first thoughts on the oscars …
much more political than i expected. in a good way. no saccharine patriotism. generally i admired the way people addressed the issue from the podium (with the exception of nicole kidman. poor nicole, honey, just stick it to tom and sit down. altho the thing about russel crowe telling her not to cry was funny). michael moore went a little overboard. i may be wrong but it seemed like that woman was up there for winning too? you know, that woman who just stood there smiling while he yelled fuck you at the president instead of letting her speak?
jack nicholson looked like strom thurmond. what was up with that? his jaw hung open until three-quarters of the way through, when he remembered to close it, or daniel day-lewis reached over and shut it for him. i’m so glad adrien brody won instead.
really though the awards for the pianist should have stopped there. adapted screenplay, over adaptation? come on. half the film was just bombs dropping. it’s a visual experience. it’s moving, it’s gripping. but adaptation is where it’s at, word-wise.
nicole kidman didn’t thank virginia woolf or michael cunningham. at least we got to see that hot guy from y tu mama tambien, and at least steve martin was funny. except his “gee, these women are hot!” thing — that got old pretty quick. meryl should have won but i’m glad chicago did. gangs was shut out. it’s a sign. come on, swarthmore, give me the grant, and i’ll make a movie that’ll blow scorcese out of the water.