I’d like to tell you it’s because I’m a bit of a movie buff. And, I am. I love movies, especially independent flicks, cult classics and historical pieces with just the right amount of action. My dvd collection rivals many and there are few noteworthy films I haven’t seen. And I’ll own it, I’m kind of a giant nerd. You can’t just watch a movie with me and expect to get away unscathed. I’m going to want to talk about it and think it through…together. I’m going to form opinions and blindly stick to them. I’m going to ask you questions that there is no way you could possibly know the answer to and then get annoyed when you don’t. More times than I care to admit, I have faulted Hollywood for overhyping what might otherwise have been a perfectly enjoyable movie but for the unreasonable expectations they created - and then acted like it was an original criticism. And, you’ll have to feed me some alcohol before I’ll admit I enjoy a good chick flick every now and then, and I do.
But with the Oscars, it’s like gearing up for the superbowl of movies, with the golden globes being like a play-off game, letting us know who we may want to be on the watch for, what underdogs have managed to surprise us and what favorite teams have been overlooked or perhaps just overrated. It’s All-American competition at its finest. Every year I’m late to work the morning the nominees are announced. I sit at the edge of my couch, sipping my coffee and waiting patiently for the years contenders. I then immediately add any movie I haven’t yet seen in the ‘best (and supporting) actor’, ‘best screenplay’, ‘best (and supporting) actress’, ‘best movie’ and ‘best foreign film’ categories to my Netflix queue before heading to the office. I also take pretty seriously my quest of seeing each best movie nominee prior to the main event. This was much easier to accomplish when there were just 6 movies a year. Indeed, my social life may have slightly suffered the year they introduced 10. This year, I’ll admit, I did a piss poor job of meeting this goal and haven't even seen half. In my defense, it is partially because I am (somehow) still reading “The Help” (lesson learned: never buy a hardcover book) and next up is “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” – and I just won’t see either movie before finishing the books. (But your math is correct, that doesn't excuse 3 others). As a result, I’ll be forced to treat my office Oscar Pool similar to my NCAA brackets and spend days reading predictions and reviews of the various nominees. If I’m going to trash talk, I need to be educated. Of course, that is why I prefer to personally research each movie and then do two separate pools – the way I think it will go and the way I think it should go (are you terrified that you’re friends with me yet?). Like, my march madness bracket experience, I have never won an Oscar Pool.
But hell, as a footnote for fun (I haven’t figured out actual footnote capabilities here, sorry), my best movie pick is The Artist although the Academy does love Clooney which would give a vote to the Descendents. And while I enjoyed that movie thoroughly it did not compare to Moneyball, which will be my personal pick (though I did love Midnight in Paris and spent weeks after fantasizing about Paris in the 1920s).
But it is not just the movies. Oh how I could justify my obsession if it was limited to something smart like that. The truth is, I can’t get enough of the fashion police and listen to Joan Rivers red carpet report like its gospel. “What was she thinking with that hair?” Preach it, Joan! But only after weighing in (to whoever is unfortunate enough to be watching with me) with my own unsophisticated opinions on the night’s fashion. I consider and respond to people’s posts on facebook or twitter giving their opinions on a particular actress's ensemble, when generally those type of posts would cause me to roll my eyes slightly. Okay fine, more than slightly. I don’t know what it is about the Oscars, but I definitely drank the juice and am a lifelong cult member. There’s something about the evening that makes me feel like Cinderella at the ball, even though I’m generally just sipping wine in my sweatpants. And like any American, I can’t help but picture myself there as I practice my acceptance speech in the shower.
Ohhh, the speeches, I almost forgot! The inspiring and heartfelt ones make me cry. The blubbering fools make me laugh. Acceptance speeches provide a whole other level of judgment and entertainment and any speech that lends itself to water cooler talk (this expression has probably lost its relevance, huh?) the next day gets a special shout out and place in my heart. And, almost as great as some of those speeches are, is the shot of the actors who did not win. There are few things more enjoyable than watching someone contort their face in a way where they try not to let on just how disappointed they are as they clap and blow kisses. Mean? Perhaps, but these people are wearing gowns that cost more than my yearly salary and were still nominees, there’s no feeling sorry here. Let’s face it, just because no one remembers second place in most of life does not mean the same holds true for celebrities. Their names and images are already burned in our brain and invoke such feelings of jealousy as is. Sure, they might not announce at next year’s event and they may not get to take home little golden Oscar, but they are clearly all winners (except for the obvious ways in which most of them are clearly not winners…please do not make Charlie Sheen jokes here).
This year, without checking the calendar, I bought concert tickets for the night of the Oscars. After literally crying about it, I realized I could record the event and then actually fast forward through the awards no one cares about, plus, of course, all those pesky commercials. See the benefits having a life will gain you sometimes? (I'm learning) The only hurdle will be the test of my willpower avoiding facebook and twitter throughout the night so as to not have any of the outfits or awards ruined. In connection with my thoughts earlier this week, I realize how pathetic it is that this feat will require a conscious effort on my part. Summoning facebook on my iphone has become second nature, it is almost a reflex when there is any downtime whatsoever like waiting on lines (or in line - donwnstate/upstate debate - GO!), and I will be waiting on/in a line. Oh no! So, instead of the E network and everyone who’s anyone in Hollywood all evening, I’ll be spending my night rocking out to an indie singer in one of my favorite venues in Manhattan and THEN get to head home for a hot date with my DVR. Umm, best day ever.
I’m anxious to see if Billy Crystal can remedy the train wreck that was last year’s hosting (I have faith that he can) and am more than rationally excited for the bridesmaids cast as they take the stage to present. So, pop the champagne and get ready to toast the Academy with me this Sunday. And, Monday morning, if you’re looking for anyone to chat about the debacles, the travesties, the stunning or the laughs – I’m your girl.
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