From pig to prostitutes, you gotta love Award time

Thank God for prostitution. The world's oldest profession provided Hollywood actresses with some of the meatiest roles of their professional careers in 1995, and finally, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences scrapped together a Best Actress race and a Best Supporting Actress race for the Academy Awards Monday night of which it can be proud, full of workaday whores pounding the pavement in Vegas (Elisabeth Shue in "Leaving Las Vegas"), high-class call girls hustling the gambling palaces of the same town (Sharon Stone in "Casino"), and bubbly hookers from the Big Apple who dress in pastels and decorate with phalluses (Mira Sorvino in "Mighty Aphrodite").

In fact, the entire underbelly of American society-murder, alcoholism, suicide, infidelity, organized crime-was cinematically scrutinized in exquisite fashion this year through the aforementioned films, "Dead Man Walking," "The Usual Suspects," "Crumb," "To Die For," "Seven," and a short list of others. But just when it seemed the movie business had gotten past its paranoia of exploring such topics, to the point where many of these films were considered locks for a slew of Oscars, along came the most unlikely of movie stars, the only one with a lower I.Q. than Forrest Gump: a pig named Babe. Of course, one must also remember that 1996 is an election year, so the nomination of "Babe" for Best Picture was, if not a conscious effort on Hollywood's part to align itself with the popular political morality and efface the criticism Senator Bob Dole unleashed on it earlier this year, at least a subtle allusion to pork-barrel politics and Pat Buchanan's girth.

Capitol Hill infiltrated Oscar ballot boxes in subtler ways as well. Though an ample percentage of the year's most trumpeted acting performances were nominated, some were passed over so as to include more chaste roles. Hence, Meryl Streep's housewife in "The Bridges of Madison County" is chosen over Nicole Kidman's ruthless vixen in "To Die For," James Cromwell's farmer in "Babe" one-ups Delroy Lindo's crack kingpin in "Clockers," and Jennifer Jason Leigh's much-lauded turn as a ne'er-do-well in "Georgia" is overlooked for the performance of Shue, an All-American blonde known for frothy girlfriend roles in "Cocktail," and "Adventures in Babysitting." (Leigh, it seems from "Georgia" and past roles, loves dwelling in immorality.)

The Academy curiously upheld some of its stodgier practices this year as it concurrently bucked other trends. Whereas in Oscars past, the directors of those films up for Best Picture were automatically granted directing nominations, this year's Best Director slots seemed reserved for those whose films were too controversial to tout as a Best Picture. (Someone please explain how "Vegas" and "Dead Man" could be nominated for Best Actor, Actress, Screenplay and Director, yet be shunned for Best Picture.) And while the two best documentaries of 1995, "Unzipped" and "Crumb" went unrecognized, just like 1994's revered "Hoop Dreams," "The Postman" quietly cracked the foreign-language barrier surrounding Best Picture.

This year's contenders could be stacked along the same polarized themes as last year's-"Gump" vs. "Pulp," ebullient goodness vs. electrifying gore-although to a less dramatically hyped extent, as this year's Best Picture competitors were the most wholesome from a crop of worthy films. "Braveheart"was the only Best Picture possible to contain gore, but its violence is contextualized in a sweeping epic celebrating teamwork and underdogs. And "Sense and Sensibility," an irresistibly pure tale of loves lost, had Hollywood's two hottest screenwriters behind it, thus snaring the adapted screenplay award: Jane Austen, whose novels were the impetus for three above-average films this year, including "Persuasion" and "Clueless," and Emma Thompson, she of the Acting School of Petticoats and Repressed Emotions, taking her first stab at writing-the Oscar gods love actors behind the camera. It's worked for Clint Eastwood, Kevin Costner, Warren Beatty and Robert Redford, and wound up working for Mel Gibson this year, cinching him Best Director for "Braveheart" and, consequently, Best Picture.

Monday night's awards ceremony was tastefully done, tempering the usual levels of Tinseltown schmaltz with truly emotional scenes, most notably the appearances of Kirk Douglas, a recent stroke victim, and Christopher Reeve, speaking with utmost eloquence from the confines of his wheelchair. Sure, there was a slight trace of condemnable "Cripples on Parade," but the telecast subtly testified to film's power to channel emotion and preserve moments in time and the memories we so strongly associate with them. On the other hand, perhaps Jim Carrey phrased it best Monday night when he brillantly shrugged off the Oscars as nothing more than "the Lord of all Knicknacks, the King of all Tchotchkes."

Rose Martelli is a Trinity senior and senior editor of The Chronicle.