.comment-link {margin-left:.6em;}

Sunday, March 05, 2006


The Day of Oscar

Adult cynicism (or just plain knowledge) has knocked a lot of things off their pedestals - but not the Oscars. I am still like a teenage girl when they come on. The day they air, I wake up excited, and feel compelled to plan some sort of festive viewing arrangement; this year, it's a bottle of champagne, some of my coziest clothes, and spaghetti and meatballs a la husband. I'm logged in to the live discussion on washingtonpost.com. I'm Tivo'ing the red carpet pre-show for a good 40 minutes before I start watching, so I can skip all commercials with confidence through the entire evening. I haven't even seen most of the nominated movies - but of course that's not the point. It used to be - I was crushed when Tommy Lee Jones (Fugitive) beat out Ralph Fiennes (Schindler's List). Now I know it's not about art, so my expectations are adjusted accordingly; I just love the spectacle. The glitz. And yes, I imagine myself on that red carpet, looking glamorous, feeling unstoppable. It's nice to have a little fantasy once in a while.

I used to take perverse pride in having seen all of the nominated films... but this year was the first year since 1986 (!!!!) that I hadn't seen ANY of them in the theater. I do want to see Capote & Crash, but never got around to going. Does it count if I saw 300 parodies of Brokeback Mountain?

Looking back, 2000 was the last year I saw all of the nominees ahead of time. Here's a good page with all of the nominated films if you want to check your own record.

(It's fun... who remembers that Four Weddings and a Funeral was a Best Picture nominee???)

But this was the first time in a while we actually sat down and watched most of the ceremony. Fun, but not as much fun as it was back in the day. *sigh*

For a laugh, see if you can find some clips of Sarah Silverman hosting the IFC Awards. I liked Jon Stewart, but she was awesome.
Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?