Two guys and the Oscars Musings about the awards after the awards
I don’t normally watch the Academy Awards, but this year I was sick, and a suicide cocktail of over-the-counter cold remedies had kept me confined to the recliner for many days of flipping channel after channel.
By the time the Oscars rolled around I knew the entire daytime lineup by heart. I was caught up with all the soap operas, and I could name every Teletubby. Since I had seen everything normal television programming had to offer, I figured why not add a few smug hours of celebrity voyeurism to my repertoire? This year I was going to watch the Oscars.
I got started early, watching red carpet fashion updates on E! with everybody’s last pick for a mother-in-law, Joan Rivers. The celebs were in perfect form. Famous couples did their best to look happy while up-and-comers did their best to look comfortable under the scrutiny of an estimated 800 million viewers. Jennifer Lopez (or J Lo as she is now being called) made another play for maximum camera time by selecting minimal coverage for her million dollar bod, no doubt sending half the male population on a downloading spree to add the new pictures to their J Lo fan sites.
Soon it was time for the Oscars. Pouring another hefty dose of NyQuil, I settled in. This year’s ceremony was hosted by Steve Martin. His presence was refreshingly irreverent as he made it a point to mock several of the nominees throughout the course of the evening. He even made reference to Russell Crowe’s lecherous habits. Crowe looked, well, really pissed.
Crowe’s demeanor didn’t change much when he was awarded best actor. He did manage to give a coy little speech that sounded like it had been lifted from the pages of a motivational self-help book. “For those of us on the downside of advantage,” he said pausing meaningfully and casting his eyes off into the distance, “it’s possible.” How nice.
Most of the program went routinely, with one noted exception – Bjork’s choice of wardrobe during her musical number. It was a swan. Not a real one, of course, but a stuffed one that you might win at the fair if all the tigers had been taken. Rumor has it that she was going to do the number in another dress, but it was even more revealing than J Lo’s wispy little number.
The odds makers were correct with most of their Oscar predictions. Russell got his and Julia got hers. “Gladiator” hacked and slashed its way to the top, proving once again that grand, sweeping pictures always win the prize. Ridley Scott was pushed aside by twice-nominated Steven Soderbergh for best director.
“Crouching Tiger” should have gotten best picture, but the Academy has a way of keeping foreigners from winning the top prize – it’s called “best foreign film.” This less-prestigious award, on a par with the “most improved” and “miss congeniality” awards given out in other venues, keeps the best picture award in America where it belongs. After all, winning Best Picture is big money and assures the winning film’s makers huge revenues in video sales and re-releases. Giving the prize to a foreigner is like donating money to communists.
Now it’s time for a new season of films and I can’t wait. This year’s lineup includes “The Mummy Returns,” “Tomb Raider,” “Jurassic Park 3,” “Planet of the Apes” and “American Pie 2” to name a few. See you at the movies and don’t forget to go out and buy a swan dress.
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