OK, final, final, final thoughts on this year’s Oscars. Except for Thursday’s Go article which is already written
I made 13 picks, I got 11 right. That shows the competition was way, way too predictable. Jeez, I’m doing this from Detroit, it’s not like I’m schmoozing at cocktail parties in Beverly Hills.
Last year I picked “The King’s Speech” to win in September from Toronto; this year I did the same thing with “The Artist.” It’s not that I’ve got such a big brain, it’s that the parameters of what make an Oscar movie are so obvious: Appeal to older white males with some innovation, but not too much (see “Tree of Life”); have a sense of history (something older folks tend to appreciate); technical stuff matters. And reflect the gestalt need of the times — hope these past two. Certain films just fit the profile perfectly.
I liked the show, but mostly for its efficiency. The speeches were short, after the technical awards they kept the famous faces flowing, that Cirque de Soleil number may have had nothing to do with movies but what dancing numbers ever have? The musicians in the balcony, the lack of best song entries (yes, “Man or Muppet” would have been sweet, but did you want to sit through that mambo from “Rio”).
And Billy Crystal, while not on fire, at least kept it rolling. And, despite a list of less-than-inspiring best picture nominees, got eyes to tune in. Crystal is the closest thing this past generation has had to the great hosts of yesteryear — Bob Hope and Johnny Carson. He’s an old-time entertainer who’s not ashamed of what he does. Among all its self-deprecating, cynical post-modern who-am-i? comics, the moderns haven’t been able to come up with a replacement. Somehow Billy Crystal’s to blame for that?
Look, Oscar is probably always going to be irrelevant to the 27-year-old guy who’s glued to his World of Warcraft player, as well as his 25-year-old wife watching Snooki. It’s an old folks home of a show. As such it did pretty well, considering the top prize went to a movie only Hollywood cared about. Yes, it’s fading. So let it fade with some grace.
Finally, let me add: I have no idea what Angie was doing with that leg.
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