Countdown to Crystal

Louis J. Horvitz is no stranger to the big leagues. He won an Emmy last September for directing the Kennedy Center Honors. In January, he directed the halftime extravaganza at the Super Bowl. Still, calling the shots on tonight’s 69th Academy Awards show, he says, is most definitely in a class by itself.

“It’s the cachet of the Oscars--not the numbers,” Horvitz said, referring to the 1 billion people expected to tune in from 100 countries worldwide. “Though directing any program requires mounting an offensive, this one feels like the Normandy invasion.”

Two weeks before D-day, crews (part of the 4,000 to 5,000 people hired to produce the event) were sent to the Shrine Auditorium to create a veritable city. Electricity and phone lines were installed in the trailers at the back of the auditorium where the production team--and press technicians from 11 countries, ranging from Peru to Romania--are camped out. On Thursday, a 97-degree scorcher, the air conditioning broke down. Friday morning, generators were brought in after a glitch at the Department of Water and Power triggered a short power outage.

That afternoon, host Billy Crystal arrived. Gilbert Cates, returning after taking last year off to produce his seventh show, had made his return contingent on that of Crystal, who took a three-year hiatus. “He’s fast, funny, part of the movie community--and knows how to work the room,” said Cates, who, four years ago, sent Crystal a stuffed horse’s head in a successful bid to get him on board.

Shortly before walking onstage for the first time, Crystal said, his nerves had yet to kick in. “That’s not a good sign,” the comedian said. “I need some edge to be good.” Backed by a four-story-high, gold, black and silver deco set, Crystal proceeded to survey the room. Eighteen stand-in actors took turns jogging up to the stage thanking Mom and the academy in mock acceptance speeches. Placards indicated the location of each presenter and nominee. Luminaries like Glenn Close, Gregory Hines, Goldie Hawn and “Secrets & Lies” best actress nominee Brenda Blethyn were represented by placards in the first row. Five rows back on the aisle: “The English Patient” producer Saul Zaentz, winner of this year’s Irving G. Thalberg Award.

“Part of my job is to make it fun for these people,” explained the comedian, casually attired in a black sweatshirt and jeans. “The first 10 rows are like the penalty box in a hockey game. They’re freezing cold, scared, nervous, beaten up for the past two weeks. It’s hard enough to be nominated . . . then you’ve got those hand-held cameras in your face.”

One of the challenges is coming up with lines with which the actors feel comfortable, said Hal Kanter who--with Carrie Fisher and Buz Kohan--is writing the show. “Because a lot of young people don’t have theatrical background like the stars of the past, we’ve cut down on the friendly banter in the past few years,” said the writer-director (“The Rose Tattoo”), whose first Oscar outing was a 1952 radio broadcast. “The easier it looks, the more difficult to pull off.”

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The theme of this year’s festivities is the “togetherness” of moviegoing--an antidote to the isolation brought on by increasing dependence on technology. But the Oscars themselves are more technologically dependent than ever before. Six cameras have been allocated for the arrivals alone--gathering footage for anxiety-producing, spur-of-the-moment editing from which writers scribble index cards for announcer Randy Thomas to read. No one expects a repeat of the time that “Dick Tracy’s” Madonna’s microphone failed to come up because the technician in the pit fell asleep. But since the 450 moving spotlights inside the theater are computer-controlled, a lot can still go wrong.

Even on the music end, this show is harder to pull off, associate producer Michael Seligman says. “Usually a handful of pictures dominate the awards,” he said, drawing on 20 years of experience. “With so many small independent movies surfacing this time, we had to copy and arrange 35% to 40% more musical play-ons.” In any case, said Cates, he approaches the Oscars as a no-win proposition--at least from a public opinion point of view.

“It was very liberating when two-time producer Samuel Goldwyn told me that no matter what I do, people won’t like it--so I should do the show I like,” said Cates, who was brought in the year after the 1989 show that featured Rob Lowe cavorting with “Snow White.” “He was right. One critic in 1990 actually said he missed the tackiness of earlier shows. In the end, I do it because I like it. As Orson Welles said about movie-making: ‘It’s the best electric train set a kid could have.’ ”