Spitball Army

I enjoy watching the Academy Awards telecast each year.  Sue me.  Apparently, a lot of other people do, as well.  The odds game is fun and, since I don’t often gamble, a bit of a thrill.  I entered several Oscar voting contests this year, with my best total score being 15 correct out of 24 nomination categories.  The Oscars: it’s like a three-hour live version of Entertainment Weekly magazine.

• The set looked like a more intimate, old-Hollywood event.  I nearly expected to see dinner being served at round tables peppered around the lip of the stage, with the winners grabbing napkins from their laps and blotting their faces before dashing to the front of the room.  The crystal curtains added to this ambience.
• It was a rare thing to experience watching Hugh Jackman singing the word “excrement” into Kate Winslet’s face.  He was on his knee before her, about two inches from her face.  That was quite a surreal moment.
• I fumbled and lost both of the screenplay categories by voting thoughtfully.  Benjamin Button seemed the most adept adaptation by turning a short contemplative piece of fiction into what amounted to a cinematic epic.  Though not the best cinematic epic I’ve ever seen, the transformative process seemed to me to be the most artful.  [Note to self: remember that “Oscars” does not necessarily translate into “artful.”]  In the original screenplay category, Milk won the award, but was the furthest thing from original, as it was basically a creative nonfiction version of the 1984 film The Times of Harvey Milk.  The end credits of the film even acknowledge the filmmakers’ debt to this Academy Award-winning documentary.  The most original screenplay in my opinion was In Bruges, a completely unexpected blend of wit and terror with sympathetically-drawn characters and some of the best dialogue of any film I saw last year.
• This year’s twist of having the acting award nominees presented by five past winners in that category was a great creative touch.  Even if some of the presenters seemed to be struggling with their simple duties (Alan Arkin and Sophia Loren, for example), most of the actors stepped up to the plate admirably, and their brief speeches were little tributes to the talents of the nominees, delivered directly to them, instead of to the cameras.  I did miss seeing clips of the acting scenes, however.  Could we have both next year, please?
• Why are there only three Best Song nominees this year?  Where is Bruce Springsteen’s song for The Wrestler?  Out of the three nominees, only one (“Down to Earth,” from Wall-E) seemed a song in the traditional sense.  The other two nominees, from Slumdog Millionaire, sounded like pieces of the overall score of the film, strong on rhythm and beat and weak on melody.
• Thank God that Kate Winslet prepared a speech!