You know, it’s times like this that I wonder if I should’ve devoted Nobody Puts Baby in a Horner to something like cat farts as opposed to pop culture because it’s hard to over think three hours of cat farts; real talk: blogs about cat farts write themselves. Blogs that try to recap rather paint-by-numbers Oscar ceremonies? Not so much.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like last night’s Academy Awards ceremony was an interminable bore. After all, the woman whom shall henceforth forever be known on the interwebz as “Lady Kanye” has us all talking about the Best Documentary Short win, which is a real coup for a category of movies I know to exist only because they continue to get awards every year; otherwise, I remain vaguely convinced documentary shorts are like the Sasquatch of cinema, but I digress.
My point is that the Oscars were totally fine in the way that a largely predictable three-and-a-half hour Hollywood circle jerk is totally fine, but Oscar party margaritas have a tendency to make most anything better, so if it was worse than just watching a bunch of people win the same awards we’ve been seeing them win all awards season, I honestly wasn’t paying attention. Anywho, this ping-pong-ball-sized kidney stone of a blog post ain’t gonna pass itself, so let’s take one last look back and throw out some patently irresponsible kudos and sassy finger snaps to a few of the more mentionable moments:
First off, kudos are certainly in order for Mo’nique. I’ve heard her performance is excellent, and I might even one day be able to personally attest to that, but even those few moments they showed during the Oscars were enough to thoroughly disturb me, and I really don’t need any more fodder for my nightmares. Particularly when the Oscars were already getting ad revenue from the ultimate nightmare fuel:
Seriously, every time I see a Svedka ad, I remember why I prefer gin, but–yet again–I digress.
A kudos as well to Christoph Waltz for being so all-around terribly charming:
And a lusty kudos as well because said charm (and beard) were giving me me the worst case of Ralph-Fiennes-in-Schindler’s-List guilt since Ralph Fiennes in Schindler’s List. Honestly, Hollywood needs to start a new Uglies-Only policy when casting Nazi roles.
I don’t know what the hell was going on in Samuel L. Jackson’s head when he decided this was a good idea:
But a sassy finger snap for being willing to ride that crazy train to its totally GIFable conclusion.
Sassy finger snaps also to the Academy for actually acknowledging the importance of the horror genre with a montage, but then redact it in part with a pursed lips disapproval over this inclusion:
I will give that montage Jennifer Ansiton in Leprechaun because it’s important for us to all remember the shames of our past, but New Moon deserved its spot in the horror montage as much as A Beautiful Mind deserved its Best Picture nomination back in 2001, so only on days that end with a Q.
And of course, we have to talk about Sandra Bullock:
Given how she’s not auditioning for the role of Sister Ruth in a remake of Black Narcissus, I thought the lipstick was a little much; otherwise, though, she was looking simply gorgeous. And don’t even get me started about her acceptance speech:
That acceptance speech was easily my favorite of the evening, so snaps all around for that. She was at turns self-deprecating, humble, and as totally surprised at her win as I was not. Also, she sucker punched my fake ovaries by talking about moms AND the ‘mos, at which point I cried in front of a roomful of fellow Oscar partiers, and that is the sort of shame you’re not soon to live down. Kinda like starring in Leprechaun.
But the highlight of the evening was The Hurt Locker besting James Cameron’s nigh unstoppable Avatar in the Best Picture category, so three sassy finger snaps to the interwebz for having some sort of GIF Oscar sixth sense:
But more importantly, straight-up Nobody Puts Baby in a Horner congratulations are in store for Kathryn Bigelow:
The Hurt Locker is as impeccably directed of an action film as I can recall seeing in quite some time, and I cannot express how incredible it is to have a female director finally win Best Director, but there’s something particularly pleasing about seeing it go to a one who has worked almost exclusively in genre filmmaking that’s so traditionally dominated by men. It’s one thing for the Oscars to FINALLY recognize women as an equal talent behind the camera, but Kathryn Bigelow’s win is more than that: it reframes popular expectations of what sort of movies women are making and making well. There wasn’t a more meaningful moment all evening, so a final snaps to the Academy for getting it so very right.
Now let’s go talk about some cat farts, shall we?