Last night was another night of Academy Awards. Red Carpet dreams and Filmic Fantasies. For me it was the 43rd consecutive year I have not won an Oscar. I guess my infant years should not be counted, but I was here, so they count.
It’s funny how things don’t seem to matter unless there are accolades, awards and trophies.
Take The Wizard of Oz for instance. (This is my favorite childhood movie). My favorite character is the Wizard himself. Do you know his name? I mean his real name. Probably not. He actually played five different characters in The Wizard of Oz, one of the most popular movies in cinema history, yet few know his identity.
Now that’s Magic.
He won no Oscars, but I’ll always remember his words;
"Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!"
This has been a mantra for all the workers behind the camera. Those of us who toil behind the scenes, just off screen, just beyond the edge of the TV. Just beyond the reach of Fame.
Thank goodness.
I can’t imagine having paparazzi hiding in the bushes, waiting to take a picture of me, hoping to make thousands if my underwear is askew. Or the gossip pages endlessly surmising if my marriage is caving in, if my spouse and I are cheating, until we finally do because so many assume it’s true.
No Fame, please. Toto, stay away from the curtain.
One of my shots, which was the opening shot for Sesame Street for about ten years was estimated to have been seen a billion times across ninety countries. A couple years ago, I had a shot in a Super Bowl commercial. I’m told that that’s another billion or so. My work plays endlessly on cable, day and night, yet my incognito has remained intact. Even in my family pictures, I only show up in about one out of a hundred images (because I’m usually the cameraman at home, too).
The only image I’m in that has gotten much notice is the one at the top of this page. Luckily there’s other people in the shot, so maybe no one will notice me.
I thought my obscurity was resilient, like an old friend that had my back. I could walk the streets unnoticed. Go grocery shopping, spend time with the famlily at the beach, all in full public view. But just when my assumption was that my Oscar-less state would afford me a degree of unfame, it hit me. Searching on some movie trivia after the Academy Awards, I stumbled upon myself. Someone had entered me into the IMDB.
Must I now check the bushes for paparazzi each night, before retiring? Are there Mamarazzi’s to go with the Paparazzi’s? Oh, my. Who should I call to avoid the fickle finger of Fame?
Why Francis Wupperman, of course!
Ah, the Magic…
