text: Courtesy of Paramount Pictures. 
   
   Well, they’ve finally arrived. After months and months of speculation, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced its Academy Award nominations this morning, honoring the supposedly best of 2014 in film. And in large part, they did do just that. The marvelous Boyhood got lots of recognition, for its writing, acting, and directing. Laura Dern, beloved by an obsessive subset of the nation, got a nomination—for Wild, but frankly it doesn’t matter what it was for, it’s good news no matter what. Other thoughtful performances, like Edward Norton in Birdman and Mark Ruffalo in Foxcatcher, were also nominated. So there’s much to be happy about. And yet, don’t the nominations this year feel so wrong? 
   
   Let’s start with the silly stuff. After she snagged Golden Globe and SAG nominations, we in the Oscar-predicting business thought that Jennifer Aniston was for sure going to get nominated for Cake. Not because it was such a groundbreaking performance, but because it seemed like one of the big narratives of the year, a much-maligned-and-gossiped-about comedy star getting the big, unexpected dramatic accolade. But, it didn’t happen. And, really, I have only myself to blame for being shocked. The overhype and subsequent anticlimax of Aniston’s truncated Oscar season was all the doing of people like me. Because the actress who “stole” Aniston’s spot, Marion Cotillard, won some big critics prizes for her performance in Two Days, One Night (and in The Immigrant, which this nomination seems to also essentially be recognizing). So there was no reason to count her out of the Oscars. But, Aniston was the much more exciting story, and so we, I, ran with it. And that was silly of us. Apologies for that. 
   
   On the more egregious end of things, that the superb Swedish film Force Majeure was not nominated for best foreign language feature is a modest outrage, displaying the sort of frustrating shortsightedness that the Academy is unfortunately rather famous for. Force Majeure is a difficult film, and hard to classify, not neatly comedy or drama or satire or tragedy or anything else. Yes, I suppose you could say the same for Birdman, which did very well this morning, but that movie has a certain palatable polish to it that Force Majeure, with all its angular foreignness, does not. And so it got ignored. One of the absolute best movies of the year! Completely snubbed. That’s annoying. 
   
   But not nearly as annoying, if annoying is even the right word, as what happened with two other big films this morning. First, Selma was nominated for only two awards, for best original song and best picture. That best-picture nod is very good news, of course. But that the movie’s wonderful acting, directing, writing, editing, and cinematography were shut out is a real oversight, sad in the story it tells and troubling in how grimly predictable it was. Maybe the issue really was, as some are saying, Paramount botching the movie’s awards campaign, failing to get screeners out in time. But there’s a strong whiff of something else amiss here, when a movie so beloved by audiences and critics, that has so many strong points that could be singled out for awards recognition, goes largely unrecognized. Especially in a year when other, far less acute or thoughtful biopics about white people fared so much better. 
   
   Selma’s short-shrifting is particularly galling when you consider that American Sniper got more nominations, two of them in “major” categories (best actor and editing). Clint Eastwood’s messily reverent biopic of Navy SEAL sniper Chris Kyle does exactly the opposite of what Selma does, occluding important sociopolitical truths behind a veil of macho patriotism. It’s not exactly a surprise that older Academy members are enamored of its aggressive jingoism. But when that fusty predilection makes collateral damage of a movie like Selma—such a searching, galvanizing, genuinely enriching film, perfectly tuned for such troubled political and social times—the crusty old Academy begins to look, as it does from time to time, like a deeply flawed voting body. 
   
   Gallery: The 2015 Acting Oscar Nominees ||||| No black woman has ever been nominated for a Best Director Oscar. That won't be changing this year. 
   
   Despite its hype, previous awards nominations and breathless reviews, Selma director Ava DuVernay was not nominated for a Best Director Oscar in 2015. Who was? Alejandro G. Iñárritu (Birdman), Richard Linklater (Boyhood), Bennett Miller (Foxcatcher), Wes Anderson (The Grand Budapest Hotel) and Morten Tyldum (The Imitation Game). In other words, guys getting nominated for movies about white guys. 
   
   For those left scratching their heads, here are some further things to ponder. David Oyelowo, who earned rave reviews for his portrayal of Martin Luther King, Jr. in Selma was not nominated for a Best Actor Oscar. He was beat out by Steve Carell, Bradley Cooper (who wasn't even nominated for Golden Globe), Benedict Cumberbatch, Michael Keaton and Eddie Redmayne. Five white men. 
   
   See also: 7 black female directors earning incredible Hollywood reviews 
   
   Though Selma was nominated for Best Picture, an inevitability thanks to the category allowing five to 10 nominations, it wasn't nominated for best screenplay. The lack of nominations doesn't bode well for a Best Picture win — the only film in history to take home the top prize without a director or acting nomination was the 1932 film Grand Hotel. 
   
   Though Selma could possibly make history in that respect, it's doubtful. The Academy already missed its chance once. 
   
