Sunday, February 24, 2008

Rage at the Oscars

Okay, as always, the Oscars are a source of irritation. I offer a free pass to the production values (I get that live tv is difficult) and the girls at do a better job than I ever will at deconstructing the heinous garments worn by the Hollywood fem-bots. After that, it's all me!

First of all, can we get some kind of wrangler to move all the short, fat, bald men out of the way so that the public is not disgusted... I mean, distracted during the red carpet interviews. I don't know about you, but I want to yell "MOVE" at my screen every time some lame studio exec with hair plugs stands behind Harrison Ford and chats on his cell phone - it's so OBVIOUS he's on the phone with his peeps making sure he's actually in the shot. Here's a tip - if you're going to use your phone at the Oscars, dial Jenny Craig.


I get that everybody hates that the Oscars are three months long, but please - did you see how they wouldn't let that sweet (Irish?) girl speak after she won best original song? COME ON! Oops, they just brought her back after the commercial break. I have the power!

And could anyone else have done without three songs from "Ever After", or "Princess in New York", or whatever the hell that movie was called. Big hint - if you're singing a song about cleaning up an apartment with the help of a bunch of rats (and you're, in fact, alone on stage in a ball gown) the people are going to be confused. I mean, at least run the scene on the huge jumbo-tron behind Ms. Adams. Or do away with the musical numbers altogether - I'm still scarred by the slow-mo montage of the car fire from that Paul Haggis piece of crap.

Joey B was loving up Helen Mirren (he practically did a back-flip when she came out on stage to present Best Actor). He kept saying how regal she is. I pointed out that she has a tattoo on her wrist. Nothing more was said on the subject.

All in all, I think the awards went really well - Jon Stewart was much more comfortable this time around and did a great job. Still, I think the glamor (and craziness - remember soy bomb?) of the Academy Awards is gone for good. Now if we could only get rid of the attention hog trolls in their three piece suits. I'm offering my services - I hear Amy Adams knows some rats who work on the cheap. Call me.