Gregory Virgin Has Never Been Nominated in Any Category
Memoirs of an Academy Awards Seat Filler
I hope everyone enjoyed the Academy Awards this past weekend. It got me thinking about the time that I attended the show as a seat filler in 2019. To anyone unfamiliar, a seat filler is someone who sits when the stars don’t want to, which is most of the time as it turns out. The moment the show goes to commercial, the celebrities leap from their seats and disappear from the auditorium, presumably visiting the lobby bar or flirting with Martin Scorsese for a movie role. Meanwhile, unpaid plebeians like me are brought in to fill their seats because empty seats look bad on camera. After all, they run the risk of reminding home viewers that what they’re choosing to watch for 3.5 hours is profoundly unentertaining.
Why are acceptance speeches so dull? Because humans are delivering them and humans are dull. Sadly, attractiveness doesn’t help. Just look at the graph below.
When I tell people that I went to the Oscars, which I always bring up within five minutes of meeting someone, they usually want to know about the celebrities. It’s almost like we don’t watch these shows solely for the recognition of achievements in the art of cinema. The thing is, if you’re following the rules, you don’t actually “meet” anyone because seat fillers are told in no uncertain terms that we are not to initiate conversation with the stars. Only if spoken to may we respond, which is the same directive I give to my barber.
If people could be trusted to just make polite small talk as they would with any stranger, I’m sure this rule would not be necessary. Unfortunately, people can’t be trusted. This has been empirically proven at every celebrity book signing when at least one audience member uses the Q&A to invite the speaker to their family Easter brunch. Having said that, it is somewhat awkward to sit up front at the Oscars in total silence, while the nominees around you converse excitedly. For one 45-minute stretch, I was seated next to Octavia Spencer. I followed the rule and avoided all interaction until there came a moment when she was concernedly looking around her seat.
“Do you see my purse?”
I had been spoken to.
In an awe-inspiring act of chivalry, I shifted my eyes around the immediate area. It quickly became apparent, however, that the purse was most likely under her seat, and therefore visually obstructed by the bottom of her dress. She started to move around her dress as we looked and managed to locate it quickly. I was glad, too, because this didn’t seem like something I should be helping with. Even though “Don’t look under the actors’ clothes” was not one of the explicitly stated rules, I’ve always been a master of inference.
Aside from that slightly amusing half-anecdote, I had one other brief interaction with a star when I was told to occupy Melissa McCarthy’s seat. As I headed over, I was abruptly sent away by British actor Richard E. Grant.
“Melissa’s coming back! Melissa’s coming back!”
“Okay.”
I hope Richard cherishes that memory as fondly as I do.
The most humbling moment for me came at the end of the night. By this point, I was feeling pretty special. Look at me, I’m at the Oscars. I must be an important person. It had been a long day of orientations and security checkpoints, but I had finally made it into the elite world of big-time show biz. The show was now over and I asked one of the organizers where I was to go next. He motioned to the exit.
“Walk out that door.”
Suddenly I was alone on Hollywood Boulevard, just an ordinary schmuck in a rented tuxedo. Time to go home.
I jumped on a bus, paid my $1.75, and filled another seat.
Here is one of my favorite Academy Award openings. Billy Crystal embodies everything I want show business to be.