Special to the Herald

When I was a child, I considered the Oscars my own personal Christmas morning. Back in middle school, it was the one night of the year when I had special permission to stay up past my bedtime — and, with three sisters, two parents, and only one television, the one night of the year when I was solely in charge of the remote control. (This felt sort of like in old Westerns when some average Joe would be deputized and suddenly made an officer of the law in a crisis.)

Everyone would go to bed, but I would wait up, through those boring costume and sound design awards, past all the musical numbers and the obituary montage, all the way to the Best Picture winner. When I got really excited, I would wake up my parents to tell them the winner, and never notice that they universally didn’t really care.

And a few years ago, when I was living in California, I actually got to attend the Oscars as a journalist. I went to the red carpet pre-show, ate free shrimp in the pressroom, and participated in group interviews with the winners. I also got to dress up in formalwear and get a manicure, so the whole thing was as much of a fairytale as I’m likely to get.

Ever since, though, I haven’t really been much interested in the Academy Awards. Partly it’s because a little piece of me is still very much homesick for my life in LA. And partly it’s because I know I’m probably never going to have a better Oscar experience in my life (unless I switch gears and become a costume designer like, now).

And, of course, I’ve also lost interest in the Oscars because now that the curtain has been pulled back, some of the magic is lost to me. See, the Oscars are now mostly about money.

Studios spend millions of dollars promoting their movies in an effort to win Oscars, because many viewers are more likely to see movies with “Academy Award Winner” attached to the poster.

And the system for voting for winners is defective: if you’re an Academy member, there’s nothing to prevent you from voting for a film that you made, or that your friend or partner made. In fact, there’s no rule at all that says Academy members have to actually see any of the movies they’re voting on, much less all of them.

The Oscars are a machine now, working to market little-seen movies, generate respect for an industry that’s lost so much of it, provide a playing field for pop culture politics, cultivate and feed the monster of celebrity, and just generally pull attention away from a product and towards the people making them.

I’m not arguing that the Oscars have been corrupted — to an extent, they were always about Hollywood’s self-promotion. But the percentages have tipped too far in the wrong direction. Now, the Oscars are only a teeny bit about recognizing great achievements in film, and mostly about that other stuff.

To be honest, I don’t actually mind that much — at the end of the day, I’m really pleased when a great movie like “Little Miss Sunshine” gets attention that it never would have otherwise, and I like fashion and musical clip shows as much as the next girl.

I just wish Hollywood was a little more honest with us about what all this actually means. But, then, I suppose we all enjoy believing in Christmas morning, right?

So, yes, the Oscars have been tainted for me, and I have less and less interest in watching. But one thing that I love, and will always love about this time of year is that it pulls our attention not just to this specific ceremony, but to the entire history and culture of film.

Classic films that might otherwise be forgotten are paraded across cable channels. Great — or at least, memorable — moments in history are resurrected for examination.

Remember the Oscar streaker? Or when Marlon Brando rejected an Oscar for The Godfather? How about the time America had its first directing nomination for a woman, or when Sidney Poitier was recognized for his lifetime achievements?

These aren’t just moments in film history, they’re moments in American history, and they continue to have value even if the modern Academy Awards seems to have less and less.

I won’t be giving any Oscar predictions this month. I’m not going to try to guess whether Helen Mirren will beat Judy Dench, and I won’t be placing any bets on whether Martin Scorsese is getting that first directorial award.

But, especially now, I’m going to keep talking about film — as a culture, as a chunk of American history, and as a signifier of who we are. I don’t believe in the Oscars anymore, which, considering how I used to feel, is kind of sad.

But I do still believe in the awesome power of film, and I’m always ready to talk about why. This, more than any other, is the time of year for discussion, and I think we should take advantage.

Melissa Olson was born and raised in Chippewa Falls. She graduated from the University of Southern California with a degree in film and television, and works for a television production company in Madison. E-mail comments and questions to Melissa at mfo.usc@gmail.com.