Jude Will Never Work Again!

Ahh, the Oscars. They’re totally shallow and pointless, and yet I can’t stop watching. Usually I look forward to Oscar night, but this year I just wasn’t in the mood--which is weird, since my two favorite actresses (Natalie Portman and Kate Winslet) were both nominated. So I watched the show anyway, because I knew that if I taped it to watch later, I’d just come to work this morning, find out who won, and that would be the end of it. So I struggled through and actually ended up enjoying most of it--even though none of the people I was really rooting for ended up winning. But that happens to me every year, so it wasn’t much of a surprise. (I put no credence in the Academy’s picks anyway, since they’re always wrong as far as I’m concerned--and I’m always right. Right?)

Before the show, Orlando Bloom was talking to one of those red carpet monkeys (I wanna say it was Chris Connelly, but honestly I can’t remember if that’s right), and Chris had just asked him why Johnny Depp is such a well-respected actor. Orlando got about one and a half sentences into his answer when Chris interrupted him to say something like “Good to see you, Orlando; now let’s throw it over to that other carpet monkey who’s talking to someone more famous than you are.” Burn! (To borrow parlance from That ’70s Show.) The worst part, of course, is that Chris hadn’t even asked Orlando about himself, but rather about an actor he had worked with in the past. Double burn! I’ve often said that Chris Connelly is the only good thing to come out of MTV, but I might just have to revise my opinion.

Here’s something else that I thought was a bit tacky: Was it necessary to cut to Sean Combs when Chris Rock made the joke about the Source Awards? Cutting to every black person in the room during Chris’s opening monologue was to be expected, I suppose, but cutting to the one black rapper in the room after a joke about guns was ill advised in my opinion. Not that I’m into political correctness or anything, it just seemed uncool.

As for the show’s treatment of the ghetto awards (e.g., best art direction, best makeup, etc.), I’m a bit torn. It makes total sense to bring all the nominees on stage for the announcement since those poor suckers are always in the cheap seats, which means a full minute or two of airtime is wasted while we wait for them to walk to the podium. But the people who got their awards in the audience--and weren’t even allowed to go on stage for their acceptance speech--got screwed over. Let’s do some math. There are something like two dozen awards given out on Oscar night. Half of them are given to people we’ve never heard of, and they get, literally, 30 seconds to say what they have to say. The other half get maybe 45 seconds to a minute, depending on who they are. That’s somewhere between 15 and 17 minutes total for all the speeches of the night (if you don’t include Sidney Lumet, which I don’t). The broadcast lasts about 4 hours, which means the speeches account for about 6 percent of the broadcast. What is wrong with this picture?

I’ll tell you what’s wrong (‘cause I got opinions, in case I haven’t made that clear already). The problem is the musical numbers--and the problem with the musical numbers can be summed up in two words: Counting Crows. If you need a few more words, how about “Antonio Banderas.” I find it strange that “Best Song” is the award that always gets the most screen time during the Oscars broadcast. Even the “Best Picture” trailers don’t take up as much time as the songs do. It wouldn’t be such a drag if (a) the songs weren’t written by washed-up pop stars whom nobody cares about anymore (i.e., Phil Collins, Randy Newman, Sting), (b) the songs didn’t sound like they were written by washed-up pop stars whom nobody cares about anymore, and (c) the washed-up pop stars weren’t allowed to perform these songs during the broadcast.

That said, I wasn’t unhappy with Beyonce’s total domination of the musical numbers. In fact, my favorite “what the hell?” moment of the evening was when she sang in French while surrounded by a bunch of miniature movie theater ushers. Also, I didn’t see The Phantom of the Opera (because Webber’s musical is bad enough, and because the movie version was directed by Joel Schumacher, and because...well, how many reasons do you need?), but I laughed when the actress from that movie introduced the nominated song but didn’t get to sing it. Especially since it was Beyonce’s second appearance of the night, which made it seem like even more of a slap in the face. Welcome to Hollywood, sweetheart!

