Live-blog. No particular rhyme or reason here, just what strikes me. Might make sense; might not; don’t care. I write off the top of my head. Or it could all be my old nemesis Jack Daniels talking again.
So here we go.
— Well, not crazy about Jennifer Garner’s black dress. Mourning being married to Ben Affleck, one can only assume.
— Ooh, Anne Hathaway is just a lovely little fawn. I love her red chiffony dress with roses draping across the front. Very Greek goddess.
— Katherine Heigel. Oh. Sweet. Mammy. She is so nervous presenting, but she’s just that much more endearing to me because of it. Also: The gorgeousness, the sheer gorgeousness, of that red dress on her. Look at her teeny tiny waist! And her face, all flush with nerves! Okay, Katherine Heigel. Please exit stage left now so the rest of us schlubs can go on living. Also: call me!
— Amy Adams (Enchanted) is fraykin’ adorable. She has to sing a song from that movie without all her little animated critters to help her. (It’s a song from the beginning, where the movie is animated.) I don’t envy her, because out of that very specific context, it’s a bit … odd, but she’s making it work because she’s unself-consciously committed to the out-of-context moment. Also: I like your nose, Amy Adams, so call me!
— Someone comb Cate Blanchett’s hair! Please, I beg you – someone deliver her crowning baby! I’m momentarily uncomfortable and that simply won’t do!
— Sweeney wins Art Direction. Duh.
— Jennifer Hudson to present Best Supporting Actor. Her swollen bosom is swaddled in yards of white draping, is the nicest way I can say it. Javier Bardem is my guess here. Waaaiting …. oh, does anyone else think he — Javier Bardem, with his normal hair — looks like dead Denny Duquette from Grey’s Anatomy? …. just a thought …. ooh, but Tom Wilkinson was so SO good in Michael Clayton. Waiting ….here we go ….. it’s Javier Bardem. Oh, consarnit! Habla ingles, por favor.
— Jon Stewart offers a translation after the commercial. “I believe he told his mother where the library is.”
— Now an “Oscar Salute to Binoculars and Periscopes.” Hahahahahaha!
— Oh, what? A song from that piece of crap August Rush is nominated for Best Song? Did you know Robin Williams played some weird Redbeard Bono in that movie? He did. True dat. Awful true.
— Owen Wilson presenting. You go, dude! I love your nose! Call me! What? No …. no, not for drugs; coffee, sheesh.
— I am zee Frawnch veener of zee Best Live Action Short Feelm. I do not speak zee Eengleesh, so vut Javier Bardem said ony in Frawnch, hokay? Merci beaucoup. Mwa et mwa, mon amies.
— Best Supporting Actress presented by Alan Arkin. Cate Blanchett, I think? She may be busy backstage having her baby. Although I’m crossing my fingers for her getting her priorities straight and combing her damn hair. Ooh, but wait. Amy Ryan in Gone, Baby, Gone. Damn, she was good. Wait again! Changing my mind. Going with Tilda Swinton, actually. Michael Clayton. HA! She got it! Here she comes! Okay. Uhm, she looks exactly like Alfred E. Newman right now. Seriously. But I’m loving her speech. She’s talking about how her agent is the spitting image of the Oscar statuette. “He has the exact shaped head and it must be said … the buttocks.” Hahaha. Now she’s on about George Clooney getting into his batsuit every morning on set, hanging from the ceiling, etc., he’s laughing. Great speech, Alfred E. Newman!
— Jessica Alba’s breasts are molting.
— James McEvoy from Atonement. I could listen to him talk forever. Maybe he’ll call me and we can arrange this posthaste. You know, I have lots of change in a big glass jar, James McEvoy; you could have that, if you just talk. Well, not the quarters. I need those. The dimes and nickels, though, for sure. And pennies. That’s a good deal, James McEvoy, because pennies before 1982 are heavier than they are now and so if you scuff up the sides, the parking meter reads them as quarters. True dat.
Best Adapted Screenplay … hm … I’m saying There Will Be Blood …. wrongo, Peaches. No Country For Old Men.
— Oh, no. Not the president of the American Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Good. Bathroom break. Cheerio.
— Oh, it’s that whiskey-voiced floosie Miley Cyrus. KA-POW!
— Is there anyone shorter than Kristen Chenoweth? Seriously. She’s a widdle tid. And then that huge singing voice. Oh, she’s singing something from “Enchanted.” Because … why? How? She kicked Amy Adams in the shins backstage and hobbled her?
— Oh, dear. These two people who just won Best Sound Editing – working together, now – cannot come up with a coherent speech. The chick keeps saying, “Oh, I’m blanking” and then the ponytailed dude keeps rescuing her with, “Oh, man, I’m blanking too!” Then they look at each other in horror and you can literally feel the tightening of every butt, everywhere, across the world, even as they speak. It’s a symphony of dreadfulness. You guys rock!
