Ah, the Oscars. It's that time of year when we all hold our breaths to find out which movie had the biggest marketing budget for an intensive solicitation of Academy Member consideration. Last year, it was Crash. A decent, socially responsible, made-for-tv Magnolia ripoff. I can't even remember who won the acting awards. Can you?
The Oscars used to be tolerable, but we've plumbed the depths of insufferable vanity to such a degree as to make them a hollow shell of their former grandeur. There are so many awards shows catering to the self-congratulatory these days that it really doesn't seem to matter who wins what.
There is one kooky thing about the Oscars. With the exception of last year's winner (Crash), the Best Original Screenplay winner is usually the one I remember the most from that year. None of the following Best Original Screenplay winners won Best Picture:
Citizen Kane
Sunset Boulevard
The Red Balloon
The Defiant Ones
Guess Who's Coming to Dinner
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
Network
Breaking Away
Dead Poet's Society
Pulp Fiction
The Usual Suspects
Fargo
Good Will Hunting
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Of course I say all this now but I'll be sitting in front of the boob tube soaking it all in on Oscar night, just like last year and every year before that.
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