Man, I used to be so damn diligent about the Academy Awards. I’d go out and see as many of the movies as I could, eagerly anticipate Oscar night, and occasionally liveblog the proceedings, both as a means of effective commentary and as a means to weasel my way out of actually writing a blog entry as opposed to just stringing together a bunch of one-liners about how Jeff Bridges played The Dude – more or less the Hair Guy equivalent of Twitter.
But I’m a TV man now, thanks in no small part to the fact that TV has the good sense to come meet me in my home while movies hunker down at the multiplex at Valley River Center and expect me not only to drive all the way out to see them in the car I don’t have, but also pay $10 when I get there. You know why so many people pirate movies, MPAA? Because leaving the house blows.
Since I gave up on movies in favor of TV, Oscar night has become the equivalent of bumping into your ex girlfriend at the mall and noticing that she’s looking particularly hot – so stylish and slickly edited that you forget all those times she charged you $15 for popcorn or led you to believe that Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull was a worthwhile use of anyone’s time. It makes you regret the fact that you only saw four of the Best Picture nominees, and wish you could go back Quantum Leap style and invest an additional 12 hours and $100 in the other six movies.
Danke schoen, film industry. For what it’s worth, here’s my impressions from tonight’s Academy Awards:
If weed was a person, and it couldn't be Seth Rogen or Cheech or Chong or Willie Nelson or...
I think James Franco’s logic was this: He knew that he lacks the inherent charisma to make such a good impression with his hosting that he’d get invited back for a second go around, so rather than put his best foot forward and do the job with the dignity it deserves, he just got really high beforehand, because if you’re only going to host the Academy Awards once, you may as well do it baked, right?
I mean, why did they pick James Franco, anyway? Not only does he not necessarily scream ‘charismatic host’, he was one of the nominated actors this year. I guess the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences just couldn’t find anybody more qualified – after all, this is just one of the most widely televised events of the year, and they did only have virtually every entertainer in Hollywood to choose from. Rock and a hard place. I understand.
Hey, I just made a 127 Hours joke! Can I host next year?
Best Supporting Actress
She was probably making all kinds of Parkinson's jokes during the Back To The Future reference at the beginning.
The awards were already off to a shaky start – the art directors didn’t exactly make compelling or well rehearsed speeches, and then Kirk Douglas, a national treasure and Hollywood icon, made a speech that, God bless him, was a bit awkward what with all the slow paced, racy comments about Anne Hathaway.*
*I shouldn’t criticize. If ever I’m lucky enough to meet Anne Hathaway, it’s going to be a real struggle not to wink at her and say, “Hey, thanks for getting naked in Brokeback Mountain. It really spoke to me, y’know?”
But then, he gave the award for Best Supporting Actress to Melissa Leo for The Fighter, a movie about Irish people in Boston yelling at each other that, sadly, is not The Departed. And she went up on the stage, accepted her award, and promptly said ‘fuck.’
Tacky? Yes. But not necessarily inexcusable. I say ‘fuck’ a lot, and I can’t guarantee you that I wouldn’t inadvertently do the same thing. But then, once she was done flapping her gums, she, Kirk Douglas, and his assistant turn around to walk off the stage and she takes his fucking cane away from him and mimes hobbling with it herself.
Allow me to clarify, Melissa Leo – Kirk Douglas is 94 years old and he had a stroke in the late 1990s. His need for that cane is far greater than your need to do slapstick prop comedy.
Best Original Score
The Inception score was basically one big tribute to this instrument.
The Social Network? Really, guys? Was there even music in that movie? It didn’t really make a big enough impression on me that I was aware of it. I mean, I’m sure it was fine, but I feel like if we’re going to bestow the film industry’s highest honor on something, it should be something that was good enough to at least be noteworthy.
Hey, you know what? Forget what I said. Let’s give the Congressional Medal of Honor to a single mother who works full time and completed her associate’s degree. I mean, she didn’t save a life or anything spectacular, but she’s doing really well, y’know?
Maybe this is just me and my friends, but whenever we mention Inception, or dreams, or the very act of falling asleep on a plane, somebody inevitably yells “BWAAAAAAAAAH,” in an homage to this song from the Inception score. There’s even an Inception noise button online.
Do you hear that, Academy? Inception’s score gave us an Internet meme. Did The Social Network’s score do that? Probably not, because a website where you push a button and hear part of an ultimately forgettable soundtrack wouldn’t be very popular.
All I’m saying is, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has now given Oscars to Eminem, Three 6 Mafia, and Trent Reznor, but not Paul Thomas Anderson. It’s almost like they don’t want me to go back to the movies.
Truman Capps feels just as clueless at the Emmys when they give out awards for reality TV – as though there’s anything worth rewarding there.