Monday, March 06, 2006

Oscar Fever. Oh, Wait. That's An Infected Vein.

Sorry about the delay in posting, but I just woke up from falling asleep during the Oscars. Thanks to Jon Stewart and a whole bunch of shitty movies, this year’s telecast managed to be almost narcotic in its boredom, as evidenced by me waking up choking on my own sick and scratching an open sore on the inside of my thigh. Consequently, I’m now hooked on being incredibly bored all the time, going on a daily nod to Radiohead albums and C-SPAN. And every second Thursday, I blow my whole welfare cheque on Lord of the Rings DVDs and spend the rest of the week parked in front of the computer reading people complain about The Phantom Menace on the Ain’t It Cool News forums like I’ve had nothing to do in the last six years but fume over Jar Jar Binks.

He's an Ewok for younger, stupider kids. Get over it.

I’m not sure when exactly it was that I feel asleep. Probably, it was somewhere in between Jon Stewart’s proudly mediocre opening monologue and realizing that the Academy was treating the Oscar statues like loot bags, giving one out to everyone who came to the party. Normally, I’m a big Jon Stewart fan, because I have the smug sense of moral superiority that festers right between graduating from art school and killing myself and three others in a telemarketing office after three years of trying to sell business directories over the phone while desperately applying for grant funding. But I couldn’t take his tame, wiffle-bat swings at conservatives and rehashed Seinfeld stand-up bits. And the acceptance speeches, oh, the acceptance speeches. Clooney, patting Hollywood on the back for being socially progressive? Yeah, for every bigot whose prejudice was erased by Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner, there’s a thousand shit-heads with Marine Corps tattoos who learned cultural sensitivity by watching Stallone kick turbaned ass in Rambo 3. And don’t forget that every third ticket to Passion of the Christ came with a swastika cell-phone charm. Between Philip Seymore Hoffman preening and Robert Altman apparently confessing to eating a woman’s heart, the best speech of the night ended up being a pile of gibberish from the Three 6 Mafia guys.

You should see them when they dress down.

But what was it that really puzzled me to the point of unconsciousness? It was that the best picture of the year apparently didn’t have a good director or cast, or that Brokeback Mountain¸ though exquisitely written and directed, was apparently not a very good movie. It’s not that I have a problem with splitting up the awards; it tends to make things more interesting for those of us who still care about watching Hollywood give itself a hand-job on national television. But it seems like this year they were trying to cover all their bases in regards to the Brokeback backlash, showing that they weren’t pushing the homosexual agenda, merely recognizing its existence. And in the process, they accidentally end up giving an award to Reese Witherspoon, who is clearly not an actress but some variety of giant forehead, like those brain bugs from Starship Troopers. I kept hoping the forehead would burst, spewing forth a host of space spiders to consume the audience, and end my boredom addiction. Sadly, I had to settle for the bugs crawling under my skin as I jonesed for another hit of The Two Towers.


Anonymous yummie said...

you fucked up the two tower link at the end

6:52 a.m.  
Blogger Ash Karreau said...

No, I didn't. "URL not found" was my review.

7:12 a.m.  
Blogger Prince Prospero said...

Oscars? Wake me up when they're over.

"Here's to Gods and Monsters!"
Witherspoon Forehead -- good.
Jar Jar Binks -- bad.

9:20 a.m.  
Blogger Jerk Of All Trades 2.0 said...

The good thing about Reese Witherspoon is you can actually show her movies on her forehead.

Salma Hayek was HOT.

12:20 p.m.  
Anonymous Jonathan Baum said...

Ha! So after all the whining, you did like The Lord of the Rings.

1:40 p.m.  
Blogger Ash Karreau said...

Nope. I thought it was boring. Read it again.

1:58 p.m.  
Blogger Prince Prospero said...

Yes, Salma Hayek is "hot". But this would not preclude Ash from demanding to see her Green Card, before measuring the suface area of her forehead.

8:14 a.m.  
Blogger Ash Karreau said...

The Green Card is irrelevant. She still has, uh, too much of a tan for me. I don't want to get voted out of my bunker.

9:13 a.m.  

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