And the winner isn’t . . .

Hollywood’s hottest will gather for the 80th Annual Academy Awards on Sunday. Whoever gets the Oscars, you can bet that fans of unrewarded flicks will argue that Academy voters ignored a classic work of art. And it won’t be the first time.

Arguments over Oscar-winning movies are endless (Patton: modern masterpiece or inconsequential piece of fluff?). But it is inarguable that many enduring classics were sadly overlooked by the Academy voters of their day. So today, KnowledgeNews honors the dishonored with our list of the Top 5 Most Snubbed Motion Pictures, Oscars Edition.

1. Citizen Kane (1941)

The Academy Awards celebrate artistry in motion pictures, but you’d never have guessed that on Oscar Night 1942, when How Green Was My Valley beat Citizen Kane for best picture. Orson Welles’s difficult masterpiece garnered nominations aplenty: best picture, best actor, best director, and more. But at the end of the day, the only award the film received was for best original screenplay. Welles’s consolation was that later generations would celebrate Kane as perhaps the greatest motion picture of all time.

2. Chinatown (1974)

If you think that being nominated for an Oscar is what’s important, then Roman Polanski’s seminal detective drama–starring Jack Nicholson with a band-aid on his schnoz–did just fine. It was nominated for 11 awards, including best picture, best actor and actress, and best director. Luckily, it was also nominated for best screenplay, because that was the only award it won. The Godfather Part II was also in the running that year, and Chinatown couldn’t keep pace.

3. Double Indemnity (1944)

Billy Wilder would have been happy to share Polanski’s fate. His film–which many call the greatest of all film noirs–was also nominated for many awards, including best picture, best actress, and best director. But it didn’t win even one. The alleged best picture this time out was Going My Way, a feel-good musical starring Bing Crosby as the new priest in a troubled Catholic parish. Perhaps wartime America found it easier to celebrate sentiment over cynicism. A month after the awards ceremony, Allied forces took Berlin.

4. Singin’ in the Rain (1952)

Jealousy is an ugly emotion, but you could probably forgive co-directors Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen if they were a touch bitter after seeing their picture–arguably the best musical of all time–receive just two nominations (for best supporting actress and best musical score) and no awards. A Cecil B. DeMille circus extravaganza, The Greatest Show on Earth, somehow managed to bag the award for best picture that year, while classics like Singin’ in the Rain, High Noon, and The Quiet Man went down to defeat. Perhaps the sight of Charlton Heston in tights addled the voters’ minds.

5. Some Like It Hot (1959)

Is winning that much better than losing if all you can win is a relatively trivial award? Billy Wilder’s manic comedy garnered some respectable nominations (like best actor, best director, and best screenplay), but all it won was the award for best costume design. Apparently, Jack Lemmon really looked good in that dress. The big winner that year was Ben-Hur, meaning that the Academy thought a costume drama was better than Some Like It Hot in everything except costumes.

Special Lifetime Snub Award

And the special Lifetime Snub Award goes to . . .

Alfred Hitchcock.

In his day, Hitchcock was dismissed as an intellectual lightweight, pandering to the public in a series of shallow suspense films. The Academy was at the forefront of the anti-Hitch movement and bestowed a grand total of zero awards on three of his best films: Rear Window (1954), North By Northwest (1959), and Psycho (1960).

It’s true: Hitchcock gave the people what they wanted–and what they wanted were stylish, intelligent, well-made movies with strong characters and an absorbing story. Not surprisingly, Hitchcock’s movies have survived the test of time, while his more-honored contemporaries have fallen into obscurity. So when you watch this year’s Academy Awards, keep one thing in mind: today’s Oscar also-rans might prove to be tomorrow’s timeless classics.

–Mark Diller

Judah Ben-Hur knew which sport was super

Tens of millions of viewers tuned in last night to watch the Super Bowl–the biggest “big game” on America’s sports calendar. Amid all the bone-crushing competition and superfluous spectacle, we couldn’t help but think about the most brutal and popular game in ancient Rome.

