All language subtitles for Fred Astaire s Opening Monologue 1951 Oscars

(Přepsáno pomocí TurboScribe.ai. Upgradovat na Neomezený pro odstranění této zprávy.) This is Ken Carpenter speaking from a special

booth on the stage of the RKO Pantages

Theatre in Hollywood.

The house itself is jammed with 3,000

people and outside, Hollywood Boulevard is swarming with

other thousands.

And small wonder, 1950s most distinguished film achievements

are about to be honored by the Academy

of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.

This is Oscar night, this is the money

run.

Sitting on my left in the booth is

actor John Lund.

During the course of tonight's show, he will

chime in to describe the action and keep

radio listeners abreast of what's going on here

in the theater.

Right now, the overture is about to begin.

The Academy Awards Orchestra, Alfred Newman conducting.

It's my pleasure to have seated with me

here in our ABC radio booth, one of

Hollywood's brightest young stars, Mr. John Lund.

Thank you, Ken.

Please excuse the creepy voice.

I sound like Costello and I don't mean

Dolores.

Well, outside the Pantages Theatre tonight, there's pandemonium.

The crowd is milling around the theater, the

searchlights are roving the sky.

In fact, the scene is exactly like the

Collier's Magazine cover of last week, a case

of nature imitating art.

But inside, there's stillness and expectancy as the

orchestra is lowered into the pit and the

curtain rises to reveal the stage set.

And it's a beautiful set, too, designed by

the celebrated director and artist, Mitch Lyson.

Classic white columns against a kind of a

watermelon-colored background, a blue foundation, and in

stage center, a giant golden Oscar.

Ladies and gentlemen, the president of the Academy

of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, Mr. Charles

Brackett.

Fellow members of the Academy, honored guests, ladies

and gentlemen, the 23rd presentation ceremony of this

organization honors the film achievements of the year

1950.

1950.

Do you remember last December 31st?

Did Americans ever watch the passing of a

year with such a sense of relief?

The year of Korea, the year of Malik,

the year when the Russian land grab became

a fact the most obtuse could not ignore,

the year when young American blood had been

spilled out terribly in what seemed like defeat,

the year when household bomb shelters became an

item advertised in local newspapers.

Already the value and importance of that year

has become obvious.

Violent as shock treatment, it performed the same

function of clarification.

The pattern of our American proposition emerged clear

from the fogs of abuse and mistrust.

Because he was being maligned as an aggressor

and an imperialist, the American man in the

street examined the social theory which is his

birthright with keener eyes.

He found it valid and generous and inescapable

if the spirit of man is to survive.

So much for the year in general.

What about us in the industry during this

momentous stretch of time?

Like the rest of the country, we stuck

to our own job.

That meant turning out pictures, a big divergent

bunch of them.

Pictures about people with individual problems, big ones,

small ones, people with widely different ways of

looking at things and laughing at things, the

kind of people we're used to.

Does that seem a paltry way to face

a time of crisis?

A frivolous use of days whose dawns were

sometimes whitened by the glow of atomic doings

in a nearby state?

I don't think so.

I believe we were affirming our faith in

the importance of individual man and his God

-given rights, that we were exalting his strange

talents for pride and pity and laughter.

I believe we were stating anew his wonder

at earth's beauty and his mystification and grief

at his own folly.

Surely these are matters of high concern in

a world and at a time which has

seen whole nations of individual men obliterated by

a faceless wave.

I hope we'll be making such diverse, many

-sided pictures for a very long time.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, our master of

ceremonies.

Last year at this time, the Board of

Governors of the Academy voted a special award

which met with wild enthusiasm from our members.

It went to a great artist who raised

the whole level of musical pictures by his

own bootstraps.

Who could more artfully take over this stage

tonight than Mr. Fred Astaire.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am grateful to Mr.

Brackett for his splendid summary and for suggesting

how right I am for this job.

However, we must remember Mr. Brackett is a

writer.

What he really means is that I'm a

hoofer with a spare set of tails.

If it's any comfort, there is a reason

for my being here.

Last year for MC, they chose Mr. Paul

Douglas, one of the new faces in films.

This year they've made a neat balance.

They've chosen one of the oldest faces.

It was quite a while ago when I

first got out here.

I guess the Academy Board thought that was

as good a reason as any to choose

an MC.

Anyway, I am most grateful for the honor

and I'll try my best.

Mr. Brackett has covered the important aspects of

filmmaking for 1950.

However, he has not touched on some of

the divine flippancies.

During the year, newspapers carried stories on a

number of weird and outlandish happenings inspired by

the making of motion pictures.

For instance, in January, a woman near Lakeland,

Florida told her husband she was going to

the movies.

She came out of the show, beat up

a and shot a drugstore clerk.

In jail, she explained the whole incident by

saying, I always get a big kick out

of Walter Pigeon.

Here in Hollywood, there were a few light

trends.

Movies began to feature talking animals.

It got so bad that one Boston bank

is said to have withdrawn its banking on

a picture when they caught the producer trying

to use a human being.

1950 was also the year of the small

dark cloud.

A new medium of entertainment began to grow

and experts said it was keeping more and

more people at home.

I refer, of course, to Canasta.

Enough of looking backward.

Tonight is Oscar night.

The prizes are being given for 1950's most

distinguished film achievements.

The prize itself is a 10-inch statue

worth $41, but it is fought for, prayed

for, wept over.

Believe me, Caesar's legions did not fight harder

for the jewel of Gaul.

These awards are arrived at by a carefully

guarded system of balloting.

12,000 people took part in the voting

this year.

The nominations were made by the members of

the academy branches assisted by the Hollywood Guild.

The final selections were voted by the nearly

2,000 members of the academy.

All ballots were mailed to the accounting firm

of Pricewaterhouse where they'd been properly accounted and

certified.

The results were placed in sealed envelopes and

brought to this stage.

Opening those envelopes is the business at hand.

But before we hit the glory trail, I

have a note here on the It again

has to do with thank you speeches from

the winners.

If you will allow me, I must convey

a request from the board asking that you

make them as short as possible.

As you know, in the past we've had

a little trouble with people who have come

up on the stage with a long list

of people to thank.

There was one year at Grauman's, a girl

took a Beverly Hills phone book up with

her.

Another time down at the Shrine Auditorium, an

actor started in.

We never did get him back.

This is not a gag rule.

Feel free to speak your piece, but please

just try to remember on the radio network

it's always later than you think.