I thought last night's Oscars were plain old fun. Some very surprising moments that had me chuckling, contemplating, and in one case unceremoniously flipping off the TV screen.
The Ben Stiller impression of weirded-out, hairy, gum-chomping Joaquin Phoenix was jaw-dropping hysterical. Made even more funny by his co-presenter Natalie Portman playing it deadpan straight and not even cracking a smile. At one point, she muttered something about him looking like he worked in a Hasidic meth lab and I totally lost it.
I love musicals. I could've watched three hours of Hugh Jackman singing and dancing and been perfectly happy. I've read some reviews this morning that poked fun at the over-the-top dance numbers, but I liked them...especially the stuff with Beyonce. That woman has a set of pipes, a set of gams, and probably sets of other things best not to mention here. I'd rather watch that than the constant panning around to watch Brangelina sitting there looking sophisticated and bored, as though they were the night's royalty.
Speaking of...that's what prompted me to flip the bird. I thought Ms. Jolie's dress was ugly. Her attitude even uglier. And if her lips balloon up anymore, the woman's going to float away. Which would be just fine with me. And to show I do not play favorites, I hate Brad Pitt, too. He's the one reason I don't ever want to see Benjamin Button. I never understood the fascination women have with him. He's a blond pretty boy with an inflated opinion of himself. He and Matt Damon can go get lost in each other's eyes somewhere. I can do without them.
Gracious speeches: Last night was filled with them. I mean, we had our share of droning by people we never heard of who were thanking their Aunt Betty for the inspiration to do great sound editing. (Ok, so I made that up...but you know what I mean...) I was particularly impressed with Penelope Cruz's suggestion that she might faint and Kate Winslet's telling Meryl Streep she was just going to have to "suck it up" in reference to getting praise from everyone (and I kept wondering why Kate didn't thank Leo...then realized THAT wasn't the movie she WON for this time). Then there was the incredibly emotional speech by the screenwriter for Milk, who went all down-with-Prop 8 on everyone. And, of course, the thank yous on behalf of Heath Ledger from his mum, dad and sis, the moment when mascara ran through the aisles of the Kodak Theater.
But the best moment of the night came from Sean Penn, as he accepted his award for best actor. He was self-deprecating and humble, passionate and gracious, fierce and supportive. He even gave a shout out to his fellow nominee, the year's comeback kid, Mickey Rourke. What a talent Sean is. Despite his railing on paparazzi and making coworkers want to pull out their hair. Or perhaps because of those things...
The Ben Stiller impression of weirded-out, hairy, gum-chomping Joaquin Phoenix was jaw-dropping hysterical. Made even more funny by his co-presenter Natalie Portman playing it deadpan straight and not even cracking a smile. At one point, she muttered something about him looking like he worked in a Hasidic meth lab and I totally lost it.
I love musicals. I could've watched three hours of Hugh Jackman singing and dancing and been perfectly happy. I've read some reviews this morning that poked fun at the over-the-top dance numbers, but I liked them...especially the stuff with Beyonce. That woman has a set of pipes, a set of gams, and probably sets of other things best not to mention here. I'd rather watch that than the constant panning around to watch Brangelina sitting there looking sophisticated and bored, as though they were the night's royalty.
Speaking of...that's what prompted me to flip the bird. I thought Ms. Jolie's dress was ugly. Her attitude even uglier. And if her lips balloon up anymore, the woman's going to float away. Which would be just fine with me. And to show I do not play favorites, I hate Brad Pitt, too. He's the one reason I don't ever want to see Benjamin Button. I never understood the fascination women have with him. He's a blond pretty boy with an inflated opinion of himself. He and Matt Damon can go get lost in each other's eyes somewhere. I can do without them.
Gracious speeches: Last night was filled with them. I mean, we had our share of droning by people we never heard of who were thanking their Aunt Betty for the inspiration to do great sound editing. (Ok, so I made that up...but you know what I mean...) I was particularly impressed with Penelope Cruz's suggestion that she might faint and Kate Winslet's telling Meryl Streep she was just going to have to "suck it up" in reference to getting praise from everyone (and I kept wondering why Kate didn't thank Leo...then realized THAT wasn't the movie she WON for this time). Then there was the incredibly emotional speech by the screenwriter for Milk, who went all down-with-Prop 8 on everyone. And, of course, the thank yous on behalf of Heath Ledger from his mum, dad and sis, the moment when mascara ran through the aisles of the Kodak Theater.
But the best moment of the night came from Sean Penn, as he accepted his award for best actor. He was self-deprecating and humble, passionate and gracious, fierce and supportive. He even gave a shout out to his fellow nominee, the year's comeback kid, Mickey Rourke. What a talent Sean is. Despite his railing on paparazzi and making coworkers want to pull out their hair. Or perhaps because of those things...
"I want to be very clear that I do know how hard I make it to appreciate me, often." – Sean Penn, referring to his reputation as being notoriously difficult, while accepting the Best Actor award for Milk
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Sara M.