If you’re thinking gladiatorial contests, we have a surprise for you. Yes, the gladiators were popular, but the real action was down the road–in the Circus Maximus. That’s right. The Romans’ biggest “big game” was chariot racing.

ast Times at the CircusRoman chariots raced on tracks called “circuses” (because of their oval shape). The greatest of these, the Circus Maximus, started out simply as a flat space between two hills on which spectators sat. Eventually, it was ringed with bleachers–first of wood, then of stone. Admission was free, and there were seats for as many as 250,000 people. By comparison, the Colosseum sat no more than 50,000.

Most races featured quadriga teams–four horses yoked to each chariot. Up to twelve chariots per race took off from an elaborate starting gate, then sped along a sandy track. The chariots were lightly constructed of wood and, with four horses pulling together, they moved like lightning. But there were seven laps in a race (totaling three or four miles), and the corners were tight, so drivers had to rein their teams just right if they hoped to win–or even live to race another day.

Death Before Defeat

High-ranking Romans weren’t allowed to race in the Circus, so drivers tended to be low born–most were former slaves. With a cash purse riding on every contest, chariot racing was a way for talented men to make a lot of money and climb the social ladder.

Chasing wealth and glory, drivers often threw caution to the horse-sped wind. They wore helmets and wrapped leather around their chests for safety. But they also tied the reins around their waists to free their hands, and that could spell trouble. If a chariot capsized and a driver found himself dragged behind his team, his only chance was to cut the reins with a special curved dagger he wore for that purpose.

With so many teams taking tight turns at high speeds, it wasn’t unusual to see a driver get hurt. The Roman poet Martial wrote a verse in honor of the charioteer Scorpus, who won more than 2,000 races. His career ended abruptly when he took a turn too fast, flipped his chariot, and died.

Curse You, Ben-Hur!

Now, what could make chariot racing even more thrilling? Try team rivalries. Every chariot driver in the Circus Maximus belonged to one of four stables, known by their colors: red, green, white, and blue. Each stable had a star driver, and his teammates worked hard to make sure he won.

Fans identified strongly with favorite teams, and did what they could to cheer its star to victory (or heckle a hated rival to defeat). Archaeologists have even found ancient curse tablets in which fans tried to sabotage their favorite team’s rivals by means of the dark arts.

With so much passion invested in the sport, it’s no wonder that politicians found a way to exploit it. The famous phrase “bread and circuses” refers to the Roman method of distracting disaffected folk with free food and spectacular races at public expense. Better to pay for racing than put down revolt.

In front of a half-tough crowd

President Bush will deliver his final State of the Union address tonight. Well, maybe not his final one. After all, nothing in the Constitution says the State of the Union has to be an annual affair. Article II, Section 3 just says the president “shall from time to time give to the Congress information of the state of the union, and recommend to their consideration such measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient.”

Nothing in there about doing it once a year. Nothing in there about making a speech, either. In fact, presidents from Thomas Jefferson to Woodrow Wilson put their statements in writing. So, how did the State of the Union address get to be the way it is? It all started with George Washington.

Precedents for Presidents

In 1790, President Washington delivered the first State of the Union speech to a joint session of Congress convened in New York City (then the nation’s capital). At 1,085 words, Washington’s address is among the shortest ever. After hearing the president’s proposals, Congress debated, drafted, and delivered a courteous reply promising its cooperation.

So such speeches went until 1801, when Thomas Jefferson became president. Jefferson thought Washington’s approach reeked of royalty. (In fact, the idea for the State of the Union address did derive from a British tradition in which the king opened Parliament with a “Speech from the Throne.”) What’s more, Jefferson thought the Congress had better things to do than debate replies to presidential speeches.

Rather than speaking, Jefferson submitted his message in writing–saving Congress from “the bloody conflict which the making an answer would have committed them.” The next 24 presidents followed Jefferson’s lead rather than Washington’s, delivering written “information” instead of speeches.

Memorable Moments

In 1823, James Monroe used his written message to Congress to lay out the Monroe Doctrine, which declared that “the American continents, by the free and independent condition which they have assumed and maintain, are henceforth not to be considered as subjects for future colonization by any European powers.”

In the midst of the Civil War, in 1862, Abraham Lincoln used his message to propose emancipation of the slaves. “The fiery trial through which we pass,” he wrote, “will light us down in honor or dishonor to the latest generation. In giving freedom to the slave we assure freedom to the free–honorable alike in what we give and what we preserve.”

