On Friday nights, IndieWire After Dark honors fringe cinema in the streaming age with midnight movies from any moment in film history.
First, the BAIT: a weird genre pick, and why we’re exploring its specific niche right now. Then, the BITE: a spoiler-filled answer to the all-important question, “Is this old cult film actually worth recommending?”
The Bait: And the Academy Award Goes to… Bed?
For decades, pop culture lovers have been told that falling asleep in front of their TVs is an insult to both their personal sleep hygiene and the broader seriousness of cinephilia. But awards season has a way of drawing out uncomfortable truths, and with just two weeks to go before the 98th Academy Awards, here’s mine: If you love movie history but suffer from insomnia, few things are more comforting than dozing off listening to the dulcet tones of old Oscars ceremonies.
From familiar orchestral swells to ritualized envelope openings, Hollywood’s annual night at the Dolby is uniquely suited for nocturnal drifting. Nearly a century in, ABC’s broadcasts remain creatively dynamic but mostly structurally unchanged. The shows are still infamously long, presented as a clap-a-thon, broken up by speeches and jokes calibrated for their specific cultural moment (albeit with varying degrees of success). The hosting gig has seen diminishing returns over the years, but with Conan O’Brien returning to the Oscars again in 2026, the core concept persists like a bedtime story too well-known to rewrite.
As the same celebratory arcs and dramatic upsets repeat year after year, always with the same familiar cast of world-famous characters looking their best, the Oscars help make the movie business look like magic — even when we know it’s not. That faux effortlessness can make all the hardship of filmmaking feel worth it, if only for one night. And folks who listen to white noise, rain sounds, and even podcasts when they fall asleep are relying on predictable patterns and comforting symbolism, too.
Midnight movies are all about re-contextualization, and considering these TV programs were mostly designed as single-use spectacles, they take on mesmeric new meaning when they’re replayed on your laptop or phone in the middle of the night. Half-heard then and less remembered now, these delicately mummified parties become something much stranger and softer when you know you’re watching alone.
Enjoyed in a semi-conscious (even Lynchian!) state, everything from a killer Steve Martin monologue to a moving Viola Davis acceptance becomes a sparkly representation of ambition, gratitude, and the fading relevance of time. You don’t need to see the dresses or recognize the names of all the nominees to feel like out there somewhere, someone’s dream is happening — and even that will pass. There’s joy in remembering movies the industry has already buried, and it’s worthwhile to consider the power of achievement when you’re totally untethered from the stakes of an awards race. Closing your eyes, you lose the air of prestige and iconic Oscars moments take on an otherworldly sense of intimacy.
It’s that engine of imagination that’s kept so many cinephiles looking to the Academy for guidance, even as the awards body has lost authority over the years. So, skip the Seth MacFarlane disaster and the Will Smith/Chris Rock year, too. But curated with rest in mind, this viewing ritual repurposes Hollywood’s highest stage as an on-demand lullaby of entertainment legacy. It’s both restorative and faintly disrespectful — as all Oscars viewing, in my sleepy li’l opinion, should be. —AF
The Bite: For Your Consideration… 2004!
First of all, I will push back on the Seth MacFarlane dismissal, as that man’s entire oeuvre is just jokes that are only funny after the clock strikes midnight. But alas, the ceremony I chose to sample (bearing in mind that you need to know “slime tutorial”-like keywords to unearth a lot of the Oscar ceremonies on YouTube) was the 2004 Academy Awards.
Here’s the issue: I’m not new to this. I’m true to this on several fronts. I sleep with some form of sound on every night because the alternative is what introduced me to my sleep paralysis demon. My usual routine as a YouTubeTV convert is to turn to the NickToons channel, which almost exclusively plays “SpongeBob SquarePants” reruns, and more importantly, does not play any trailers like “Scream 7” that would rattle my slumber. The scariest commercial they play is the music video for the “Monster High” theme song.
I’ve also nodded off at a couple of awards shows I’ve attended in real life, like at the Palm Springs International Film Awards one year, after I had only had two hours between landing at the airport after three different flights in one day, checking into my hotel, changing into my suit, and going straight to the ceremony.
Anyhow, I ramble because this strategy ultimately worked too well. At best, I heard snippets of host Billy Crystal’s monologue, where he kept to the tradition of inserting himself into Best Picture nominees, but truly, presenter Sean Connery kicking off the night with his surprisingly sweet-sounding Scottish accent knocked me out like a light. So, I am sad I didn’t even get to see one of the record 11 wins for “The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King,” but I am happy that this sleep strategy’s effectiveness probably earned me an extra REM cycle. —MJ
Read more installments of After Dark, IndieWire’s midnight movie rewatch club:
