The World After the Oscars

My Oscar blog is late and irrelevant. I'll give you a choice: you can stop reading now, or show a little faith in my writing and hang on.

The Oscars are the only awards show I even remotely tolerate, and I do so barely. The entire evening is more or less designed to infuriate me. If you've ever been involved in any type of production with me, you would know that my first complaint about any show is that it's too long. It's not that I have an attention deficit, as I actually have something of an attention surplus that makes me pay attention even when every aspect of my consciousness is screaming at me to tune out--that's why I know how fast an elephant can run and can remember every single embarrassing thing you said when you were drunk. It's just that I hate wasted effort and useless content.

You see, The Oscars are holding four hours of our lives hostage. They know that we are willing to watch 236 minutes of mind-numbing drivel because we're afraid of missing the four minutes worth of programming that we're actually interested in. That's why they've stretched out what could be handled in a tight fifteen minutes into the Bataan Death March of Self-Congratulation. They're selling ads based on our fear of missing something, and we're afraid to turn away even for a second lest we're unable to keep up at the water cooler the next morning. They've got us right where General Motors wants us.

I'm part of the problem. I watched. I speculated. I sat through lame introductions that made me throw up a little in my mouth. I even became slightly invested in an awards show honoring movies I mostly hadn't seen. Days after the fact, here are the things that have stuck with me:

1. I applaud Jon Stewart for keeping it simple. I appreciate a host who gets in, gets out, and doesn't try to do too much. He was the Fabricio Oberto of hosting.

2. Once again, the British continue to dominate us in acting, presenting and accepting. They do all of it better than we do, and they do so in a gracious, almost maternal way. It's as if they're saying, "These silly upstart Yanks. Soon they will once again long for the warm embrace of the empire, and we will welcome them back into the fold alongside Akrotiri and The Pitcairn Islands." The British should act as the designated hitters of acceptance speeches. They should keep American actors from boring us and embarrassing themselves.

3. Tilda Swinton is obviously deeply insane, and I love her for it. She is a jagged, androgynous scarecrow, and I truly hope that some day I get to see her fight Cate Blanchett in a steel cage. The White Witch versus Galadriel: Two wispy, ethereal waifs enter; one wispy, ethereal waif leaves. They would both stab each other viciously with their own cheekbones and clavicles.

At any rate, her acceptance speech was awesome. It was one of the four minutes I was glad I was paying attention for. I have seen Tilda Swinton in movies I didn't like (Orlando, for instance, which is only slightly more acceptable than the city of the same name), but I haven't ever not liked Tilda Swinton in a movie. Watching her act opposite Keanu Reeves in Constantine was the cinematic equivalent of what Rome did to Carthage at the end of the Punic Wars--she defeated him, burned him to the ground, plowed all evidence of his foundations into the soil itself, then salted the earth to ensure no seed would ever find purchase there again.

4. Instead of Best Actor or Best Actress, they should simply give awards for Best Role. You know who should get an award for Best Actor? The guy who makes an otherwise deplorable movie almost credible. Beau Bridges should get an Oscar for his work in Stick It. Did anyone not know that Daniel Day Lewis was taking home hardware? His name was literally forged into the metal as the statue was cast.

5. In the same vein, should Elizabeth: The Golden Age even be allowed to compete in the Best Costume category? I think someone should get an Oscar for those track suits in Juno. I haven't even seen the movie and that image is emblazoned in my brain.

6. I am convinced that even as he was delivering his speech on stage, Jack Nicholson was having sex with a twenty year-old woman.

7. I never, ever want to see another nominee for Best Original Song performed on stage...unless it involves John Fogerty.

8. Does anyone else think the irony of the President of Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences making one of the worst short films in the history of mankind is just a little too much? His stupid little segment about the Academy voting and tabulation process was so bad, it made Jesus violently angry.

9. It is as if Nicole Kidman's hairline was frightened by her eyebrows and is fleeing in terror to the back of her head.

10. It is as if Tom Hank's head is growing but his face is shrinking. He looks more and more like a jack o' lantern with each passing year.

11. The people who won the Oscar for Best Make Up were without question the two ugliest people I have ever seen. Their visages could strip paint and kill lab rats. As my friend Gordy put it, "Physician, heal thyself."

12. If you ever thought The Academy Awards were in any way legitimate, consdier this: Norbit was nominated for an Oscar.

13. If you win the Oscar as a part of a two person team, then you make damn good and sure you get to say your thank-yous first--unless you're a spritely independent film maker with a dialect.

14. If I were in charge of the biggest awards show in the world, and two presenters in a row almost wiped out because the stage was wet or slick or whatever, I would put down a rug or call in a Zamboni or something. When Collin Farrell is the voice of reason, you have gone horribly astray. How was he able to so easily spot impending disaster in this small, subtle instance, yet could not see the oncoming freight train that was Alexander?

15. I really haven't been to the movies much since Isaac was born. I need to get out more.

16. I did see No Country For Old Men, and I'm glad I did.

17. If you're going to wear a dress that exposes your genitals, then I am assuming you are comfrotable with having your genitals exposed. If you're going to be incredibly uncomfortable concerning the visibility of said genitals, why not wear a different dress? Also, wouldn't someone who professionally displayed her genitals in the past be less worried about displaying them now? Stop sending mixed signals, Diablo Cody, and congratulations.

Good night.