— Wow. Best Actress already. BTW, it’s gonna be Julie Christie, I’ll bet, and I haven’t even seen Away From Her. Just heard everyone rave about it. You know, that movie she’s in about the ‘heimer’s? Can’t quite bring myself to see it. But now … right now … I’m thinking it really could be that chick who played Edith Piaf as a spoiler here. Going with Christie, though. Wow. Spoiler wins. See how my gut wanted to dump Julie Christie like a hot potato just a second ago? Shoulda stuck with that. On the upside for Julie Christie — does she not look scrumptiously beautiful? Day-um.
— Colin Farrell (KA-POW!) introducing a song from Once. Ooh. It’s not substitute singers; it’s the actual people from the actual movie — which you really all must see. Beautiful. Haunting. Okay. I want this song to win. Gossip: These two are – or were – or are – a real life couple. Kind of an age difference here. Not really May-December, but maybe, oh, July-November. He’s 37; she’s 20, pick your own months for it.
— Heeeere’s Jack. You gotta have Jack, dontcha know. The cinematic patriarch of bad boys. A montage of best picture winners here which does nothing but unearth my buried animus for The English Patient. KA-POW!
— Renee Zellweger — with a saucy short haircut and a glittery silver gown — presenting Best Film Editing. Goes to The Bourne Ultimatum.
— Nicole Kidman, all statuesque in black, dripping — quite literally — ropes of diamonds over her ever-swelling pregnancy boobins. You go, girl! Have a country music baby. Much better than a Xenu baby. Oh, she’s presenting an Honorary Oscar to Robert Boyle, who is 98 years old and is sitting at the podium for his speech — which, frankly, is better and more coherent than those two earlier, the composers of the symphony of dreadfulness. See this man, doctors everywhere? He’s a potent argument against DNR, he is. You GO, Father Time!
— Penelope Cruz is here now. Wow. Was she exposed to Jessica Alba backstage? Her bosom is molting too. It’s like some horrible MRSA of molting is going around. These women must be quarantined immediately. I think this is Best Foreign Language Film. Yep. And, look — I dunno who just won. Some foreigner.
— John Travolta. Hairline by Sharpie.
— Okay. Best Song. It’s the song from Once, just as I hoped. Eeeee! Here come our lovers to accept their awards. Oh, his accent. Love him. He just keeps saying “Tanks, tanks, tanks.” You are just precious. Where’s my bag of Werther’s?
— Oh, here’s Cameron Diaz presenting Best “Cinemography,” she says. Sweet Lord. Bring Father Time back out. Please. He speaks better and looks fresher, frankly. There Will Be Blood wins. Eeeee!
— In Memoriam. Always poignant. More so this year. Heath Ledger is shown last. Ugh, still too sad.
— Amy Adams presenting Best Score. There’s just an openness and warmth to her face, a joy to her. I thought the music in There Will Be Blood was weird and wonderful, but it’s not nominated, so why am I talking about it? God only knows why I’m talking about anything at this point. Can Father Time blog the rest of this for me? I am worn to a nub. Oh, Atonement wins here.
— Harrison Ford, Best Original Screenplay. What, none of your famous banter, Harrison Ford? Jeez, what a gyp. Juno wins.
There’s gotta be only two or three left, right? Please God.
— Here’s Helen Mirren presenting Best Actor. Daniel Day-Lewis has to be a shoo-in, doesn’t he? He must. Damn, he was freakin’ amazing. (Oh, but there’s Johnny Depp as Sweeney. ACK! Sentimental attachment there, obviously.) By the way, Helen Mirren looks absolutely smashing. Look at her teeny tiny waist, too! A deep burgundy dress with shimmery lacey silvery sleeves, gorgeous on her. Call me, Queen Elizabeth! Damn. Viggo’s nominated, too. I forgot! Eastern Promises. Oh, he was SO good, scary good. Sorry. I’m all over the map here, remembering how fabulous and rich all these performances were. George Clooney, too. Saw them all except Tommy Lee Jones. But DD-L wins, as predicted. He’s wearing hoop earrings that scream “old church lady,” but I forgive him everything. Now he’s thanking Rebecca Miller — Arthur Miller’s daughter, his wife — and she’s teary and smiling. It’s a sweet moment. Lovely, gracious, short speech. Okay. He just smiles that smile he has and, that’s it, I’m toast — sending him a nice pair of dangly earrings TO-morrow!
— Best Director goes to Joel and Ethan Coen for No Country For Old Men.
— Denzel presenting …. finally …. Best Picture. It goes to No Country For Old Men.
Are we done? I think we’re done!
PHEW. Clocking in — by my watch — at 3 hours, 21 minutes. My nubs are even nubbier.
Congratulations to all the winners!