Hollywood was long ago nicknamed the dream factory but with an Oscar hangover that somehow allowed me to think that James Franco co-hosted part of the Academy Awards in Marilyn Monroe drag, I don’t entirely trust my perspective.  This same fever dream then starred Charlie Sheen, star of a show I never watch, “Two and A Half Men” appearing to me on every television channel I flipped my remote to, proclaiming he lived with two women he called “the goddesses,” was filled with “tiger blood,” and uttering such memorable quotes as, “I don’t sleep.  I wait.” My medications obviously need to be adjusted.    Or maybe it could be my writer subconscious begging me to be that much bolder in my work.  More likely, it’s both.

Some years ago a friend of mine commented on some such event like Suzanne Somers bringing her one woman show to Broadway (he now contends it was some other event but I prefer to think of it this way) that “it’s the end of civilization.”  I have been meaning to call him to ask what stage he now considers us to be in.  A culture drunk bender that will require a century of rehab?  Post Armageddon?  Perhaps it’s the finale chapter of “Newhart” where he wakes up next to the wife of his previous successful television series, Suzanne Pleshette, in the finale of his second successful television series, and when he tells her the details of his new sitcom life of the last five years, she looks at him and deadpans, “Go back to sleep.”

We might all need a long sleep.  But how long?  A century?  A decade?  Or two or three?  Maybe we’re sleeping already and we don’t know it.  Is that the real message of “Inception?”  Have I finally figured it out and can now once again be considered culturally literate?  Or is that my fantasy, too?

A certain amount of both illusion and truth is needed to succeed in the entertainment business, and I suspect in any creative enterprise.  But how much of each?  That’s the trick.  Keeping it in the proper balance.  For yourself.  Because everyone needs a different dosage to not only succeed but to survive in today’s world.

It should be noted I’m appropriating Edward Albee’s famous line from his masterwork “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”  Albee, by the way, didn’t win the Oscar for the movie version of Edward Albee’s “WAOVW” – that was  Ernest Lehman (“North by Northwest”), who admitted he tried to open up the story, only to go back to many of the lines and moments in the play.  But he still got the credit and Oscar for the words on the page, which yes, he did edit and reorder, but most of which were written by Albee.  Perhaps that’s the screenwriter’s job and he deserved it.  Or is it an illusion that he wrote the movie version.  I don’t know and it’s up to others less dreamy to decide.  (Note:  A friend just called to tell me Lehman didn’t win but was nominated, which is an honor in itself where you get a nice certificate and a free luncheon, something Albee still might have been rightfully entitled to.  Now picking up where we left off — )

What I do know is that when starting in any creative profession one must have a notion or vision or illusion of one’s success despite the odds.  Some call that goals.  Motivational guru Tony Robbins talks about finding a mentor and visualization and thirty years ago got a lot of attention for demonstrating this by walking across a bed of coals barefoot – willing himself not to feel the heat.

It’s a clever metaphor – not feeling the heat when you’re attempting to do something new and different.  Arianna Huffington was warned by most of her friends that she’d fail miserably when she started Huffington Post and now has become one of the most influential media moguls in the world.  Columbia put “E.T.” into turnaround in 1981, thinking who’d want to see some story about a little kid and an alien directed by the guy who’d just done the overblown box office disappointment, “1941?”  One of the producers of this year’s Oscar show came up with the excuse that “we had to try something – even if nothing worked, we can fix it.  But at least we did it.”  As disappointing as the Oscars might have been to many, he has a point.  Success has many parents but failure is an orphan (no, I didn’t make that up).  You need to dream and dream big (nor that either).  Be fearless.  Knowing success is not a straight line but a circuitous graph that is more nuanced and jagged than Bernie Madoff’s financial books and probably more treacherous to navigate than Charlie Sheen’s brain patterns.  (that’s mine, I think).

Some people say to be bold – Think Different.  At least that’s what those Apple ads told us – from Einstein to Bono – so it must be true.  But then once you do, everyone tells you your ideas suck and you’re crazy.  Until you prove them wrong.  Or implode.  Or explode.

One of the cool and troubling things about society is there is room for everyone or no one.  You have to self-monitor and yet not self censor.  One person’s truth is society’s illusion or vice-versa.   One of the things a writing mentor of mine, Oscar nominated screenwriter Anna Hamilton-Phelan (“Gorillas in the Mist”) said years ago stayed with me. She invited me into her writer’s group and at one point, reading a very personal, independent screenplay I was writing, she noted that one of the greatest things about not having had a movie made is that you don’t know how many things will have to change and what can go wrong.  You can write unencumbered because you don’t know enough yet to censor yourself.  In the last 25 years I’ve heard that sentiment shared by Callie Khouri, Shane Black and just about every screenwriter I’ve ever met.  What I think they’re saying is you need a certain amount of illusion to get by in a world crazy enough to have phones stand in for musical instruments…

…and politicians and governments ignoring the true will of its people (fill in your own links because I’m not getting political right now).  It’s up to us to dream and dream big.  If it works out and it gets the message across then you are a genius and as rich and famous as Madonna or (fill in political figure of your choice). Do it wrong and you’ve Charlie Sheened yourself across the airwaves.  None are particularly real but all are an attempt at something.  In today’s culture, it’s your choice to decide which illusion you want to present as your, or our, truth. If you’re creative and lucky enough, the former can just as easily become the latter.  Of course, that could just be my illusion and the way I survive.  Which is also totally fine.  Despite what anyone else thinks.  Because I believe it’s so.