Back to Sean Combs: When he got up on stage and said he was there to introduce a song from a “hip” film, I assumed (based on the expectations the show had set up for me so far, i.e., by cutting to a black person in the audience whenever anyone said something about black people) that he was there to introduce a song from Ray. Then when he said “Polar Express” I wondered if it was the start of a lame joke. But it wasn’t. So I have to ask, Who invited Sean Combs to the Oscars? And why? He was the only guy there with absolutely no connection of movies in any way, shape, or form. Regardless, the dude who sang this particular song with Beyonce looked scared beyond belief, and at times he was as flat as a pancake. If the Counting Crows hadn’t showed up, this definitely would’ve been the worst performance of the night.

Speaking of worsts, the worst introduction was for Mike Myers, who was introduced as “the lovable Mike Myers.” What a ridiculous adjective to attach to a comedian, or to anyone whom you don’t know personally, for that matter. Or did they introduce him with an adjective because they were afraid we were going to confuse him with another Mike Myers?

Sidney Lumet’s honorary Oscar was nice, I guess. I like a few of his movies, but pretty much all I got out of his movie montage was the shock of seeing Vin Diesel with hair, and then deciding that Vin Diesel looks like a total nerd when he’s not bald.

You know what makes me sad? The “clapping wave” that takes place during the In Memoriam section of the show. Christopher Reeve gets claps and shouts and whistles--all of which he deserves--but the screenwriter who wrote two hits in the 1960s and then fell into obscurity is lucky to get those polite golf claps reserved for the unfamiliar. It’s great that they get recognized, but it’s sad that they don’t get recognized, if that makes any sense...

And now, to borrow a bit from the lovely and talented Kristin, I present a memo addressed to the stodgiest actor in Hollywood:

Dear Sean Penn,

Holy shit, man--you need to develop a sense of humor. Seriously, I am begging you. Jude Law doesn’t need you to defend him from someone who makes fun of people for a living. Especially since, as Chris pointed out, Jude’s been in quite a few popular movies lately. More, in fact, than you have been a part of for several years now. So relax! Jeezus.

Sincerely,
Mark

P.S. By saying “these are the Academy’s favorites this year” before announcing Best Actress, you basically diminished Hilary Swank’s much-deserved Oscar. Not that she cared (or even noticed), but still. Don’t be such a dick.

P.P.S. Please don’t punch me in the head. Thank you.

And finally, I was glad to see the Oscars continuing its tradition of recruiting whacked-out actors to announce the winner of the Best Film award. Dustin Hoffman was, without a doubt, completely drunk. He slurred every single word and seemed more than a little disoriented. Barbara was, as usual, of no help whatsoever--since she forgot to bring her reading glasses on stage with her. Talk about a show stopper.

So that’s it for my take on the broadcast. For the record, here were my picks:

Best Actress: Kate Winslet, my second-favorite actress. Though Hilary Swank certainly did a fine job and deserved to win, too.

Best Actor: I think both Johnny Depp and Leonardo DiCaprio are better actors than Jamie Foxx, but all three of them were nominated for playing historical figures and biopics tend to bore the hell out of me, so whatever. (And not that it matters, but the tattoo on the back of Jamie’s head is completely distracting.)

Best Supporting Actor: Morgan Freeman was the right choice, definitely. The man said “Heavens to murgatroid” when he walked up to the podium! I thought that was awesome. I mean, he’s suave, he’s gracious, and he has the coolest voice in Hollywood, so how can you go wrong? (I also enjoyed his sly wink to the camera during Al Pacino’s introduction of Sidney Lumet.) That said, I would’ve liked to see the dude from Wings win, if only because it would’ve been kind of funny to watch Lowell give a speech.

Best Supporting Actress: Natalie Portman, naturally. Cate Blanchett’s a great actress, but again I’m not a big fan of the biopic thing. Besides, this was Natalie’s first truly grown-up role, and she gave it her all (and no, I’m not referring to the stripper scene; or, at least, not just to the stripper scene).

Best Picture: I guess Million Dollar Baby was the right choice, since I really don’t have much of an opinion on the other four (biopic, biopic, biopic, and a movie about wine).

Best Director: With each passing year, Clint Eastwood reminds me of my grandfather more and more. So he’s okay by me. Oh yeah, and he made a pretty good movie, too.