Such questions are always pertinent at this time, and were once again brought to light after some controversial comments made by one of 2013s prospective nominees, Joaquin Phoenix. Having spent a few years in the wilderness after his failed mocumentary Im Still Here, Phoenix has returned to tinsel town with plenty to prove to the detractors who were brutally vitriolic when assessing his attempts to con audiences, critics, and peers alike by feigning the downfall of his own career. Now, he is back with the perfect riposte, portraying a World War Two veteran struggling to acclimatise to a post-war America in Paul Thomas Andersons The Master. His performance has been a critical success in all the major cultural quarters, and he was awarded with the Volpi Cup for Best Actor at the Venice Film Festival, sharing the spoils with his co-star Phillip Seymour-Hoffman. Following the hysteria, talk about Phoenix being a favourite to scoop the gong at the Oscars was rapidly bubbling to the brim, until the a few terse words from the actor brought things into perspective, as seen in British newspaper The Guardian: http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2012/oct/19/joaquin-phoenix-oscars-carrot I think its bulls**t. I think its total, utter bulls**t, and I dont want to be part of it, dont believe in it. Its a carrot, but its the worst tasting carrot Ive ever tasted in my whole life. I dont want this carrot. Its totally subjective. Pitting people against each other. Its the stupidest thing in the world. As irreverent these comments may seem to the head honchos at the Academy, together with those in the acting game who dream of having a statue forged especially for them, Phoenix makes a very valid argument against the offer of prestige in the form of an inanimate object. Of course, he is not the first to disparage the ceremony, Marlon Brando having infamously rebuffed the Academy after winning Best Supporting Actor for his role in The Godfather, but rarely has an actor been so quick to denounce the event as worthless and vain, before their name has even been added to the shortlist. In many ways, Phoenixs resentment is justified, as surely the greatest reward of all would be the thrill and satisfaction experienced during and after partaking in a film of true brilliance. The sensation or buzz as actors call it, when one feels truly engrossed and alive during a dramatic scene, is the original stimulus that drives thousands of aspiring young men and women to the profession. Furthermore, it is the body of work, the opportunity to express oneself, and to explore the physical and psychological realms of a different being, that makes acting a thing of beauty. Trophies are only material, handed down to the chosen favourites who are not always deserving, but popular with the powers that be. Fame is fickle, as is celebrity, and an actors reputation is capricious as English weather; held in esteem one moment, fumbling in the gutter the next. For those who live for their art over conceit, the polarisation between ordinary and working life need not be marred by an undercurrent of bitterness, a sense of wrongdoing that festers on and off set when the ego is not fed. To be a prevalent actor is a fine privilege, one bestowed on very few; the ceremonies and statues will come later perhaps, but it is doubtful that they will invigorate the soul in the same way as performing does. So, when February 24 arrives and the red carpet unfurls like the tongue of some hulking mythical beast, perhaps viewers will take Joaquin Phoenixs words into account, and see the bigger picture.