I’m going to keep this short, since I feel like if I hear or say the word “Oscars” again, I’m going to lose it. It’s fun while it lasts, but if you keep it in mind too long, it’s like having Christmas lights up in March. (Which, yes, plenty of silly Minnesotans are doing.) Or like being angry about Avatar months after its release. I streamed them online, with Ashley and I exchanging snarky comments, especially when Kristen Stewart came onstage. I also kept tabs on the AV Club’s live blog, which was very entertaining.
I haven’t watched the Oscars since like, oh, when Jon Stewart hosted in 2006, and I found this one an overall pleasant experience. Of course, it was poorly paced, often perplexing, and usually unfunny, but that’s the whole point of the ceremony, right? Thus enabling us to make our snarky comments? I laughed during the weird interpretive dance segment that interpreted Up as having a robot in it. I also laughed during Sean Penn’s incoherent mumbles as he approached the stage. These are the kind of absurd moments that make it worthwhile to watch 4+ hours of Hollywood patting itself on the back.
These Oscars also came with the interesting implication that John Hughes is apparently far, far more worth remembering than everyone else who died last year, especially great character actors like Ricardo Montalbán and Henry Gibson, who didn’t get any kind of recognition. Well, whatever. This is what low expectations are for. Besides that, I’ll go on remembering Gibson’s contributions to cinema far more than I will with Hughes, so that’s what counts. Which would I rather watch again: Pretty in Pink, or the Haven Hamilton scenes in Nashville? Listening to him sing “200 Years” during the film’s opening will win out every time. (Even if Pretty in Pink does make Harry Dean Stanton seem paternal.)
Aside from those details, the ceremonies were pretty much entirely without note. As for the awards themselves… well, no real surprises there either. The acting quartet of Waltz, Mo’Nique, Bridges, and Bullock won, just as everyone thought. (And I reassert that Sidibe or Mulligan were infinitely more deserving than Sandra Bollocks.) Mercifully for our collective sanity, Avatar didn’t exactly blaze a path of victory, gathering only a few obligatory technical Oscars, while the big ones (Original Screenplay, Director, Picture) went straight to The Hurt Locker.
Quick disclaimer: The Hurt Locker was not the best movie of the year. I still have to catch up with a lot of real contenders (A Single Man, Moon, Un Prophete), but I’m pretty confident that Up, A Serious Man, and The White Ribbon at least were superior. That said, The Hurt Locker‘s victory sends some nice messages about the failure of shininess alone to secure awards, as well as the viability of female directors – and in making war movies, no less! Ultimately, I suspect that Kathryn Bigelow’s Oscar is as much a symbolic blow for equality and progress as it is representative of her true talent, formidable though it is.
But still, good for Bigelow; she made a damn good movie, and she had her naked gold man coming. If last night had a story of its own, I think, Bigelow could’ve been the action heroine, taking a stand against the megalithic corporation, run by the silent-but-omnipresent James Cameron. For that matter, wasn’t it satisfying when Best Foreign Language Film winner Juan José Campanella took a little jab at Avatar in his acceptance speech? It’s always fun when the Goliath seems so likely to win, even though it sucks, and then gets taken down a notch. Who’s king of the world now, motherfucker?
So that’s my pretty superficial post-Oscars analysis. For the record, I think Up in the Air‘s screenplay was better than that of Precious, and ditto for A Serious Man (or even Basterds) against The Hurt Locker. But, well, that’s how the night had to turn, wasn’t it? At least we were able to see a historic first black screenwriter win. And then Tom Hanks climbed onto the stage, quickly announced that The Hurt Locker had won before any suspense was able to build, and the night was over.
For more Oscar-related reading, you should check out this hilariously moronic misinterpretation of The Hurt Locker by Tom Shillue; this snappy breakdown by the AV Club; and the assuredly ongoing discussion over at The Film Experience, led by the entertaining and Julianne Moore-obsessed Nathaniel Rogers. With that said, we now return to your regularly scheduled blog. Hopefully film and Simpsons analysis will be forthcoming from me, as well as some special new posts by Ashley. If we ever get around to writing them. Hooray for Hollywood!