I watched The Oscars ...
. . . and all I got was this lousy article
EVAN JOHNSON STAFF
Whether you think the Oscars are humankind’s greatest achievement, a sparkling orgy of unimpeachable genius and scintillating talent, crammed into a delicious, four-hour multimedia showbiz romp, or a wretched dungheap of embarrassing, narcissistic twaddle, one thing’s for sure: it’s all a colossal waste of time and effort. Luckily, here I am, with my two cents. Don’t worry: I have a film degree.
Yes, too glib to provide insight, too broad and obvious to provide any real laughter, too vulgar to leave your dignity intact, far too late to be timely or informative, and too offline to be ontologically legitimate, I present my Oscar “blog” in low-fi, tree-destroying, finger-smudging print form. Nothing about it is helpful or amusing; in this, it captures the true spirit of the evening.
7:34 p.m. Host Ellen DeGeneres takes the stage. Finally, a Jewish Oscar host, after all these years. Her monologue is bright and silly and shames 2006’s host, Jon Stewart, who was smug and boring. Her jokes are funny, but not too funny. As a viewer, that makes me feel comfortable and adequate. A good start.
7:45 The first award! I thought they’d break out the big guns, a big category for a punchy opening; Best Picture right off the bat! But no, it’s something called Best Art Direction, presented by Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig. Not to be crass, but if I had to choose I’d have sex with Daniel Craig. Eugenio Caballero and Pillar Revuelta, for Pan’s Labyrinth, are the first winners from the much-ballyhooed plethora of nominated Mexicans. First boring acceptance speech; a long list of thanks. Maybe you should thank lax border control. (Just kidding, Mexicans!)
7:59 Two adorable children present the award for Best Animated Short. Man, their banter is uninspired, and their timing is way off. I don’t care how old you are, this is live television! Wake the fuck up!
8:10 Commercial break. Not the first, but the most memorable so far, it features one of those “Get Crackin’” egg commercials. This big egg runs around and it’s just really funny!
8:13-9:45 I have no record of what occurred during this time.
9:56 Céline Dion sings during the Ennio Morricone tribute montage. God I hate her and her stupid loser face.
10:06 Hmm. Hugh Jackman is quite a bit taller than Penelope Cruz.
10:11 Kirsten Dunst is pretty much the same height as Tobey McGuire.
10:15 In order to kill time while the winner takes the stage, each award is accompanied with a pithy tidbit about the winner. This one (Best Original Screenplay) takes the cake as most embarrassing: “In order to write Little Miss Sunshine, Michael Arndt had to quit his job as an assistant to Mathew Broderick.” Damn!
10:21 Fell asleep, but now I’m awake again. Or am I? The stage is dimly lit and covered with tall, black grass. Perhaps a musical number? Suddenly, an Ottoman Turk, his gait pained and uneasy, emerges on stage pushing a small mahogany box which rests on an unusual glass trolley. Now directly in the centre of the stage, the Turk opens the box and greedily plunges his hand inside. After some rooting around, during which the expression on his face suffers a series of rapid shifts, now perplexed, now hopeful, he removes his hand to reveal . . . nothing at all. Disappointed, he repeats the whole affair, but once again his dramatic actions yield no results. Behind this curious display, on a giant screen, a swirl of black smoke gradually gives way to a number of images, highlights from films not nominated this year: a boy in lederhosen crouches before a vast cave in which his toy trumpet has been irretrievably lost; a young couple sit in a parlour, laughing heartily over the strange behaviour of their newly acquired antique clock; a disillusioned storeowner weeps openly as he strikes random dates from his brightly-coloured wall calendar, a gift from his late sister whose cause of death remains unknown.
10:54 Now I’m actually awake, just in time to see Best Actress. Helen Mirren wins, for The Queen, in which I’m told she played some kind of royalty, a duchess, maybe, or a baroness. Wow, she looks good. She’s my mother’s age, but I find her sexually appealing. That confuses me.
10:56 It occurs to me that I may have slept through the dead-people montage. That’s the most heartstring-tugging part! I wonder who got the most applause. Robert Altman, I bet. Move over other dead famous people, this is Altman’s hour!
11:01 Completely worn down, utterly depressed, covered in Cheeto dust and drenched in self-loathing, I decide to pack it in. How can you care who wins what for four hours?! After a while you just get desensitized to this stuff.
3:41 a.m. Can’t sleep. Blood in my stool. Ah, Oscar night.
