Is it just me or is the Oscars getting a little bit overly sentimental? There are definitely times in Oscar's past that he's been a little softie (i.e. Halle Berry, Denzel Washington, 3 6 Mafia...jk) but yesterday's winners just didn't ring true. Both in choice and acceptance speeches, last night was definitely off the mark, sincerity-wise.
Jeff Bridges' performance of a down-and-almost-out country western singer turned alcoholic battling life's demons was a great one. Unfortunately, it was lost among the empty beer cans of a watch-the-paint-dry kind of film. Still, probably the most deserving of an Oscar, this swan-song opportunity for Bridges was sadly marred by a horribly long-winded acceptance speech that made it hard to feel really good about him winning. The speech began interestingly enough with parental remembrances from yesteryear, and for a second, it seemed as if it was leading us to a rare glimpse into the formation of an acting genius...but alas, no. Instead, the usual litany of thank you's and political massages followed the disjointed beginning. I guess he got caught up in the moment of his own self-congratulation.
Maybe we should have a new Oscar acceptance rule:
No thanking people we (the people) have never actually heard of...oh and #2
: No thanking agents unless you're sleeping with them!
Sandra Bullock (uh, hellloooo!) Talk about a Blindside! Sandra Bullock is NOT a good actress. Not unless she's really a classically trained virtuoso pianist and highborn, English duchess in disguise. She's the same in every role she's ever played (goofy, yet kinda cute, take-no-BS-everywoman.) Just because she's in a tear-jerker biopic recounting the struggle to overcome awful circumstances by an underprivileged black kid shouldn't automatically equal an Oscar nod...didn't we already have one of those this year, anyways? Yes we did, and that nicely segues into…
Mo'Nique. And I deliberately did NOT look up the correct spelling (or capitalization) of her name, because "if you're gonna give yourself a name with silly spelling, ya better get used to having people misspell it." Now, while her acceptance speech was well-delivered, I
saw Precious…and to be honest, I was a little surprised at the film's inclusion with the year's best. Raw and shocking, definitely...well-composed and engaging, not so much (though it did have one of film's worst "ulgy-fications" by way of Mariah Carey as the dowdy social worker.)
I am only slightly happier at Hurt Locker's Oscar house-cleaning (as it should, fantastic film) than shocked at Stanley Tucci's loss and perplexed by the oddball behavior (which seemed more than slightly, chemically altered) of Locker's helmsman (or more appropriately, helms-
woman,) Kathryn Bigelow...wow. Go easy on the pharmaceuticals, darling. I hope it was just the shock of soundly beating Avatar on [almost] all fronts that led to her bizarre demeanor and rambling, stiff-armed-bug-eyed speeches.
All in all, this year's Oscars seemed a little flat, a little too nice, a little too appropriate. Lost from the presentation was the love and majesty of film and the prize of acknowledgement for the best of the bunch by the industry's elite. This year wasn't packed with power punch performances (God, it was hard not to put plethora at the head of that alliteration) to be sure, but there's something so disagreeable about rewarding the best of a bad lot (I wonder if this is how Bank America feels every year around bonus time.)
