Oscar Wrap-up (2006)

All in all, it seemed like my night. Not my dear Jon Stewart's night. Not Cloons' night, although those camera people certainly thought it was. No, it seemed like my night. The night for Elfin April to shine.

First, George Clooney stepped up to the podium to collect his conciliation Oscar since he sure as hell wasn't going to pick up anything else that night (that is, aside from a willing female companion, unless he really is dating Teri Hatcher. Heck, even then). He, as is his wont, looked dapper and sexy and basically maintained his duties as the Platonic Ideal of Movie Stars even though he's never so much as attended the Academy Awards before. Then he gave a speech that both nodded to the fact that the Oscars are stupid and acknowledged his (mostly) worthy peers. Elfin April was one for one and feeling fine.

Rachel Weisz ascended the stage next and rattled off rote little speech that I had no real problems with because I was much, much too distracted by those little rectangles of fabric that had been stitched over her shoulders at the last minute to cover up her gang tats. So distracted, in fact, that I couldn't marvel over how well disguised the seven month old baby living in her belly was. Elfin April: two for two.

By the time Hoffman ascended the stage for his expected speech, all quivering hands and forehead rubbing, I was charmed enough to think that the love of his single mom and the complete lack of thank yous to anyone else in the cast seemed logical enough. I mean, he's either a credible enough actor to convince us that he was surprised by his win or he was genuinely surprised. Plus, he's won so many of these things by now, in addition to giving such a moving speech about the cast working together at the SAG Awards, that I don't really know who else he could have to thank (besides me, of course, tireless champion of the Hoff for some time now). Elfin April: three for three.

I had to steel myself for best actress for I had considered a Huffman upset remotely possible. But, huzzah, all my steeling was unnecessary as Witherspoon collected her due, gave the only speech of the evening to move me to tears, thanking both the real life inspirations behind the roles in Walk the Line, her wonderful costar, Joaquin, and never mentioning her obviously addicted husband by name. At four for four, I assumed I was a lock.

So much so, I'll have you know, that I started throwing up predictions on the fly and getting them right: both screenplay categories and foreign film. I've not seen a single foreign film nominee, and I still called that one. Because that's my job people. That's my job.

When they handed over Lee's supremely earned Oscar, Elfin April was flying high. Everything was turning out exactly the way I said it would, and I had no cause for complaints. Well, at least not about anything I had predicted. I mean, Dolly Parton owned that stage, and she sure as shootin' didn't have dumb ass "interpretative" dancers behind for the sole purpose of annoying me.

And, then, Jack Nicholson appeared for the top of the show. He already knew he was going to be tapping Keira Knightley that night (why else would they have been sitting together?), and now all he had to do was crack the seal on the final envelop. So he did. And he announced. And then he said, "Whoa."

Warning: This is the point in the show where Elfin April looses all senses of decency and sanity. Cover your virgin ears, or eyes, as the case may be.

WHAT THE FUCK?! Crash? Crash?! Are you fucking kidding me with this shit? Never mind the fact that it wasn't even the same league as the other four nominees, it wasn't even in the top 10! Or the top 25! I mean, people, this is the year that I submitted to Constantine, Aeon Flux, and Fantastic Four. I'd still rather see any of them again than have to suffer through Crash again. I mean, I know Paul Haggis' previous work, Million Dollar Baby, has its detractors, but, really, this movie wasn't even in the same league as that one. It doesn't even come close. I'm pretty sure that it could eclipse Crash, stereotypical subplot included.

Sure, I probably should have calmed down by now. On the grand scale, you could say, it's not like they elected Bush for a third term or anything as painful as that. Except for one thing, hunny: you've come to the wrong blog. It is that bad. In fact, I'm sitting here, and I'm starting to see similarities between the two. And, frankly, to enumerate them would be insulting to Bush.

Nonetheless, allow me to share my ire for a few seconds more.

Among my numerous pet peeves are people who talk during lectures. Whatever it is you have to say isn't important on any level. One of the things I am hearing could help me get an A, and one will surely drive me to a homicidal rage. Guess which category the stupid bitches sitting behind me this afternoon fall into? They buzzed, buzzed, buzzed all through class because they are illiterate and therefore cannot manage to write notes back and forth like normal people. Class ends, and they continue talking. I overhear this conversation as I pack up:

1: Did you watch the Oscars last night?
2: Yeah. They were really long, though.
Me: Shut the fuck up. They moved along at an extraordinarily good clip, especially when you consider the 4 hour plus crap fest Gil Cates submitted us to last year. It's pretty clear that neither one of you peroxided idiots have watched the program before.
1: Yeah, I was really glad that Crash won, though.
Me: Fuck off.
2: Yeah, me, too. I mean, I liked Brokeback Mountain and all, but Crash was just so . . . (she completely trails off, at a loss for words to describe how much of whatever it was to her. I had her back)
Me: Asinine? Infantile? Narrow-minded? Smug? Unnecessary? Poorly casted?

Sadly, number two just went on and on about how "people" were "divided" about Brokeback and how her mom liked Crash better. Thanks for that, number 2.

I don't care about how Crash had been "building" "momentum" for the last two weeks. I really, really don't. It takes a truly arrogant writer to attempt to boil down all the problems in Los Angeles on any given day to one single issue, try to prove that by creating any number of improbable situations, and then finally weigh the whole thing down with impossible dialogue. Or, as I have said before, any movie that pretends that the only problem in the world today is racism is just as stupid as one that pretends racism doesn't exist.

Or, as I said last night, "Fuck you, Crash." Same goes for the Academy right about now. Now I'm stuck at my last year's average, which is 5/6.

Okay, moving right along in this already lengthy post. Props to Jon. The opening monologue was a little shaky, but you brought it back. You made us laugh but not too hard, suggesting that you could only get better at the gig with time. Plus, you know, that little dance you did right at the end of the intro sequence? Priceless. Still sexy, baby.

Dressing room: Jake needs to shave, thank goodness Philip S. did, Michelle's lipstick clashed with her dress, Ziyi looked lovely, Naomi/Charlize offended my eyes, Nicole was as beautiful as ever, Judi totally punched Jon in the nads after the show. Oh, and Lily and Meryl rocked even if I didn't entirely understand all of Robert's speech (no, seriously, why are you telling us about some dead woman?).

Most importantly, someone, for the love of peace, tell me who Joaquin loves. WHO DID HE SAY I LOVE YOU TO?! Because it, unfortunately, did not look like Elfin April.

P.S. I know now is the time for the annual top ten list, and I have one, but this post is already so damn long that it will have to wait. Plus, I'm needed for a game of Minesweeper Flags.