Here's How The Oscars Decide Who Gets Played Off During Speeches

As the Academy Awards gear up for their 97th ceremony, many long-time Oscar-watchers are wondering how this year's Conan O'Brien-hosted broadcast will differ from those of the last decade. The Academy has certainly been through a lot since 2015. There was the flubbed Best Picture call in 2017, the three-year hostless experiment, and the full-scale debacle of 2022 (a 4-hour-and-23-minute ordeal where lowlights included three very funny women awkwardly sharing hosting duties, eight awards being presented while attendees walked the red carpet, and Will Smith smacking Chris Rock). The last two Jimmy Kimmel-hosted ceremonies actually weren't bad (ratings even crept up for last year's broadcast), but, as ever, there's a hope that this year's go-round can be a little more entertaining, a little less self-satisfied, and hopefully, much shorter than usual.

ABC has been battling the length issue for ages, and, really, they should look at 2024's 3-hour-and-23-minute show as a victory. I've been watching the Oscars since the early 1980s, and, length-wise, I don't think you can produce a tighter ceremony than this. I have a feeling they'll run a little longer this year due to the Academy's plan to celebrate the city of Los Angeles in the wake of January's devastating wildfires, which is obviously a good thing. In this spirit, I'll ask, as I do every year, that the Academy do something that might sound a little crazy: Please, for one year, ease up a little and don't be so quick to cut off winners' speeches with play-off music from the orchestra. It's rude if not downright cruel, and, having attended my share of watch parties, it doesn't play well with a crowd.

If you're wondering who makes the call to strike up the band and move on to the next segment, you might be surprised to learn who's not responsible.

If you're fortunate enough to ever win a competitive Academy Award, A) congratulations, and B) run, especially if you've triumphed in one of the shorts categories. The minute your name is called, you are on a 45-second clock to hit the stage and give your speech. There are no exceptions to this. If you're having trouble getting by someone in your row, you need to start prioritizing names ASAP. Friends and family members you planned to shout out are likely to be left out. In some cases, you may be lucky just to blurt out the names of your parents and agents; if you're sharing the Oscar, you may not get to say anything at all.

Who's responsible for this? According to former Academy Award orchestra conductor Bill Ross in an interview with The Washington Post, "People think it's the guy with the baton who's making that call, and I assure you it's not." The culprit in almost all cases of cuing up the get-the-f***-off-the-stage music is the director. "I felt so terrible so many times," said Don Mischer, co-producer of the 2010 and 2011 Oscar ceremonies (you can thank him for the James Franco-Anne Hathaway-hosted fiasco). "It is one of the most important moments of their lives. It's something they'll tell their grandkids about."

Of course, we've seen winners successfully out-shout the orchestra. No one to date has done it better than Cuba Gooding Jr., who, upon winning Best Supporting Actor for "Jerry Maguire" in 1997, conjured the pugnacious oratory of his character Rod Tidwell and brought the audience to its feet; amusingly, the orchestra actually crescendoed to match his roaring delivery. Most people do not have that kind of fire or flamboyance in them, but I do think Oscar directors have enough leeway to at least start the 45-second clock once the Oscar is in hand. Winners know ahead of time they're not out there to give a stemwinder, but as long as someone's not rambling or thanking every pet they've lost since childhood, give these folks just an extra few seconds to soak in the moment — because this is where you can get the kind of resonant human emotion that we want out of movies (as Jonathan Glazer delivered in 2024). That's worth an extra 10 minutes or so.