Sunday, February 27, 2005

Oscars

Set to begin in a few moments. I don't know what time the actual awards start, though. The first two hours could be the succession of dresses, tuxedos, jewelry, brittle AARP card-carrying fashion correspondents, carpets (what's the difference between a rug and a carpet anyway? Doesn't the move-ability of the Red Carpet make it more of a rug?), and what not that nobody pretends to care about yet everyone secretly fawns over. Except me, of course.

The big stories going into the Oscars seem to be 1, that everyone's got MDB as a lock for best picture, which makes no sense to me, and 2, Cate Blanchett is favored as the Supporting Actress, which makes sense since Hollywood loves nothing more than staring into the limid pool of its own relevancy. Whatever. At least it might make things interesting for the Oscar pool, which I am sure to win (Annette Bening? Come on.).

2 Comments:

At 10:18 PM, Blogger Mike said...

Congratulations Annette Bening on your oscar night triumph. Congratulations as well to this year's best documentary, the story of a species of forelorn, humped mammal that we hear far too little about. Congratulations to Thelma Schoonmaker for editing her first feature film all by herself after just learning to edit last week in a weekend seminar held in the Fiesta Room of the Days Inn, Downy, CA.

 
At 9:27 AM, Blogger Seb said...

Well, Mike, as long as we're handing out Oscars not for current works, but for what someone did ten or twenty years ago, I'd like to present some retroactive Oscars right now: to Francis Ford Coppola for "Jack," the courageous and provocative meditation on aging and childhood; to Joel and Ethan Coen for the side-splitting screwball comedy "The Ladykillers," and also to Marc Forster, who built magnificently on the success of "Monster's Ball" with the touching saga of JM Barrie in "Finding Neverland." After all, we are all quite aware that artistic merit should not be calculated on the work in question, but for works that have come decades before. Duh.

 

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