The Oscars 2005 review
Sky
In a nutshell: The Academy Awards, fool.
The 411: Actors spend so much time being somebody else that they have very little clue who they really are. They’d like to find themselves but that can be a risky business – often they discover that there isn’t much of a self to find. That’s why they invented The Oscars – not so much to tell them how great they are, more to reassure them that they still exist.
Being in the business we call show means being both pathologically insecure and an incorrigible show-off. We demand too much from our film-makers and actors. It’s only right that we get together annually to celebrate their stupidity, self-absorption and flailing grasp of politics. Without them our lives would be truly hollow.
It fell to host Chris Rock to keep the thesps in check. Rock breezed through the biggest gig of his life, clocking in at a breathless 3 hours 12 minutes – not working to an hourly rate we presume.
He cut to the absurdity at the heart of the Academy Awards telling the crowd "Next year they’re going to give the Oscars in the parking lot. There will be a drive-through Oscar lane. You get an Oscar and a McFlurry."
Drafted in to attract a younger audience, Rock wasted no time in asking the big, pertinent questions of our age. "Who is Jude Law? Why is he in every movie I have seen in the last four years?"
Sean Penn reaffirmed his status as biggest turd in movie history by responding "Forgive me for my compromised sense of humour, but to answer our host’s question: Jude Law is one of our finest actors".
What do you mean, "our", paleface?
"Jude Law is one of our finest actors"
What do you mean, "our", paleface?….
This comes hot on the heels of his spectacularly misjudged attack on the makers of the glorious Team America. Perhaps the Sean Penn puppet from the film was a little too close to home when it solemnly declared:
"Last year I went to Iraq. Before Team America showed up it was a happy place. They had flowering meadows and rainbow skies and rivers made of chocolate, where the children danced and laughed and played with gumdrop smiles."
It’s a truth Aerial Telly holds to be self-evident that Sean Penn needs a slap in the mouth every moment he draws breath.
"Sean Penn needs a slap in the mouth every moment he draws breath…"
Insincere tokenism I can deal with. Sean Penn actually believes this crap. His po-faced snark was thankfully the closest we came to a Michael Moore moment, though secretly we may have longed for a re-run of Richard Gere’s exhorting the audience to "send a thought" of love, truth and sanity to Deng Xiaoping in Beijing so that he would spontaneously Free Tibet.
Which worked a treat. Apart from the ‘Free Tibet’ bit.
As ever, though, the real winners and losers were chosen on the red carpet. Let’s be honest, nobody cares about what the men are wearing – that turd Robin Williams turning up in a Colin Hunt-from-The-Fast-Show novelty tie; like anybody gives a fuck – so we present, exclusively for you:
Aerial Telly’s Guide to the Oscar Pie
Honey Pie: Kate Winslet, looking engagingly scruffy yet demure in a periwinkle blue number. We rikee velly much the Honey Pie with sour cream. Mmmmmmm….
Pork Pie: Melanie Griffith, showing that all those years of rehab didn’t go to waste. Please, put them away.
“Renee Zellweger…This woman’s been through more weight divisions than Roberto Duran…”
Scary Pie: Renee Zellweger, turning up looking like Cruella de Ville’s bulimic half-sister. This woman’s been through more weight divisions than Roberto Duran. Stop it.
Tweety Pie: Emmy Russom. The bird-like waif looked as if she could at any moment be carried away by the draft from an opening limousine door. For the love of God: eat some chips.
Trailer-Park Pie: Julianne Moore, for her thrift store spangly dress. Aerial Telly questions the wisdom of hiring Patsy Palmer as her personal stylist.
Why-Oh-Pie? Giselle Bundchen, turning up with Leonardo DiCaprio. Do what you have to do to promote your career, kid, but raise your sights a touch. Divine Brown nabbed Hugh Grant and she’s a $5 crack whore.
In summary, it was business as usual. Eastwood wins, Courtney Love is refused admission to all after-show parties, Brit actors come a plucky third and Scorsese goes home empty handed. The more things change…
For now, The frocks can go back to Versace and the tuxedos can once more go back in the box. Until the relentless grind of rejection and paranoia wears down the self-esteem and the horrible need for affirmation spews them back down the red carpet again.
Is 12 months’ time good for you?
The best thing about it: Chris Rock OWNING Sean Penn and pretty much every Oscars host in history.
The worst thing about it: Marty Scorsese throwing himself off the ‘H’ of the Hollywood sign (footage saved for the DVD)
The verdict on The Oscars: "I never let a statue tell me how nice I am…"
Marks out of 10: 7