This is source I found from another site, main source you can find in last paragraph
Harvey Weinstein will never be thanked at the Oscars again.
It would have happened eventually—before it exploded, the Weinstein era of the Oscars was already slowly dissipating, the company’s most promising films in recent years handed a best-picture nomination and then sent on their way with no wins. It is a coincidence that The New Yorker and The New York Times published twin bombshell stories that ended Weinstein’s career just weeks after his company’s big awards hopeful for the year, The Current War, flopped at Toronto. It’s also not. The man who for nearly three decades used bullying and intimidation to get everything he wanted was visibly faltering; the claim he is often said to have made to his alleged victims, that he was a powerful guy who could end their careers if they spoke out, no longer seemed so true.
Now Weinstein, the man thanked as often as God in the last half-century of Oscar speeches, has been stripped of his Academy membership and any hope of a comeback. Seventy-nine (as of press time) women have accused him of sexual harassment or assault, ranging from attempted coercion to rape. At least one of those women, Gwyneth Paltrow, had thanked Weinstein in her Oscar acceptance speech, in 1999.
Away with Weinstein goes the illusion of the larger-than-life, throwback Hollywood power player; no single person looms as large over awards season, and possibly none ever will again. His infamous imperiousness, from badgering critics who didn’t like his films to spreading negative stories about his rivals, is now tied up inexorably in his alleged criminal acts. In an industry that has long embraced the myth of the charismatic tyrant, his bad behavior was relatively easy to overlook in favor of what he accomplished, from spinning unlikely hits out of foreign films and challenging indies to essentially inventing the multi-million-dollar industry of awards season. It will be up to the people now running that industry, many of them former Weinstein employees, to resolve whether his genius for promotion can be divorced from his allegedly monstrous conduct.
But removing Weinstein from the Academy roll and the guest list at the Governors Ball was one thing; untangling him from the past 20 years of Oscar races, or the next 20 to come, will be another—likely impossible. “People adapted to Harvey’s style in some ways,” one publicist who runs awards campaigns for indie films told me. “Even if he’s not in the race, how he changed the game is still there.”
For a company that made its name on the transgressive Pulp Fiction, Miramax traded primarily in sentimentality at the Oscars, often coupled with a feel-good liberal message that gave their films an extra gloss of Importance. (The Weinstein Company later perfected this play. Its most recent example: ads for the Alan Turing biopic The Imitation Game that exhorted voters to “Honor the Film. Honor the Man.”) As the Academy got more daring with its choices in recent years, Weinstein struggled to keep pace. His back-to-back best-picture wins at the beginning of the decade, for The King’s Speech and The Artist, were straight from the classic Weinstein template, shameless if well-crafted throwbacks that satisfied a voting body always eager to indulge its nostalgic streak. Lion, from 2016, likely the Weinstein Company’s final best-picture nominee, was a direct successor to those films; it went home empty-handed.
But of all the films in the race this year, only a handful of them, or actually maybe only Dunkirk, would have been considered contenders in a pre-Weinstein world. Running its first Oscar campaigns on a budget in the late 80s, Miramax embraced the early wave of screeners—on VHS tapes back then—and good old-fashioned free publicity to wrench open the door to a club that had been the exclusive domain of the studios. Without ads that salaciously teased the ending of The Crying Game, there is no A24 getting its sea legs in awards season with a tongue-in-cheek campaign for James Franco in 2013’s Spring Breakers, and then coming to dominate it several years later with Moonlight. Without the screenplay Oscar nomination for Sundance breakthrough Sex, Lies, and Videotape, there is no bidding war or 12-month buildup of buzz for films that premiere there like Call Me by Your Name or Manchester by the Sea.
Even studio films eventually began to play by Weinstein’s rules. The 1999 best-picture battle between Miramax’s Shakespeare in Love and DreamWorks’ Saving Private Ryan was so notoriously expensive that Weinstein threatened to sue New York magazine for reporting that he’d spent $5 million on the campaign; Weinstein was also rumored to be behind a whisper campaign against Ryan, the one that claimed it “peaks in the first 20 minutes.” (As The New Yorker reported in November, his efforts to undermine his accusers were extensive enough to employ private spies.)
Those smear campaigns aren’t ending just because Harvey’s out of the game. Nor are the exorbitantly expensive for-your-consideration ads, or the now standard screeners, or the aggressive courting of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, strategies Weinstein invented and deployed in brazen, international fashion. In 2014, Philomena Lee, the inspiration for the Weinstein Company’s 2013 best-picture nominee, Philomena, went to the Vatican to meet the Pope. In Oscar years that followed, Angelina Jolie, Martin Scorsese, and Leonardo DiCaprio all made their own visits to His Holiness. As the publicist put it, “Harvey, he knew his power, and wielded it.”
To credit all of this to Harvey Weinstein is to buy into the exact myth he has been crafting for decades; as he told Peter Biskind for Down and Dirty Pictures, “If I didn’t exist, they’d have to invent me—I’m the only interesting thing around.” That this myth helped hide a much bigger depravity is the original sin of modern awards season, which now must move even further beyond his influence than it already has, led by awards strategists trained by Weinstein himself. As IndieWire’s Anne Thompson, who has covered awards season for 25 years, told me, “The level of sophistication of these Oscar campaigns has gone beyond what he created, to the point where everyone is shaping a story.”
This year, that story very well may be the Anti-Harvey Narrative. No film would be caught actually capitalizing on the scandal for its benefit, but the strategists behind female-fronted contenders such as Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, and Lady Bird are surely thinking of ways to swing the mood of the moment toward their films. In the wake of the Weinstein scandal, Hollywood seems to be making genuine efforts to tear down the systems of power that made his abominable personal behavior possible. But the eco-system of Oscar campaigning that Weinstein invented remains stronger than ever, spreading millions in ad spends and box-office bumps across the industry, and benefiting genuinely great films in the process. It all makes for a confounding paradox. The more this year’s contenders portray themselves as representatives of a new, post-Harvey era, the more they run the risk of upholding his self-realized myth.