The Oscars used to matter. Not just to film nerds who can quote Cassavetes or argue about lens choices, but to everyone. There was a time when winning Best Picture meant something, when the whole world tuned in to see who’d walk away with a little gold man and a lifetime of credibility. But now? Now it feels like watching your cool older cousin spiral into a midlife crisis—desperate to stay relevant, unsure of who they are, constantly changing things that don’t actually fix the problem.
Take the latest twist in this increasingly awkward saga: the Academy has introduced a new voting rule that says, essentially, “Hey, maybe you should actually watch the movies before you vote for them.” Groundbreaking stuff. What’s next—expecting voters to pick the best performance based on merit instead of name recognition or who threw the fanciest cocktail party?
Starting with the 2026 Oscars, honoring films released in 2025, members won’t be able to vote in a category unless they’ve seen all the nominees. That means watching through the Academy’s Screening Room app or filling out a form swearing they saw the movie elsewhere—like at a screening or festival. In theory, it’s a much-needed reform. For years, voters have openly admitted they skip entire categories or just go with whatever title sounds the most “important.” So yeah, this is a step in the right direction.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The honor system is still very much in play here, and the loopholes are big enough to drive a Dune sandworm through. You can play a film on the app, leave the room, and mark it “watched.” You can claim you saw an animated short at Sundance when you were actually getting drunk at the hotel bar. The app logs streams, but it doesn’t track attention. And the forms? Nobody’s checking.
And the numbers don’t exactly make this airtight. As of 2024, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has 9,905 voting members. That’s nearly ten thousand people who are now supposed to certify that they’ve watched every single film in a given category before casting a vote. That’s a lot of trust placed in people who, historically, have treated the voting process more like a vibe check than an informed decision.
The Academy is clearly hoping this rule change will restore some credibility, but here’s the thing: if you’re relying on a self-reporting system and passive video tracking to uphold integrity, you’re still leaving the door wide open for apathy and manipulation. Anyone who’s ever streamed a video while scrolling their phone knows you can technically “watch” something without actually watching it.
The fact that this kind of rule wasn’t already the standard says a lot about how the Oscars have operated—less like a celebration of film and more like a political campaign with gold statues. For a long time, it wasn’t about what was best—it was about what had the most buzz, the most expensive “For Your Consideration” campaign, or the most famous name attached.
This new rule should help. It levels the field a bit. With only 17 unique films nominated across all categories in the 2025 Oscars, watching them all is totally doable. That’s two or three movies a week during the 42-day voting window. If you can’t manage that, maybe don’t vote. It’s not gatekeeping. It’s basic effort.
But the Academy has a trust problem, and this alone won’t fix it. This is the same organization that, after Black Panther made a billion dollars, panicked and tried to create a “Most Popular Film” category. Everyone mocked it, so they canceled the idea—and then nominated Black Panther for Best Picture anyway, like we wouldn’t notice the stunt. It reeked of insecurity, and audiences could smell it a mile away.
That’s been the Oscars’ problem for years. They want the prestige and the popularity, but they won’t fully commit to either. So we get awkward compromises: hosts nobody asked for, montages no one remembers, and awards handed out to movies most people haven’t even heard of, let alone seen. The show’s not a celebration of cinema anymore—it’s a messy identity crisis streamed in primetime.
And let’s be real: a lot of voters aren’t just old-school—they’re checked out. Not maliciously, but out of habit, disinterest, or overload. These aren’t full-time jurors. They’re working directors, producers, editors, and actors who get hundreds of screeners dumped on them every year. If they already think they know what’s going to win—or if a film just doesn’t match their tastes—they might hit play, mute the volume, and move on.
So yes, this new voting rule is better than nothing. It might mean more voters actually watch the nominees. It might result in fewer “default” wins for the most marketed film. But it’s still a Band-Aid on a much bigger issue: the Oscars don’t know what they are anymore. Are they about artistic excellence or box office clout? Do they reflect the film industry or try to steer it?
Audiences have tuned out not because they hate movies, but because they don’t trust the process. The numbers back it up: Oscar ratings have been on a steady decline for years. Even moments like Everything Everywhere All At Once sweeping the 2023 show, or the chaotic novelty of “the slap,” haven’t reversed the trend. And unless that changes, all the rule tweaks in the world won’t mean much.
If the Academy wants to be taken seriously again, watching all the nominated films shouldn’t be framed as some bold new idea. It should be the bare minimum.
Hollywood After Dark 