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We all make mistakes. From leisure suits in the ‘70s, to “hypercolor” clothing in the ‘80s, to rat tail haircuts anytime, we Americans are notorious for making choices that seemed like good ideas at the time. Despite our less-than-stellar judgment, we tend to demand more of our finest institutions. In particular, we expect our most prestigious award-givers to choose the right winners. Is that too much to ask? Take the Academy Awards (please!). Today, we thought it might be fun to go back through history and point out the most obvious mistakes in the history of the Oscars. Focusing on past recipients of the three major awards (Best Picture, Actor and Actress), we’ll identify the times when Oscar really fell down on the job. And, sad to say, it’s happened more than once.

I have an ongoing love affair with New York, the city that formed me. I was born here, and though I’ve left occasionally, it was never for very long. The pace, color, and excitement of this amazing town always drew me back like a magnet, and holds me still. No surprise then that I love experiencing the potent nostalgia of great films that recall the New York City of my early years.

I will always remember the pure exhilaration I felt watching Quentin Tarantino’s “Pulp Fiction” for the first time in a theater thirty years ago. The memory is so clear of first realizing that I was experiencing an extraordinary piece of filmmaking, deliriously entertaining but also completely fresh and unique. What made “Pulp” so exciting and distinctive?

It’s a bit of a mystery why lines like  “Do I feel lucky?” (“Dirty Harry,” 1971)  and “I’ll be back!” (“The Terminator,” 1984) enter the popular zeitgeist, but there’s no denying they do. And there’s more than a bit of magic to that.

Just like the image of her fragile, unconventional beauty trapped within the glow of a tight spotlight, Judy Garland’s life as a performer was surrounded by a vast darkness. She gave the world her special gift, and it gave back not a shred of happiness. There was an overarching sadness about her that only grew more pronounced as the hard years went by. As Frank Sinatra put it, “When she sang, it always felt like she died a little.”   It was tragic pretty much from the outset. When overbearing show mom Ethel Milne found she was pregnant with her third child by husband Frank Gumm, she attempted to induce miscarriage by throwing herself down a flight of stairs. Failing that, she tried to get an abortion. This desire may have partly stemmed from Ethel’s growing suspicion that her husband was homosexual. Regardless, a family friend finally convinced the couple that this little one would be a blessing. They hoped for a boy. On June 10, 1922 they welcomed their third daughter – Frances Ethel Gumm – the combined hopes of her mother and father right there in her name.

Here’s a film that’s never quite got its due in Alfred Hitchcock’s oeuvre, an atypical feature for “the Master,” which posed a difficult challenge: sustaining tension and intrigue in the most confined of spaces.

I found it interesting (if not particularly surprising) that the top box office performers of the last several decades have tended to be longer movies. Scanning over tent-pole movies released since the millennium, blockbusters like the “Lord Of The Rings” series clock in at about three hours per installment, while “Avatar” and “The Dark Knight Rises” run well over the two and a half hour mark. Other more recent superhero franchises show the same trend. Examples: “The Avengers” (143 mins.), “Captain America” (136 mins.), and “The Amazing Spiderman” (142 mins.) Then there’s the talented but increasingly self-indulgent Quentin Tarantino, whose pictures most always go on and on. Most recently, “Inglorious Basterds” (153 mins.) and “Django Unchained” (165 mins.) prove my point.