Finally, in 1913, Woodrow Wilson decided to follow Washington’s lead and not Jefferson’s. He gave a speech to both houses of Congress–reestablishing, as he put it, that “the President of the United States is a person, not a mere department of the government hailing Congress from some isolated island of jealous power.”

Media Darlings

Ten years after Wilson’s speech, Calvin Coolidge delivered the first State of the Union address to be broadcast by radio. But most agree that the master of the radio address was Franklin Roosevelt, who in 1941 famously looked forward to a future founded on four freedoms: “The first is freedom of speech and expression. . . . The second is freedom of every person to worship God in his own way. . . . The third is freedom from want. . . . The fourth is freedom from fear.”

President Harry Truman delivered the first televised State of the Union speech in 1947, but he didn’t do it in prime time. The first president to take full advantage of the power of prime-time TV was Lyndon Johnson, in 1965. The following year saw the first televised opposition response immediately following the address. So much for carefully debated replies.

What would Ben Franklin think?

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Friends, America’s Federal Communications Commission voted on Tuesday to let media companies own both a newspaper and a television or radio station in the nation’s 20 largest media markets. The controversial decision reverses a longstanding ban on such cross-media conglomeration.

Opponents of the change say the old rule helped prevent major media companies from becoming too dominant. Supporters say the new rule simply recognizes a changing media landscape, in which newspapers are struggling to find readers and more folks find the information they need online.

Either way, we say it’s a good time to look back at American media’s roots–to a time when local voices like Ben Franklin’s dominated. After all, before he messed around with lightning or charmed French royalty, old Ben was a newspaperman.

An Ink-Stained Wretch

Back then, printers did it all–interviewing recently arrived ship captains for out-of-town news, writing articles, plagiarizing stories from other newspapers, selling ads, printing the pages, and distributing the final product. In fact, most colonial newspapers sprang from small printshops that employed just the owner and his teenage apprentice.

Ben Franklin started in the printing trade as an apprentice to his older brother, James, who ran a small printshop in Boston. Working there exposed the young Franklin to different kinds of writing and gave him a chance to borrow books on the sly from booksellers’ apprentices.

In those days, printers had to be smart and strong. Composing the pages was a mental feat–type was set letter by letter, using little blocks of metal, and for the page to appear correctly when printed, every line had to be composed in reverse. (Many printers were as adept at reading backward as forward.) After the pages were made, the printer personally pulled the lever on the heavy wooden press to stamp the image–one page at a time. No wonder few colonial newspapers had a press run of more than 300.

The Life and Times of Silence Dogood

James Franklin wanted his publication, the New-England Courant, to be more than the usual collection of 6-month-old news that appeared in other colonial newspapers. So he solicited articles. In 1722, 14 letters appeared in the New-England Courant signed by “Silence Dogood.” The middle-aged widow had a lot to say about the clergy, fashion, and political matters, and people loved it–even if they didn’t know who the Widow Dogood really was.

Using a pen name was common at the time, so everyone knew “Dogood” wasn’t her real name. But no one knew that 16-year-old Ben had actually written the letters, sliding them under the printshop’s door at night.

A year after the Silence Dogood letters were published, Ben ran away from his brother’s employ. (Things got rough for James after he was thrown in jail for suggesting the local authorities were in cahoots with pirates.) Still in his teens, Ben apprenticed with a Philadelphia printer before sailing for London and working there for two years. By 1729, he was back in Philadelphia and publishing his own newspaper, the Pennsylvania Gazette.

All the News Ben Could Print

The Gazette was like most newspapers of its day–no headlines, few illustrations, and it ran only four pages. What set it apart was Franklin’s lively version of local news. He filled the columns with anecdotes like this one: “And sometime last Week, we are informed, that one Piles a Fidler, with his Wife, were overset in a Canoo near Newtown Creek. The good Man, ’tis said, prudently secur’d his Fiddle, and let his Wife go to the Bottom.” The Pennsylvania Gazette became one of the most successful newspapers of its time.

Colonial newspapers had no separate editorial pages, but they were packed with opinions. Just as he had done in his Silence Dogood days, Franklin often wrote an article in the voice of a fictional citizen. In 1735, he printed a letter purportedly written by an elderly gentleman, who encouraged his fellow Philadelphians to establish a volunteer fire department. The imaginary old man described leaping out the window of a burning house. By the end of the year, the Union Fire Company of Philadelphia had formed.

