As Hollywood gets ready to distribute their mini Vince Lombardi trophies in the Super Bowl of film tonight, I can’t help but wonder how tonight’s events will go (for they never go as planned)?
Usually, it is a long and boring affair with a few interesting speeches and some long, drawn out (cue the music to interrupt, please!) concoction of words that always ends up with somebody thanking their kids. My speech upon winning would be concise, eloquent and memorable.
But we watch every year because watching people win (someday me) something is always uplifting. Besides, we want to see the stars and we want our underdogs (I can be an underdog) to have their shot.
I always have a wish list of who should win (me, pick me!), knowing fully well that some categories are bound to upset because the buzz of who will win has pervaded the movie rags (insider term for publications) for weeks (not one magazine has had my name in it…hmmmm).
I love films. I can watch a film over and over again, dissecting it into pieces, analyzing the director’s choices, criticizing the cinematographer’s angles, looking for editing inconsistencies, etc. Yvonne says I have ruined watching and enjoying a movie for her because now she sees the gaffes I love to point out.
And I love it when an actor gives a performance that will stand the test of time and generations. While these ‘movie star’ moments are few and far between in this world of reality television and independent filmmaking we peruse today, for every comedic turn delivered by some SNL alumni, there is a Scarlett O’Hara, a Rocky Balboa (in that first, incredible film before the franchise became ridiculous) and as delivered by Daniel Day Lewis this year: an articulately delicious Lincoln that makes one wish he had shared a meal with our sixteenth president.
Sitting beside me as we watch will be my Melissa and Joan Rivers hybrid, Miss Yvonne Blackwell who will thumbs up and thumbs down the many fashion choices made by the Hollywood lot of performers gracing the stage of the Dolby Theater. She’s been known to throw verbal daggers at the TV (Hideous! Take it off! Make it not be true! channeling a very young Natalie Wood in West Side Story)
Since I am convinced that I suffer from a mood disorder, I would love for everyone from Silver Linings Playbook to take home a statue (simply, by far, the more ‘real’ nominee this year). Of course, that would mean that the excellent Anne Hathaway would not be recognized for her brilliant portrayal of Fantine’s in Les Mis and DDL’s phenomenal Lincoln would go home empty handed – and that would be a travesty of justice in the celluloid world (not more than me failing to score a nomination for something this year).
So with our choices in hand we will watch tonight and hope for the best (a write in campaign putting my name in a winning envelope), prepare for the worst (Another loss for me?) and discuss tomorrow how we barely stayed awake through the proceedings. But mostly we will be entertained as we watch the hopes and dreams of our favorites be dashed (along with mine) in front of millions.
And i am not ashamed to say that is my favorite part of the Academy Awards – If I can’t have an Oscar, then nobody else can have one either.