   The surprising dearth of nominations for minorities — this will be the whitest group since 1998 — comes after a banner year in 2014 for black actors and directors. The Steve McQueen-directed 12 Years a Slave took home three awards, for Best Supporting Actress (Lupita Nyong'o), Best Adapted Screenplay (John Ridley) and Best Picture. Furthermore, lead actor Chiwetel Ejiofor was at least nominated for Best Actor. 
   
   Lupita Nyong'o holding her Oscar at the 2014 Academy Awards. Image: Jordan Strauss/Invision/AP/Associated Press 
   
   Historically, black directors don't fare well at the Oscars. Only three black men have ever been nominated in the best director category: John Singleton for Boyz n the Hood (1991), Lee Daniels for Precious (2009) and Steve McQueen for 12 Years a Slave just last year. None of them won. No black person has ever won a Best Director Oscar. 
   
   This year marks the Academy's 87th award show. Is it really believable that in 87 shows, not one black person has been deserving of a Best Director win? Of course not. 
   
   To be fair, it's not as though black people were able to direct award-worthy films back in 1929, when the first Academy Awards took place. What with all the rampant racism in the country at the time, it wasn't easy for black people to break into Hollywood. However, that's inexcusable in today's film landscape. There's a wealth of award-worthy black directors whose work is deserving of recognition. 
   
   Nominating DuVernay could have been an incredible, two-fold win on its own. Though she should not be nominated just for the sake of it, it's fair to say DuVernay has earned her place. She directed one of the most talked-about films of the year and has been nominated at every turn — except where it counts. She would have also only been the fifth woman in history to grab a Best Director nom (only one has won — Kathryn Bigelow in 2010 for Hurt Locker). 
   
   Last year, 43.1 million people watched the Oscars. What will all those people see this year? An awards ceremony that shunned one of its brightest new stars. 
   
   Ava DuVernay at the 2015 Golden Globes, where she was nominated for Best Director. Image: ordan Strauss/Invision/AP/Associated Press 
   
   This year's nominations send a brutal message: Academy voters do not appear to care about diversity. This year's nominations refuse to highlight actors and directors who deliver excellent work in an industry that repeatedly shuts them out. Voting members of the Academy are 93% white, and 76% male, according to the Los Angeles Times. 
   
   What's worse is this comes at a time when Cheryl Boone Isaacs, the Academy's president (who is a black woman) has been openly pushing for more diversity. 
   
   “We’re in the second decade of the 21st century, and it’s a whole new environment for entertainment,” Boone Isaacs told Variety. “I think part of this is a recognition that there are different voices that need to be heard — and that there are audiences for these different voices. We at the Academy want to be a place where these voices can be recognized.” 
   
   Despite Boone Isaacs' best efforts, those voices aren't going to be recognized this year. And that's a damn shame. ||||| The Oscar nominations were announced this morning. There will be plenty of analysis regarding good surprises and bad surprises, and I may dip my toes in later today. But the most egregious omission is the sadly not-entirely-surprising absence of Selma’s Ava DuVernay from the five contenders nominated for Best Director. This is not a place to complain about the five nominees who did make the cut, although anyone who knows me well enough knows which one or ones I could have swapped in and out. To the extent that one can be “angry” about a certain filmmaker not being nominated for a major award that honors the best in filmmaking, I am angry. I am angry because she deserved a nomination. I am angry because if the legacy of DuVernay’s Selma becomes shaped by its Oscar-season controversy, I fear that it will affect the artistic opportunities afforded to its African-American female director in a manner different than if Selma would have come under fire under the directorial lens of a white male filmmaker. 
   
   Ms. DuVernay directed one of the very best films of the year and has been lauded and celebrated accordingly for the last two months and yet she was shoved aside for at least a few contenders who were nowhere near as celebrated. There is a real chance that this terrific and towering achievement that highlights the profoundly heroic and blood-stained work of those who worked with and for Martin Luther King Jr. in the civil rights movement will be forever defined by the notion that it wasn't nice enough to a powerful white guy in a supporting role. Kathryn Bigelow’s Zero Dark Thirty allowed itself to be defined by those sniping from the sidelines (including many outside the filmmaking and critical community) that the film somehow endorsed and glamorized torture because it didn't have characters monologue at length about the immorality and impracticality of torture. Despite the film’s rave reviews and rock-solid box office ($132 million on a $40m budget), the narrative around Bigelow’s masterpiece, for which she too was denied a Best Director nomination, has become “that torture movie.” Zero Dark Thirty, an overwhelming indictment of our entire post-9/11 mindset wrapped up in the story of one of the War on Terror’s alleged successes, was tainted along with its female filmmaker, who currently has no projects on tap. 
   
   Selma is not the first “based on a true story” picture that has come under fire for historical inaccuracies. But it is the rare black-centric historical drama told explicitly from the point of view of its black protagonists. So it is both ironic and infuriating that it has now been defamed because of the (I would argue false) notion that it isn't nice enough to a really powerful white guy who plays a key supporting role. More importantly, it is a rare big movie, even if it was merely a $20 million independently financed production, which comes from the lens of a female African-American filmmaker. We are just now getting to a point where Warner Bros./ Time Warner Inc. felt properly pressured (or logically inclined) to hire a female director to direct a Wonder Woman movie. We are just at the point where we have male black filmmakers like Lee Daniels and Steve McQueen crafting very important movies about black characters and/or black-centric historical events. We've even got Tim Story crafting franchises for Kevin Hart and Ice Cube. It’s a very tiny piece of progress, but it is thus-far male-centric in nature. 
   