“Poor Richard” Makes Ben Wealthy

Franklin’s most successful editorial alter ego was “Poor Richard” Saunders, the pen name Franklin used for the 25 years he published Poor Richard’s Almanack. In the colonies, practically every printer published an annual almanac. These thick pamphlets, showing the phases of the moon and predicting the weather, were moneymakers because most literate households purchased one every year.

In 1732, Franklin threw together a 24-page publication with a first-person preface signed by Richard Saunders. The “author,” a destitute stargazer whose shrewish wife threatened to burn all his books and astronomy instruments if he didn’t “make some profitable use of them,” admitted the reason he wrote the almanac was to make a little money and get her off his back.

From 1732 to 1757, Poor Richard’s grew in popularity as readers found more than the usual astronomical charts and tidal tables. Tucked into this almanac were proverbs such as “Early to Bed, and early to rise, makes a Man healthy, wealthy and wise.” Franklin said he saw the almanac as a way to educate folks who might not buy any other books and so “filled all the little spaces that occurred between the Remarkable Days in the Calendar, with Proverbial Sentences, chiefly such as inculcated Industry and Frugality.”

Some years Franklin sold 10,000 copies. Combined with good investments and lucrative printing contracts, the profits from the almanac allowed him to retire from printing at the ripe old age of 42. Of course, Franklin’s “retirement” was more active than many a person’s working life. And though he was hailed as a scientist, diplomat, patriot, and philosopher, at the end of his days, Franklin was still proud of his printshop roots. When he wrote his will at the age of 82, he began: “I, Benjamin Franklin, printer, . . . “

If someday we have a world without journalists, or at least without editors, what would the news agenda look like? How would citizens make up a front page differently than professional news people?

If a new crop of user-news sites—and measures of user activity on mainstream news sites—are any indication, the news agenda will be more diverse, more transitory, and often draw on a very different and perhaps controversial list of sources, according to a new study.

The report, released by the Project for Excellence in Journalism (PEJ), compared the news agenda of the mainstream media for one week with the news agenda found on a host of user-news sites for the same period.

In a week when the mainstream press was focused on Iraq and the debate over immigration, the three leading user-news sites—Reddit, Digg and Del.icio.us—were more focused on stories like the release of Apple’s new iphone and that Nintendo had surpassed Sony in net worth, according to the study.

The report also found subtle differences in three other forms of user-driven content within one site: Yahoo News’ Most Recommended, Most Viewed, and Most Emailed.

The question of whether citizens define the news differently than professionals is becoming increasingly relevant. It started with offering visitors a sense of what others found interesting: what news stories were most emailed and most viewed?

Soon, establishment news sites like CBSNews.com allowed users to make their own newscasts. Then, names like Digg, Reddit and Del.icio.us emerged as virtual town squares that became a way to measure the pulse of what the web community finds most newsworthy, most captivating, or just amusing. The trend continues, as even Myspace, the social networking site popular among 20-somethings, has launched a news page (http://news.myspace.com).

Indeed, these user-driven sites have entered the news business, or perhaps more accurately, they have entered the news dissemination business. Reporting is not a part of their charge. Instead, they turn to others for content and then they bestow users with the task of deciding what makes it on the page.

What do individuals do with that power? What kind of events or issues do they choose to highlight? And how does it differ from the news the mainstream press offers?

To find out, PEJ took a snapshot of coverage from the week of June 24 to June 29, 2007, on three sites that offer user-driven news agendas: Digg, Del.icio.us and Reddit. In addition, the Project studied Yahoo News, an outlet that offers an editor-based news page and three different lists of user-ranked news: Most Recommended, Most Viewed, and Most Emailed. These sites were then compared with the news agenda found in the 48 mainstream news outlets contained in PEJ’s News Coverage Index.

A total of 644 stories from the three user-driven sites and Yahoo News’s three most popular pages were coded for the study and then compared to 1,395 stories from the same time period in PEJ’s News Coverage Index. The report first compared the content of the user-sites to that of the mainstream press. Next, it compared the three user-sites to each other. Finally, the study looked at the three user-oriented pages on Yahoo News, comparing them to Yahoo’s editor-selected news page, to the other user-sites, and to each other.

Some key findings include: