"Spotlight" on the White Oscars

Hello darlings. I know I haven't posted in a while. Did you think I was dead? Well, I was briefly, but it was strictly for tax reasons. When you're 118, you tire easily. Anyway, Little Dougie got me to sit through the Oscars, and I had few quick responses. Not a whole review, but a few observations. 

I thought Chris Rock did a terrific job. It was certainly lucky for him that no black people were nominated, as otherwise, he'd have had to talk about these movies. If Hattie McDaniel had been nominated again, he's have had to scrub his entire act.  

"It's this big."

Nice to see Andy Serkis in the Oscar show. Was he really there, or was he in New Zealand in a motion capture suit? And am I crazy to find Andy Serkis a bit sexy? 

Where do you wear your Precious, Gollum?

I know what motions I'd want to capture.

If you are accepting an award for Costume Design and you show up dressed like a member of a Lesbian biker gang, they should take back the award

You do know it's a formal event, right, Jenny?

Given how far away from the stage the Production Designers were seated, they really should have been provided with a tram to the stage. I was able to go the kitchen, mix a martini, and return to the living room in the time it took the winners to get to the stage. Their speech was was shorter than their travel time. The band could have been playing them off before they got on.

So the guy with the horrible hair who performed the song from 50 Shades of Gay is just called "The Weekend"? What is he, a Time Lord? He sang well enough (Is that a crazy vibrato waver or was he just nervous?) but it would have been more respectful if Cirque Du Soliel hadn't been upstaging him. Couldn't they have gone on after he finished? Suddenly I felt like I was Maggie Smith on Downton Abbey: What is a Weekend?

Suddenly I'm glad it's Monday.

In just exactly what way did Damian Martin's one-week old baby daughter contribute to her dad's winning an Oscar for a movie completed before she was born, or probably even conceived?

New Rule: No thanking anyone who was not yet alive when you did the work that won you the award. Leave it on the bottom-of-the-screen thank-you-crawl that no one on earth is reading.

They only performed some but not all of the Song nominees? Well, way to let two of them know they don't rate.

That's the second consecutive Best Song win for a Bond movie. And of course, I loved Sam Smith's speech! You go, girl! 

They're asking "Does it vibrate?"

The appearance by C3PO, R2D2 and BB8 was cute and all (How the hell does BB8 work?), but since they presented nothing, what did it add to the show besides a gratuitous two more minutes to an already too long show?

How about an Oscar for Best Awards Show Editing, for whomever can get the show down even to it's supposed 3-hour running time, let alone down to a more reasonable 2?

Dear Jared Leto, there is no such movie as "Magic Mike II." It is Magic Mike XXL. I may have inadvertently seen it a few dozen times, and have done my best to try and have it nominated for Best Picture. It may still be on my DVR right this moment. But your pretending you didn't know this was cute, though it fooled no one.

THIS is entertainment!

Jarad, while I have your attention, I'm glad you're so proud of your new dictionary, but I already knew what a merkin is: He's the villian in my book Tallyho, Tallulah!, actually named "Harry Merkin." You can read all about him, his wife, Minge Merkin, and their daughter, Fanny Merkin, just by clicking on the book's title.

So Matt Damon's beard in The Martian was CGI? Can't Matty grow a beard? I'm almost certain he's gone through puberty. Or is his only beard Mrs. Damon? (They've never heard of crepe hair and spirit gum, which I'm certain is cheaper than CGI?)

Poor Matt, trapped on a planet without me, 
doing a remake of Robinson Crusoe on Mars.

Academy, do you really want to play off the Iranian woman as she's saying how her short documentary has actually gotten laws changed and genuinely made progress in ending an ongoing atrocity? Her film has actually done something more important than make a few studio executives able to buy themselves third homes in Mazatlan. All by itself, it's done more good than Mad Max: Fury Road and The Revenent ever will or can accomplish. Unlike most of these movies, A Girl in the River is genuinely important. Stop playing her off. Play off actresses thanking their kindergarten teachers and their craft services people. Play off anyone thanking "God," but leave her alone.

Well, Alejandro Iñárritu outlasted the band. For once, the winner played off the orchestra.

Couldn't "Joy" put the baby down before screaming at the guy on her sofa? I was distracted by being worried for the baby "actor," who only knows that a loud mad woman is screaming angrily in its ear. The kid's distress wasn't "Acting"; it was real. You can't explain to a baby "It's only a movie."

I was amused when they cut directly from Mark Ruffalo to a shot of the guy he plays in Spotlight. "Yes, you can trust the veracity of our docudrama. We only made the lead character 400% more gorgeous than he really is, not 1000%."

Hollywood would cast Henry Cavill without make-up as Quasimodo. 

Why did the band play off Brie Larson with "Goldfinger"? I could see doing that for Sam Smith, but what did it have to do with Brie Larson? Was the room she and the kid were imprisoned in made of gold?

"Gender CONFIRMATION Surgery"? And Political Correctness creates another bizarre euphemism. I still haven't processed "Handi-capable" (Maybe it should be "Happy-capped"), and now "Gender Confirmation Surgery."

During Leo's speech, was the audience clapping for Global Warming?

Well I was shocked and delighted when Mark Rylance won. My suddenly shouting "Yes! Yes!" startled Little Dougie's cat Barrymore. And even after Sylvester Stallone, the odds-on favorite, had gotten himself freshly Collagened and Botoxed for the occasion. (Compared to his face in the movie, in the audience his skin looked freshly ironed.)

Little Dougie's cat Barrymore, who outweighs me. Here he's recovered 
from the shock I gave him, or else he's drunk. (He is a Barrymore, after all.)

Watching the clip, I could hear why hot little Tom Hardy lost. I couldn't understand a word he said. He sounded more marble-mouthed than Stallone.

Well, Best Picture was a pleasant surprise. After Best Director and Best Actor, I was expecting the bear rape movie to win, or barring that, given it's earlier sweep, It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad Max: Furry Road. But the "Let's Take Down the Catholic Church" movie won. I'll bet they're seething in the Vatican. Good. I liked that.

You can't say the Oscars had no surprises this year, except one: It was actually mostly entertaining for once. And best of all, I was still absent from the In Memorium montage, which means I'm still alive, just like that sex god Abe Vigoda. What a relief! Now excuse me while I drink myself into a coma. Cheers, darlings

Lube it first, darling, please. I'm old.