- Joe Seer/Shutterstock
Did you watch The Oscars last night? Did you complain about how boring and horrible it was but keep watching anyway? Me too!
We saw some glamour in fits and starts, most of it radiating off of winner and queen of my heart Lupita Nyong'o, but the majority of dresses were different versions of bedazzled, nude leg hosiery. Benedict Cumberbatch, the most handsome bastard to ever bastard, expertly photobombed U2, who could only take themselves more seriously by retiring to teach doctoral-level courses on being in U2.
Can I just ask—what happened to showmanship? Most presenters opted to deliver their lines with the enthusiasm of a slow fart. The first five speeches put me into a coma—no one projectile vomited or had diarrhea down the legs of their tuxedo or anything!—then Pharell woke me up with that song we hear in every commercial now, and then it was 3 hours of waiting for someone's wig to fall off while "Gravity" to win every possible award. It doesn't help that the stage was littered with giant gummy bear Academy Awards, ominously glowing like sci-fi cryotubes—everyone was probably too afraid to be enthusiastic, worried that any slight tremor would cause the cases to crack open and unleash their worst gaping-mawed nightmare.
Also, it turns out that most of Hollywood can't read. Was the teleprompter just rolling images of optometrist eye charts? Every presenter sounded like Nell! I can't imagine it's easy to do, but I'd be more forgiving of the confused stuttering of the Hollywood elite if it wasn't literally their job to memorize and recite things other people write for them.
John Travolta butchered Idina Menzel's name so badly it instantly spawned parody Twitter accounts and a Travoltified name generator, so my faith in humanity is restored. You know who presented his part without a hitch? Benedict Make Out Party Cumberbatch.
Rich people love to pretend they're just like us and no one more so than host Ellen DeGeneres, who spent 60% of her time in the audience, ordering pizzas and asking Jonah Hill about the prosthetic wang he used in Wolf of Wall Street. Everyone was surprised that she kept sneaking up on them, Liza Minnelli was downright confounded, and the selfie that broke Twitter was the only time I wasn't shouting at her to get back on the stage.
Even though it would have been the only moment her soaring circus act was thematically appropriate, Pink! shed her contractually obligated harness and sang "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" to commemorate the 75th anniversary of The Wizard of Oz while standing in glittery red dress. She did a good job! But all of Judy Garland's kids were in attendance, so I was sort of wondering why Liza wasn't up there high-kicking and jazz handing her way through the tribute. She wasn't wearing a bra, so it's possible homegirl was just not up to the challenge, and I don't blame her.
The President of Movies™ jangled up to the mic to give the Academy a pat on the back for their commitment to diversity, which is laughable when you consider that Academy voters are 94% white and 77% dudes. With stats like those, Steve McQueen is excited just to be in the room.
If it's predictably boring and sort of disappointing, why do we keep watching year after year? I love movies (duh), and I don't think the Academy Awards are a good gauge of what's available, but it does set a standard. Your team might not be in the World Series, but if you love baseball you still want to see how the season ends.