations of the editing process. I can't even believe that they've ever been in an editing room. Have the TelePromp-Ter list only the nominees and give the presenters a minute to do with as they please. This will allow the audience to see the actors in a more natural, entertaining light. Jim Carrey — if the Academy ever stops snubbing his performances — could do a revival of his bare-buns talking routine, Jack Palance could demonstrate more of his fitness regime and Roberto Benigni could wax poetic in indecipherable Italianglish. If the actors are strapped for an idea, they could present the awards in character.

Take the opportunity to educate a billion people about movies that don't generally earn widespread attention. I'd never heard of any of the Best Documentary Feature nominees except the "Buena Vista Social Club," and the new producers, perhaps in the interest of time, eliminated descriptions about them. It wasn't until the following day I learned that the winner, "One Day in September," was about the attack on Israeli athletes during the 1972 Munich Olympics.

Encourage better acceptance speeches by forbidding mention of publicists, agents, managers and any relatives not within the immediate family. Laundry lists are boring to listen to and become increasingly meaningless the more names rattled off. If loved ones are that important the winners should be able to remember them without the aid of a crumpled sheet of paper.

The Oscars celebrate cinematographic greatness, a film's ability to entertain. The Academy should follow suit in future productions. Liriel Higa is from Los Angeles, Calif. She can be reached at lshiga@princeton.edu.