I can take the Academy Awards or leave them. I usually leave them. Inexplicably, I appear to have watched the whole thing last night, from the meager beginning award (placement of microphones in a foreign documentary under eight minutes) to the bitter end (best picture). I guess I was simultaneously reading the Sunday paper, and I was on the phone for a while, but I'm pretty sure I watched it from beginning to end with at least some attention. And it was not all that entertaining, although it struck me that the quality of the ads rivaled those of this year's Super Bowl.
I'm not a follower of those who glitter in Hollywood. Out of the five or so pictures up for best flick, I had seen one (Juno). The only other award winner that we had caught - and just last week on DVD - was Ratatouille, which is an above average animation, in my not well informed opinion.
I only recall one highlight from the whole seventeen hour production. Or maybe it went 27 hours. It was when the unknown (to me, which is not too amazing) man and woman who had sung that low key song from the movie about the man and woman writing the low key song in question, were getting their award (for their low key song) and the guy said some nice things about the rise of independent artist, then the orchestra, which was very aggressive this year, cut in and did not let the poor low key young woman say anything, then there were some advertisements, then Jon Stewart, righting the wrong, let the young woman come back out and say a few words, and she said some nice things about hope and dreams, and she got a really nice round of applause. I liked that. It was almost a little movie in itself, about how these unknown (again, to me) people who can't even afford a guitar that doesn't look like it ought to be condemned and demolished, could rise to the heights of Hollywood ballyhoo. I'm proud of them, and happy for all of us, as the take-away is that we can achieve the dream if they can. Although they do have the advantage that they are pretty talented writers and performers.
After that, not much to talk about, although that woman from Michael Clayton seemed somewhat interesting and not yet a part of the jaded Hollywood crowd. Good for her. And then I always like seeing Helen Mirren. I'm a big fan; those mysteries on PBS (BBC) where she was a chief of detectives were the best, and I did catch her convincing Queen Elizabeth turn. And the exposition of the skinnier Coen Brother (First time up: "Thanks". Second time up: "I really don't have anything to add". Brilliant and concise.)
It got me thinking about awards and how these actors and even the key grips and gaffers are quite blessed in that America - nay, the world - cheers with them when they get awards. I do some city planning in the course of my employment and last year I took part in a plan that won an award, and I can tell you that I did not feel America, or in this venue, my home state, cheering - mainly it was a room of fellow planners, politely applauding and probably plotting their run at the award next time. Don't get me wrong; it was great. But I would never expect anyone outside the profession to work up much interest in the award.
And I am sure that, in Sheraton Hotel ballrooms across America, plumbers applaud plumbers of the year, librarians quietly pat librarians of the year on the back, and Subway franchise owners probably gather in a room to honor the franchisee of the year before digging into their chicken...subs.... And that's great and it feels good and is a decent career highlight for anyone.
But even though last night was the least-watched Academy Awards show in recent history, nevertheless, approximately forty-seven billion life forms from several galaxies were watching and rooting these larger-than-life stars on to victory. It's interesting, how much stock we put in these people. How we thrill for the victor, and at the same time, watch the four losers in their little pictures within the picture, making sure they are gracious enough to applaud the winner and not pout.
It is said that this year's slate of victors is pretty much bereft of glamorous big-time star power, and that's why the ratings were low (people saw it coming, I guess). For me, I'm all for the triumph of the little guy (and gal) so I'm tickled when some hitherto unknown writer with even a shady past gets up there to grab her Oscar and asks, dumbfounded, "What just happened?" That's what it should be all about - another one of us regular folk, the ones the candidates are all stumping hard for right now, ascends the steps, accepts the statuette, and enters the ledger book of Hollywood history. Hooray.
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