On Saturday night Jobert invited me to a très chic dinner party at the Swan Hotel in Lambertville. I was unable to attend, (muling duties!) but Jobert kindly dropped off my Oscar at the restaurant. On Sunday night, just as I had opened the Bollinger – I don’t drink in solitary, the Pomeranians are with me – Comcast went on the fritz. By the time I had the problem sorted the lead-up to the borefest was well underway.
How we miss Joanie.
No-one did awkward celebrity interviews (Who-are-you-wearing?) like Joan Rivers.
“E! Live From the Red Carpet with Ryan Seacrest and Giuliana Rancic” was as relentlessly banal as always.
Giuliana, a professional anorexic, looks as though she could get a job as a swizzle-stick in a cocktail lounge. This year the swizzle-stick has spent too much time at the tanning booth.
ABC had exclusive red carpet rights at 7.30.
“Oscars Opening Ceremony: Live from the Red Carpet”, they trumpeted.
Robin Roberts, Michael Strahan and Lara Spencer of “Good Morning America” “interviewed” all the celebs passing by until the start of the show. Live is hyperbolic. These days stars don’t bother to think up witty one-liners. Come to think of it they don’t bother to enunciate either. (When I saw the heartbreaking drama, Moonlight the experience would have been infinitely enhanced had there been sub-titles. I didn’t learn Ebonics at school.)
By the time I got the telly working, Dev Patel was chuntering on about “the nourishing journey” that making a movie is. ‘Nourishing journey”? Made him sound like he’d been at a health hydro.
“Its all about the fashion!” shrieked Robin Roberts. Robin, despite industrial-strength Spanx, still looked like a steatopygic whale in high heels.
Isabelle Huppert wearing what looked like a house coat swanned into view.
Robin pounced. “Isabelle Huppair wearing beaded Armani! So chic. This is a classy lady who can also be edgy.”
Isabelle looked thoroughly pissed off. But then the French traditionally find American award ceremonies distasteful, don’t they?
Her plum-colored lipstick make her look like a spiteful Joan Crawford.
“Chrissy Tiegen!” yelled Robin as aforementioned hove into view. “Don’t you love the cape in the back? John Legend is her arm candy!”
Faye Dunaway was briefly spotted outside carrying a shopping bag. Maybe the bag contained envelope that was to be her Undoing.
All the men seemed to be wearing stovepipes and had triangular ears and those haircuts that look like landing strips for flies. It was a convention of Pee Wee Herman lookalikes.
Trudy Styler and Sting (I can’t look at them without thinking ‘tantric sex!’) simpered as someone walked past looking as though they were dressed in lagenlook (sic) bin liners.
Clearly Garcinia Cambogia, the new weight loss craze, isn’t working for everyone.
Charlize Tron (sic) was given two minutes of silence for her ear-lobes. She wore Chopard diamond earrings that probably cost more than several houses in Benoni. Or Boksburg. I can never remember where she is from.
Of course there were some “blapses” as the Fashion Police called them.
The beautiful Halle Berry chose to wear what looked like a giant Brillo pad on her head. Priyanka Chopra sported a plastic airline tray on her front. Octavia Spencer’s gown will no doubt be repurposed as several dozen giant lilac feather dusters…
Of course Jennifer Aniston was there getting choked up about the death of Bill Paxton. Is there any part of Jennifer’s being that she hasn’t franchised? She has itchy eyes (not many of her friends knew this), dry skin (Aveeno), perfect hair….etc etc. All this for a moderately attractive girl-next-door.
Of course the Oscars is all about brown-nosing and kissing up.
‘You’re making me feel good,’ said Ryan Gosling simpering insincerely to Robin.
“I would be happy to be your arm candy!’ Robin simpered insincerely to Ryan.
Emma Stone in Givenchy haute couture resembled a lampshade from the forties.
‘The shoes were too chunky! The shoes were waaaaay too chunky!’ adjudicated the Fashion Police.
As for Scarlett Johansson. She looked matronly! (More from the Fashion Police.)
Then there was Blanca. The actress lead the fashion pack at the Academy Awards. Actress Blanca is known for her roles in Teen Star Academy, Bullet and Bermuda Tentacles.
The actress appeared to take inspiration from the highly-coveted golden statue as she hit the red carpet in a striking gold dress which ensured she stood out from the crowd of A-listers – mainly because her pudenda was clearly on view. Obviously unable to afford knickers.
Damien Chazelle, who is about 12 (OK, thirty-two) who directed La La Land, looked as though he should be hanging from a keyring. He kept his hands in his pockets the entire night.
Are Hollywood men shrinking? Most are so small they could bust a lip on the curb. Nicole Kidman’s husband is so small I thought she had shown up with her son. She, as always, was impeccable.
The speechifying, as always, provided some entertainment. Why the Quran was even quoted at the Oscars:
To save one life is to save all of mankind. (verse 5:32)
This utterance prompted euphoria amongst the liberals. They gave it a standing ovation.
It was as if a turban-wearing Messiah galloped down on a white horse and bestowed the light of God straight into the awestruck eyes of a supposedly secular, white progressive audience.
This line is a good one. But one line doesn’t justify or preclude the more violent verses sanctioning institutionalized misogyny.
Still, the Twittersphere went postal (in a manner of speaking.)
“A verse from the Quran being read out at the#Oscars. Most woke telecast ever?”
Viola Davis won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her performance in Fences.
She gave a speech that had the media gushing. The Washington Post called it “amazing.” Huffington Post said it stole the show. I fell off the couch laughing.
It prompted tweets like these:
Viola Davis’ acceptance speech for Best Supporting Actress deserves an Oscar itself #oscars
Thank you Academy. You know, there’s one place that all the people with the greatest potential are gathered. One place. And that’s the graveyard. People ask me all the time: ‘What kind of stories do you want to tell Viola?’ And I say exhume those bodies. Exhume those stories. The stories of the people who dreamed big, and never saw those dreams to fruition. People who fell in love and lost. I became an artist and thank God I did because we are the only profession that celebrates what it means to live a life.
The utter arrogance of stating that actors and artists are “the only profession that celebrates what it means to live a life” is, well, utter nonsense.
How about doctors? How about stay-at-home mothers, who help shape lives rather than pursuing their own career interests? How about morticians? How about pretty much everybody in a free market economy, giving of themselves to others to improve lives?
One of the most amusing aspects of the Oscars is the tremendous self-centredness of the event: People who are rich and famous congratulating other people who are rich and famous on how important they are is always good for a laugh.
Jimmy Kimmel’s constant stream of jokes about Donald Trump underscored that Hollywood sees itself as morally superior. Virtue Signalling on steroids.
Hollywood awards itself virtue simply on the basis of its views of the universe.
There were other little oopses too.
Someone’s dress got caught on a wheelchair on the stage….a photograph of a still-living person was projected in the obit section…
The truth is that no-one cares about the Oscars all that much these days. There are no real stars.
God knows I have a humdrum life. But even my life is too short to watch the Oscars.