Monday, February 26, 2007

The Morning After The Most Self-Important Night of the Year

Not bad. I only missed on Eddie Murphy instead of Alan Arkin (who, by the way, was fabulous as the grandfather "get all the pussy you can!") in "Little Miss Sunshine" and also deserved to win.

I have to admit it, I was starting to nod a little by 11:15 p.m. (eastern). Oscar night is one of the few nights of the year that I envy my left-coast friends for whom the Oscar broadcast begins practically in the middle of supper and ends at a decent hour.

I felt sorry for Peter O'Toole who, most likely, will now never win a "real" Oscar (I'm pretty sure they gave him some sort of "Lifetime Achievement" consolation prize a few years back).

The women all looked lovely. There were no real "fashion-don'ts" last night a la the famous "Dead Goose" that hung around Bjork's neck a few years back, or the "Ballerina on Crack" look that somebody else showed up in the year after that.

And beaucoups HUZZAHHS to Jennifer Hudson, a girl who obviously enjoys a good meal now and then and isn't ashamed of it thankyewverymuch, who looked DROP-DEAD GORGEOUS in her lovely size 12 Oscar de la Renta, "Golden Globe Winning, Best Supporting Actress So Go Totally Fuck Yourselves American Idol and especially you, Simon Cowell, You Rat Fink Bastard" gown!

Ellen (Degeneres) was suitably cute and uncontroversial for the evening. The closest she came was some mild crack about how there would be "no movies" without the contributions of blacks, Jews and homosexuals. But I guess that was okay. After all, this wasn't the Golden Globe Awards, this was, ahem, the Oscars, Hollywoods Most Self-Important and Totally Taking Ourselves too Seriously Night of the Year.

I am SOOOOO GLAD that Marty Scorcese FINALLY got his Oscar (don't feel too sorry for George Lucas, who never got one... he got something a helluva lot better, a cash machine in Marin called ILM).

This was one of the few years in the last 10 that I actually "saw" most of what it was that was vying for prizes last night. And not just the "big productions", either. I saw "Pan's Labyrinth" and "Volver" (don't ever miss an Almodovar film, they are simply divine). I saw "Babel", "The Queen", "Little Miss Sunshine", "The Departed" and "Letters from Iwo Jima." Not one of them was a real "toe-tapper" (as opposed to "Dream Girls", which was,), as they say. But they were all good films, and full of good work by all the crafts involved, from writing to cinematography, to acting.

I love the movies. I've been fascinated by them ever since I was a kid. I used to drool over deMille epics. The longer, the better. I would've sat through "Ben-Hur" twice if I hadn't had to have been home for dinner.

But the movie that made me a real movie lover was, as someone else mentioned last night, "Lawrence of Arabia." I saw it in a movie theater on the boardwalk in Wildwood, New Jersey, in August of 1962. I had just turned 14. As I sat in that air-conditioned theater, far from the broiling heat of the beach outside, I relished every single frame of that beautiful motion picture. I have never forgotten that experience.

If I had anything to "do over" in my life, it would be that I would've pursued a career in motion pictures. I hate the phoniness of the business, the deal-making and ass-kissing and plastic surgery and closeted lives of "married for public consumption" stars. I hate all that, yet I would put up with it, if I could make movies. In some capacity or another. But, alas, that wasn't meant to be.

In which case, I can at least strive to be the best movie fan I can be. So that's what I'm doing.

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