Every year, two special television events consistently bring in the highest ratings. The first, of course, is the Super Bowl, that great wintry spectacle of grinding machismo. The second, however, mandates a costume of the most elegant (and swankiest) proportion and is held in the perpetually sunny clime of Los Angeles. I speak, naturally, of the Academy Awards.

When social historians study our culture centuries from now, they will no doubt take note of the few times every year when millions come together to do the same thing. The Super Bowl fits right into the evolution of Western culture, with roots in the Greek Olympics and the Roman gladiator games. But what will scholars of the future make of the Oscars, a spectacle of prima donnas, cinematographers, John Williams and a certain gladiator from New Zealand?

The cynic may suggest that the Academy Awards are just another publicity stunt orchestrated by that most commercial of institutions—Hollywood—in our most commercial of societies. Just look at two of the Best Picture winners over the last decade. Titanic and Gladiator are epic blockbusters that drew huge box-office revenues but are of questionable artistic merit. Even recent winners with significantly smaller budgets are hardly art-house flicks. Shakespeare In Love is little more than a sappy romance comedy in period costume, and American Beauty is a jarring but hardly-subtle expression of bourgeoisie suburban angst. Considering this history, it’s no surprise that a brilliant but complicated film like Memento isn’t even nominated for Best Picture.

While there are always better films that don’t receive nominations, the size of the budget (or the director’s ego) isn’t the only determining factor. From the Academy President’s introductory speech to the montage of recently deceased actors to the lifetime achievement honorees, there’s some sense of celebrating art for the sake of art—or at least of celebrating film as something more than disposable entertainment. Why else include an award for Best Documentary Feature and Best Documentary Short Subject, when the four-hour plus ceremony is already acknowledged as taking too long?

Whatever the general population may think of the Academy’s taste or politics, an Oscar means a whole lot to those graced with that little golden man. Some of the best acting all year comes with the expressions of feigned joy worn by the losers when the real winners are announced. That’s not because the losers won’t be able to find work without that shiny statuette on their resume. Even the biggest stars still care because there’s an element of prestige in the title “Oscar-winning actor/director/costume designer” that can’t be derived from being the highest-paid or even the most popular. How else can you explain Jim Carrey’s pitiful attempt at serious acting in last year’s The Majestic?

Despite all the shortcomings of the Academy Awards, 40 million of us will still tune in Sunday night. After all, there’s something special about the possibility that a gladiator-turned-mathematician might take home Hollywood’s greatest prize—so special that I’ll be glad to stay awake through every last musical number.