We will speak more of the Oscars BUT...When you have a woman as beautiful as the divine Charlize why, oh, why would you stick her in a dress that is 1) hideous and 2) doesn't even fit her. I was appalled. Did they dope her up in order to get her to consent? At some point in the evening did the opium wear off and she was suddenly confronted with the horror that she was? Has anybody checked on her today? I'm worried about her...
Indeed I am worried about Charlize who had to endure not only an Oscar loss (predictable though it may have been) but also wearing some sort of wrapped number that looks like it was made with green crepe paper. Let's hope the roofies have worn off.
I am also worried about our darling Jon Stewart; I put on a good face, showered him with a mother's affection, but the cold hard truth is he bombed. Hard-core. It would have been bad if he'd been actively horrible, but in the end he was just flat. Boring- an adjective I would never associate with Stewart, but there you are. And flat is worse. I lost interest. It was depressing to watch. Cintra Wilson smells a conspiracy against the beloved fake-anchor, and there is a yearning in my heart for it to be so, but we must face the truth: Jon Stewart bombed.
But the show went on. We were dragged through endless montages of classic films and themes, jumped up and down when Hoffman won for best leading role (I did in any case) and Crash inexplicably breezed by Brokeback Mountain to score best picture. The only major award I think Brokeback actually won was best adapted screenplay for Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana, a huge surprise for the talking heads with all the "buzz." Don't get me wrong, Crash was an excellent film. And in the end it was safe movie. You mean there are racial tensions in L.A.? AND they're complicated?! Get out of town! But the Academy will go with what's safe- and, in the end, gay cowboys (or shepherds) are not safe. Cest la vie.
So it was a safe year for Oscar, with worthy films, and, if anything, announced the graduation of George Clooney from A-list star to Hollywood GOD, a la Jack Nicholson. Let's just hope he doesn't start wearing those horrible sunglasses.
A final word to our friend Jon Stewart, who is probably nursing a massive hang-over after drowning his sorrows in champagne:
It's all right Jon. We love you. People have bombed the Oscars before you, and they will bomb them after. Stiff upper lip, old boy. You are still our leading man.
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