Disapproving Like Clooney: The Oscars
History was made during last night’s Oscar Telecast and that was just the murky depths of fail explored by its woefully inept hosts. Alec and Steve were misfiring like a Saturday Night Special, though in a SNS’s defense, those guns usually cause far less carnage.
Of all the clips from Precious showcasing Gabby’s preternatural talent, the only one suitable for airing involved Precious jacking fried chicken? Seriously? Oh someone should be getting fired for that.
Geoffrey Fletcher – the first Black person to win a writing Oscar – had the best speech of the night (in my opinion):
I don’t know what to say. This is for everybody who works on a dream every day. Precious boys and girls everywhere. All the cast and crew, anyone who’s kept believing in me. My two brothers, supported me in every way. My role models, my heroes, Buddy and Todd. My mother, Bettye, angel of my world. My father, Alphonse, who spent so much time with us and taught us everything. I’m sorry I’m drawing a blank right now, but I thank everyone.
emphasis is mine.
As a person who worked on a dream daily, I was moved and inspired. Thank you, Geoffrey Fletcher. Thank you for being understated, truly humbled and a class act all the way. You wanna adapt my novel Bright Neon Love?
Let’s not waste bandwidth talking about the apotheosis of awful perpetrated by So You Think You Can Dance? producers who took ten minutes of my life I’ll be begging for on my deathbed when I’m 982 years old, for a sequence I named So You Think You Can Stink Up The Oscars.
Like adverbs and certain spices, Interpretative dance should be used judiciously.
Once again, The Dude was taking ‘er easy for all us sinners with his smoove and gracious win. And if my livestream hadn’t crapped out, I might have been able to see it.
Mo’Nique was spectacular and if it weren’t for her size and race, I’m sure she’d be considered a “tough broad” in manner of Midler or Babs, rather than “mannish” or “uppity” or “hostile”. How dare she let the work speak for itself.
Speaking of Babs. I tell you what, I knew it was going to be Lee or Kat when Babs strolled onto the stage wearing what appeared to be scraps of various costumes left over from The Main Event. I ain’t mad, though. You can wear a garbage bag when you’ve got James Brolin at home keeping the sheets warm.
Trust me, that’s legwork I wished I could do.
It was incredibly exciting to see K-Big rock the mic two times, though I could have done without the Muzak version of “I Am Woman”.
And Tom, even with a long broadcast, it’s still nice to quickly rattle off the noms before harshing J-Cam’s mellow.