There is a buzzing excitement that accompanies otherwise regular movie outings during this time of year. The experience becomes fraught with glowing expectations, brought on by compulsive IMDb-monitoring, the constant bombardment of film posters, and the onset of awards season.

Just last week saw the announcement of the 2014 Oscar nominees, the same week during which the Golden Globes and the Critics’ Choice awards took place.

The excitement is accompanied by an uneasy trepidation for all of us who grow too easily attached to certain films or actors and take a certain loss or lack of nomination as a sign of great injustice. Such is the inevitable disappointment of the awards season.

Between the saddening absence of Woody Allen and the frustrating grand total of one non-white Best Actress winner, I try very hard throughout the year to pass the award shows off as trivial; subjective; wastes of time. As Allen is quoted as saying in the film “Woody Allen: A Documentary,” “I think what you get in awards is favoritism. I mean, people can say ‘my favourite movie was Annie Hall,’ but the implication is that it’s the best movie. And I don’t think that’s possible—I don’t think you can make that judgment.”

Allen’s movies, including Annie Hall, have won wide acclaim from viewers and shows, yet he appears adamant about refusing acceptance of any kind of award.

Despite the shortcomings of the various awards, with each new year, I find myself excited to watch the shows all over again, eager to try and predict the recipients of various accolades.

My excitement begins in the early months of fall, when the first batches of good movies begin to roll into  theaters. This excitement builds until the holiday season, which commonly sees the greatest number of “the good movies,”—films made with critical acclaim and awards in mind—in comparison to the largely critically underwhelming releases of the spring and summer.

I find the awards to serve many purposes: a second vacation from the burden of already knee-high readings assigned, a distraction from the bitter weather; an antidote to my homesickness for the West Coast.

But to be more honest, I love following the awards shows because they are the perfect entertaining conclusion to an entertaining year—a grand finale to months and sometimes years of dedication that go into making two hours of whatever heartbreaking, surreal, exciting, or sobering narrative ends up on our screens. The shows are potent in their glamour and exclusivity, both of which draw so many of us to observe and admire, as if we can imagine ourselves seated across from teasing hosts, handsome announcers, and celebrated entertainers. It’s a bright, grand end to the year. And although the Best Picture award may not accurately describe its recipient, its announcement is a satisfying conclusion to a long year of movie-going—and a fitting prelude of things to come.

In our time of disillusionment with public figures, it can seem of no surprise when politicians put their personal interests ahead of the interests of the people that they are representing.

This is what happened in the so-called “bridgegate” scandal, when New Jersey Governor Chris Christie’s administration inconvenienced thousands of  commuters in order to exact revenge in a petty political squabble.

Similar issues were revealed in the ongoing Canadian Senate expenses scandal, which concerns the decision  by Mike Duffy and several other senators to claim  expenses for which they were not eligible. In the case of the Duffy expenses, the prime minister’s office has been dogged by questions over payments made  to Duffy equal to the amount in claimed expenses he was forced to pay back.

As with their counterparts in New Jersey, here, senators showed a complete disregard for their constituents’ interests in order to put money in their own pockets. However, the lack of accountability displayed by those involved in the Canadian senate expenses scandal, and the subsequent refusal to comment on their evident mistakes, represents not only an indifference towards the public, but also towards the public’s perception of their actions and towards the right of the press to make their indiscretions known.

In New Jersey, the scandal began with series of lane closures last year on the New Jersey approach to the George Washington Bridge. It is no surprise that such a vindictive act would attract immense attention from the media. Christie and his administration attempted to conceal their connection to the scandal; it was not until the press dug up incriminating emails, such as the infamous message sent by one of Christie’s aides, one of which stated, “Time for some traffic problems in Fort Lee,” that Christie and his aides were conclusively linked to the incident. The leading theory suggests that the staff orchestrated this traffic jam as retaliation against the mayor of Fort Lee (the city on the New Jersey side of the bridge) for withholding a political endorsement.

Similarly, on this side of the border, a senator claiming illegitimate expenses was bound to attract attention from the media and incur widespread uproar from the public.  However, despite ample proof, Stephen Harper and the senators involved in the scandal remained aloof and refused to accept responsibility for their wrongdoings.

In a CBC interview, Jonathan Kay of the National Post, who has spent significant time reporting both in the U.S. and in Canada, stated, “the degree to which public servants in the U.S. feel that they have a responsibility to answer questions of the press is staggering compared to in Canada.” Indeed, Stephen Harper has been harshly criticized for his refusal to answer questions posed by reporters on the topic of senate expenses.  If government officials embroiled in such scandals deny the media’s questions, how can we expect to hold them accountable?

Both scandals are indefensible breaches of political power. However, once the American politicians involved in the bridgegate incident were exposed, they were at least able to take some responsibility for their mistakes regardless of the questions that remain about Christie’s involvement. In Canada, considerations of the public’s right to information regarding its government are less respected, and Canadian officials casually deny the public information about government for no other reason than to protect their own political agendas. Christie, at least, had enough regard for his public image to answer reporters’ questions for several hours, and apologize for the scandal.

What Harper and other Canadian politicians fail to realize is that, by managing political upsets with a degree of maturity, and by assuming responsibility for their actions, mistakes are likely to be forgotten much more quickly. Attempts to conceal the truth and divert the public’s attention only heighten frustrations and drag out the duration of the scandal. Harper and the senators involved in the expense scandal should take note of Christie’s handling of the bridgegate incident and respect the requests of the press, so that they may be held accountable for their mistakes.