Pure Excitement

Yes, ladies, gentlemen and House of Boogie faithful, the Oscars telecast was pure excrement. Errr...excitement. Honest mistake...especially if you too watched any of last night's telecast.

I avoided watching most of the Oscar presentations due to a heavy workload of, um, work, and a variety of other mini-projects, which include (but are not limited to) dinner, working on some home videos-turned-DVD's, and upgrading some components in my home PC. I also spent a good bit o' time talking to my other half, who was as apthetic, if not moreso, about the Academy Awards Ceremony. She, like I, normally enjoys watching the Awards (she probably gets more excited about the what-they're-wearing factor than me), but since neither of us saw any of the five nominees for Best Picture and neither lamented nor regretted that fact, we were both completely disinterested.

However...having said that, last night was the first time since I can remember that I was home, in front of a television and not really interested in watching the Oscars. And boy did it suck. Nothing was on television other Iron Chef America (aka the Bobby Flay Promotion Show), some college basketball game featuring ugly cheerleaders, the Hooters Volleyball Invitational (you've got to be kidding me) and a bass fishing contest from Louisiana (and I don't care how much I think Chris Rock is an idiot, listening to his bullshit is less painful than watching three white guys sit in a boat fishing for bass wearing "I'm With Stupid" t-shirts). Hello, Oscar!

So I endured the inane, ridiculous, masturbatory early awards (does anyone but three geeks from MIT care about Best Use of Math in a non-animated short?) and wondered why they decided to give out awards in the audience. I guess they figured the show didn't suck enough, so they tried upping the ante. Mission accomplished.

Then they moved into a few more awards which I thoroughly failed to understand. Best use of editing in a foreign short which doesn't depict death or AIDS or soccer? Please. And I know there's 400 people behind the camera to film a thirty-second scene on film, but does every single award recipient have to thank the grips, the light-holders, the guy from Kraft Services and his wife, Mildred? Granted, if I was a film star and won an Oscar I 'spose I'd thank the grips, light-holders, the guy from Kraft Services and, if applicable, my wife Mildred, but fer chrissakes, pass out all these snooze-fest-type awards prior to the damn telecast so we can go through the entire presentation in, like, thirty seconds. We're a nation of ADD, MTV, DOA and ED (well some of us) and there is no humanly possible way anyone could or would be physically able to sit through three hours of "Best Editing by a nine-fingered man with polyps on his Colon" awards to reach the grand prize of the six biggies: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Supporting Actor and Best Supporting Actress; for good measure, toss in Best Original Screenplay and call it a day. Done. Pomp and circumstance is all well and good, but the only people willing to watch the entire telecast are people who have a vested interest in who wins, namely the egomaniacal, breast-taping, corset-wearing, anorexia-laden, silicone/botox-injected men and women who, for one night, have to both portray themselves for an extended period of time and not come off as assholes in the process. The show is what, seven hours long? It's like Roots, only with all white people and better grammar. Truncate, truncate, truncate. Or as they say in New Yawk: cut the fucker down to a manageable 90 minutes or we're going to go watch Arena Football and Infomercials. Toot sweet.

I will say this: on a positive note, Chris Rock didn't come off as too much of an idiot, which is a rarity. And Jamie Fox winning an Oscar for his portrayal of Ray Charles is awesome -- while I have a nagging feeling in the back of my head that this project exploited the legacy of Ray Charles, seeing Jamie's humility in accepting the award reassured me that, hopefully, the movie's success will insure that a new generation of fans gets exposed to the music and the greatness of Ray Charles. The guy was a true genius and a legend, and will never be replaced, especially in the era of Beyonce, Puff Diddy and Celine Dion (ack).

I get the Cates/Kates confused, so I couldn't care less which, if any, of them won for Supporting Actress honors. But I was absolutely thrilled that Morgan Freeman won -- despite not having seen Million Dollar Baby, I have never seen an actor whose work, without exception, merits praise and is thoroughly exceptional. Even his portrayal of God in Bruce Almighty was believable; and if anyone could carry the weight of the suspension of disbelief, it's him. He and Clint Eastwood (and Gene Hackman) were incredible in Unforgiven, so I had no doubt his performance in Million Dollar Baby, regardless of the content of the film, would be more than worthwhile. I am similarly sure Hillary Swank's performance was impressive, but judging by the ugliness of her dress, I wish she would take Meryl Streep and Jodie Foster and go to a Glamour Academy. Feh. And her acceptance speech was no less irritating than the dress, by the way.

I cannot be any happier than I was when it was revealed Clint Eastwood won awards for Best Director and Best Picture. If you poll anyone in Hollywood (other than Sondra Locke) I doubt you'll encounter anything negative about him; he's a gentleman, a good guy, and a great actor/director. I was hooked long before the Dirty Harry movies, but everything he's done (with the exception of the Every Which Way But Awful movies and Bronco Billy) leaves me smiling. And you know -- you KNOW -- when a President quotes you (Reagan: "Go ahead...make my day") you're doing something right. I'm genuinely pleased he won the awards, and at 74, it occurred to me that he's another legend that might not be active for very much longer. So I am glad that he is being recognized for his ability and not merely as a former version of himself. If you build it, they will come.

All in all, not a bad way to spend an Oscar evening, although it would have been better if my other half was over and we were distracting each other during the telecast. Odds are we wouldn't have even bothered turning on the TV.

Better luck next year.