   I have no idea what offers (if any) have been afforded to Ms. DuVernay in the aftermath of Selma’s initial rave reviews and Oscar-happy media tour. But she is, to put it bluntly, by virtue of her race and her gender, at a greater disadvantage in terms of what opportunities are afforded to her in a still explicitly white/male-centric Hollywood. Mortem Tydlum will face no penalty for the borderline libelous (but unquestionably entertaining and engaging) The Imitation Game when it comes time for him to pick his next project. Clint Eastwood may have sanded off the rough edges off of American Sniper’s protagonist, but he will still get to do what he wants to do next time out. Bennett Miller will face no qualms getting a directing job despite the various "we're pretending our protagonists are secretly gay for drama" fabrications in Sony's Foxcatcher. James Marsh will face no career hurdles on account of the not-100% accurate The Theory of Everything. And they arguably shouldn't face any real penalties, since historical movies are at best an approximation of history, a kind of "Elseworlds" variation on known events. The films will earn their critical plaudits, make their money, and win their awards, but the respective directors have already won. 
   
   WATCH: Common Talks About Working On 'Selma' 
   
   But Ms. DuVernay used Paramount's ( Viacom Inc.) Selma as both a personal artistic statement and a calling card of sorts in terms of what she can do behind a camera in an industry that is mostly filled with white male directors. White male filmmakers have the luxury of being mediocre, and would-be Oscar bait films about interesting white males have the luxury of shrugging off the failures accrued during Oscar season and coasting merely on the perception of prestige whether the films are worthy or not. Damien Chazelle and Dan Gilroy will get huge career boosts merely because Whiplash and Nightcrawler were two of the best movies of the year, and Oscar validation would merely have been a cherry on top. Ms. DuVernay, more than her peers, arguably needed that Oscar validation as a bargaining chip. 
   
   That Ms. DuVernay didn't get a Best Director Oscar nomination doesn't make Selma any less of a great film. But that she was not among the final five announced this morning points to the notion that the smear campaign worked as intended. It’s a sad reflection of a year when a number of good, great, and lousy fictionalized true-life biopics about allegedly great or somewhat interesting white men are well-represented while one of the very best-reviewed movies of the year went with hardly a single relevant nomination, aside from getting into the expanded Best Picture field, arguably on account of controversy over its accuracy. Considering the obstacles that Ms. DuVernay faces in terms of just steady employment by virtue of her gender and skin color, the risk of Selma being defined not by its once-unquestionable quality as a motion picture but rather by the context of its back-and-forth bantering over its alleged historical embellishments is more than just trivial. 
   
   I’m angry because one of the best films of the year has been libeled and that said libel apparently worked. I hope I’m wrong about both Selma’s cinematic legacy and about DuVernay’s career prospects. Maybe she will get a call from Marvel tomorrow to helm a Phase Three picture as Luke Y. Thompson brilliantly advocated on Monday. Maybe she will quickly make a deal to do whatever it is she wants to do with little fuss and little melodrama merely based on the obvious filmmaking talent than Selma displays. But her omission from the five Best Director candidates this year makes that possibility that much less likely in a way that it wouldn’t have for a Selma directed by (for example) Paul Greengrass. Greengrass, who originally intended to direct Memphis based on an earlier portion of King's life, would have emerged unscathed. I can only hope Ava DuVernay does. And that’s why it matters. And that’s why I’m angry. 
   
   Also on Forbes:
target: – The Oscar nominations come once a year, and so too the avalanche of stories on the biggest snubs. But in terms of 2015, Richard Lawson at Vanity Fair puts it thusly: "Don’t the nominations this year feel so wrong?" Our roundup of this year's particularly vocal snub-coverage: Director Phil Lord is grabbing a ton of headlines for his "touché" response to the Lego Movie somehow not being nominated for Best Animated Feature: "It's okay. Made my own!" he tweeted along with an image of an Oscar made entirely from yellow Legos. He's nearing 12,000 retweets. How Jezebel sums it up: 2015 Oscar Nominations Snub Basically Everybody Who Isn't a White Dude. Mashable notes "this will be the whitest group since 1998." In that vein, Scott Mendelson at Forbes zeros in on one "egregious" omission: Selma director Ava DuVernay. His lengthy piece explores why her snub matters. Mashable notes that no black female director has ever gotten a nod; only three black male directors have (John Singleton, Boyz n the Hood; Lee Daniels, Precious; Steve McQueen, 12 Years a Slave). None won. Lawson looks beyond Selma's Best Director snub, expanding it: "That the movie’s wonderful acting, directing, writing, editing, and cinematography were shut out is a real oversight, sad in the story it tells and troubling in how grimly predictable it was." (Its only nods were Best Picture and Best Original Song.) For a meaty rundown, check out Huffington Post's list of today's 29 biggest snubs.