Oscar Recap, 2010 (Late! I Know!)

I was sure this would be the most boring broadcast ever, but BOY was I wrong. First, the positives:

NO BEST SONG PERFORMANCES. I know, I am evil, but this year you have to agree with me. I hate it every year. It's called "bathroom break," "popcorn break," "writin' mah novel break." No one cares, die die die. Randy Newman, if we just give you a lifetime award for upliftedness, can we be spared forever from this urge to perform?

Gabourey Sidibe. I love her. Not because she's so "real" (translation: I won't go there, but then I don't have to, do I? DO I?) but because she really, really is. If you watched it, you saw how she reacted to Oprah's eulogy (srsly? WTF? those totes were eulogies, yo), and you know she actually IS real. Suddenly the acid burn flash of loss doesn't seem so bad when you know how much it means to ANYONE to be honored by Ms. Oprah herself. I would cry my freaking head off. My head would just fall right off. And roll and roll, still spouting tears. It's called perspective y'all. And I do believe Miss Gabourey Sidibe has it.

And, because we have to say it, I LOVED that Sandra Bullock won. It was a real surprise to me, even if everyone said she was the favorite to win (really? really?). As my girl said, she deserved to win since Hope Floats (soft place movie extraordinaire!!), though by personal favorite has always been Practical Magic. Because Sandra is nothing but MAGICAL...and let's be truthful, friends: Real. As yet, she's never adopted a fake accent of imperiousness and has not once ever seemed too aware of her face muscles when talking to whatever journalist has her cornered to talk about Miss Congeniality, etc. I don't necessarily agree with the decision (it is possible to be both happy and disagree) but I'm glad she got it nonetheless. Meryl will be up for another award next year (or the next, don't doubt it) so I'm not too bent out of shape about the outcome.

The Cove! This was the one award that earned both yelling and clapping in my household (whilst happy about Mo'Nique, I was ultimately disappointed in the speech). I even loved that Ric O'Barry lifted the sign and got the speech cut short. Having just watched the movie, I understood one truth: He was going to do that, and there was no stopping it, ever. The man is dedicated. You learn that in the film. And, once you see it, you know why. To simplify the message for those of you who see it as one more pornographic portrayal of animal endangerment: IT IS NOT. Learn: dolphin slaughter is not necessary. Dolphin meat is CRAP: it is complete garbage, full of mercury, and no one really wants or needs to eat it. The real money is in catching show whales, the animals that keep places like Sea World afloat. Those that don't get picked get corralled into a tiny cove to be killed for their meat; meat that should NOT be eaten because it is essentially poison. Got it? Also, in terms of the Oscar win, this must be said: The film is fantastic. Great filmmaking, worthy of watching no matter what your politics.

THIS. I never saw the movie. But this makeup and Ben Stiller's monkey body work together like peaches and cream. Don't deny.

Now, the negatives:

WEIRD LINEUPS. As seen in the John Hughes tribute, best actor, best actress, etc. I think the Oscars needed their own Best Sound Mixer because what we saw was a sweeping shot of silence at each of these intervals. It was physically uncomfortable to watch these moments, waiting until at least one of these aholes started to talk. They weren't all properly primed for the task (Michelle, I hope you heal) but those who were did a great job; it was just that awkward first sweep that made me cringe each time. Thanks, Oscar producers, for heightening that sense of ridiculous haughtiness. God knows these Hollywood types never get enough ego stroking.

THIS ASSHOLE. Even before knowing the story, I hated her. What a bitch. There, I said it. I don't care if she's old, rich, or senile. EFF her. I can't wait to get old so I can act like an asshole 24/7 and blame everything on being a senior. Just to be clear, she disassociated herself from the project a year ago. Hag.

HONORING FOREIGN FILMS. Not that they shouldn't be honored. They should. What annoyed me this time (and, retroactively, every time, I guess) is how they announce it. For everything else they announce something like: "Bob Jones, nominated X times, won X times..." But for the foreign films it is suddenly the Olympics: "Bolivia has been nominated 5 times, won once, yadda yadda." Seriously? Oscars? It is jarring and stupid. Stop it.

JEFF BRIDGES. Can I tell the truth now? Is it allowed? Look. I liked him in Starman and as "The Dude." I think he should have gotten the Oscar for "The Dude." BUT, whatever. Can we now, without pause, finally declare that this guy is really, really, really, WEIRD? He weirds me out big time. His speech only made that more sincere. When someone kidnaps me, paints me yellow, buries me in mud and does the hokey pokey over it, just know: It's Jeff Bridges.

(PS. He totally kilt Sandy in that way. He will do it again, I tells ya.)

THIS.

More than anything. Here is Bigelow triumphant.


Look at her beautiful face, dress, posture. She is the embodiment of feminine glory.


And here she is as the hungry hoards hoped: getting strangled by her ex. This is a COPS world, my friends. You are just passing through.

I have to rant for a minute. First, I must be honest and say that I do not consider myself a "feminist"; certainly not in a militant or otherwise political way. Perhaps being raised by a single mother never allowed me a true understanding of female repression. When I see it, I find it comical. I think those chaps must certainly be joking. Because, um, this is 20 fucking 10, gents. Are you seriously trying to "little lady" anyone anymore? Really? Hilarious.

SO.

When I saw the screenwriter clutching at Ms. Bigelow I had a strange reaction. My first thought, not really a thought at all, was: RAGE. I tried to understand my feelings. My first thought was of Harris's The Red Dragon: In it, he describes how blind people hate being grabbed by the upper arm when they need assistance. FYI: They would prefer to grab your arm. More so, I could not help thinking of the significance that they attributed to this moment: A Woman Wins a Man's Award. I guess I put the two together and BLAM, rage. I wanted to pull his balls through the screen, squeeze them, and push them back down into his gullet.

Somehow, I'm not a militant feminist, but can I just declare, for all time: Do NOT grab a woman by the arm (no matter WHAT you are trying to do, i.e. make sure she gets kudos for directing the best picture when you are accepting for the Best Picture award) and pull at her like you own her, dude. JUST. DON'T. DO. IT. Because your balls and my fist will have a date with destiny. M'kay?