I’ve dreamed of winning an Oscar.  There, I said it.  And I think if everyone in the film business were honest (HAH!), they’d all admit they’ve dreamed of winning one too.  The real question is – WHY?

There is no single answer to that.  Some things just are.  Death.  Taxes.  The tastiness of really good French Fries.  Those who say they haven’t craved Oscar or French fries will inevitably flunk a lie detector test.  Those that pass the test are lying and have figured out a way to get around the machine.  Which, in itself, could be Oscar worthy and one way to get one.

But I digress.

It’s not as if I wake up each day meticulously planning how I will bring the win about (uh, oh, perhaps I should).  I actually seldom think about it.  Except around Oscar time and all of those childhood dreams of being noticed, publicly recognized, cheered by a tuxedo’d/gowned audience (not to mention the billions watching on tv), acknowledged as being great by my peers, going down forever in history as being brilliantly talented by a majority of, well, some group, and becoming rich and famous enough to tell everyone else or even everyone else in that group who was ever mean to me to go jump in the lake, begin to surface.

Have I said too much?  Does any of this sound familiar? At ANY point in your life?  Think about it.  Come on.  Then think about it some more.  Go deeper.  And don’t lie to me.  Or yourself.

Because admitting you want something in a fantasy isn’t the same as being obsessed with it or making it your life goal.  I want to be 6’2” and look like a Winklevii for 15 minutes.  But that’s not going to happen.    It’s implausible because I’m 5’7” and human beings can’t be stretched 7 inches.  (And besides, the Winklevii are 6’5).  Where  you we I get into trouble is not thinking it is overwhelming fantasy or in taking it too seriously.  It’s when you don’t see it for what it really is – a “nice to have in the abstract” but not a requirement that means what we think it does.  This is actually the basis of fairy tales.  In Oscar’s case, being recognized and voted the “BEST” that year.  The BEST?  By whose standards and what measure?  Let’s discuss.

Was three time Oscar winner Walter Brennan a better actor than never won an Oscar Cary Grant?  Is “Rocky” a better film than “All the President’s Men” and “Network?”  Well, somebody (more than one) thought so on both counts.  Would you rather watch “Ghandhi” again (or for the first time) or rewatch “E.T.” or “Tootsie?” – the film that won best picture that year or the two nominated?  Finally, do you think it’s an oversight that for the last 25 years every critics poll didn’t vote Oscar winner “How Green Was My Valley” as the BEST film ever made but instead voted for “Citizen Kane,” the film that lost the Oscar that year?

You can objectively state that due to my height and lack of athletic ability I will never look like a Winklevii because it’s a scientific reality. But you can’t prove “How Green Was My Valley” is a better movie than “Citizen Kane.” Oh, and conversely,  you can’t prove “Citizen Kane” is better than “HGWMV” (well…okay).   It’s a matter of taste.  And – it’s subjective.

Years ago when I was one of three movie critics at Daily Variety I was assigned to review “Nine to Five” (1982; starring Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin and Dolly Parton, – huge boxoffice hit).  I came back from the screening and one of my fellow critics, thinking my tastes in film were quite pedestrian up to that point, said “Well, you couldn’t have liked THAT!”  I, being who I am and easily annoyed by condescension (except for my own), replied “Actually, I thought it was really funny and very entertaining.”  Needless to say, he slammed his reporter’s notebook down and exited in a huff, thus causing the passive aggressive in me to write an even more favorable review than I would have.  And holding to my guns, that it is still one of the most brilliant, historic, perfect comedies to this day if he were to ask me.

I have the vague sense that more than a few Oscar ballots are cast that way.  Who will benefit from the award; who do I dislike who will be pissed off if I voted this way and that person/thing wins; what filmmaker never gets recognized and should; what indie movies are over praised and what commercial studio movies that have made too much money should be ignored.  But – THE BEST?  Sometimes, I suppose.  But as a quantifiable barometer of anything more than a fantasy fulfilled?  I don’t think so.

Some things are measurable.  Steven Spielberg’s films are the highest grossing combined in the history of Hollywood because all you have to do is add the numbers, even with ticket price inflation.  But he can’t rightly be called the BEST director any more than I can be called the best, well, anything.  That’s about personal feeling.

It was most wisely put in “The Wizard of Oz” when at the end of the film the Wizard gives the Tin Man a great big red heart. The Tin Man’s sweet demeanor and consideration of others would cause even all of the members of the Academy to vote him as having the biggest heart of all (or certainly at MGM).  The irony is the Tin Man thinks he doesn’t have one.  But as the Wizard acknowledges the only thing the Tin Man doesn’t have is a testimonial, he hands him an actual replica of the heart, the physical embodiment of all he desires.  It’s nice but it doesn’t cause him to cry when Dorothy leaves. It’s just a physical reminder of what’s inside.  So this Sunday, when you pull up a chair at your friend’s house to view the Oscars, know you’re watching the best fantasy in the world played out on a star-studded night. And remember what I once heard the late Oscar-nominated producer Dan Melnick say, “In Hollywood, when there’s smoke, there’s usually a smoke machine.”