Risin' Up, Straight to the Top!
Not one but three people I went to high school with were nominated for Oscars last night (Matt Dillon, Dan Futterman, and Bennett Miller) so I was kinda jazzed for the whole whoop-de-doo; I had my spiritual "Go Tigers" pom-poms out (our Mamaroneck High School theme song was Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger") and I was hoping for my homies to brang it. And, well, that didn't happen, which can be explained for any number of reasons that don't have much to do with worthiness as far as I can tell - you're still all winners in my book, fellas! – but I know I'm not the only one who thought the whole show had a kind of drab, lackluster, SAFE (read: scared) vibe. How could the trailblazing Jon Stewart morph into such a non-entity? Why did Ang Lee make an "I can't quit you" joke? Why did the producers show Jamie Foxx and/or Morgan Freeman every time there was a reference to race or pimps? How about the weird anti-DVD propaganda Jake Gyllenhaal was forced to espouse? Clearly Charlize Theron knows what I'm talking about: the girl was outright miserable. Yet even a bizarro dress like the bunchy, bow-topped Dior number she was wearing could not cause the sunny goddess to transform into Snow White's evil queen. We SC girls were wondering if she and Stuart Townsend might have broken up like 3 seconds before she walked down the red carpet. Speaking of couples, Theron would have made a fine pair with the creepy Ryan Phillippe, whose skeevy, overgrown facial hair was punctuated with a huge stress zit on his forehead. Dude, this is Hollywood; use some makeup! Was he trying to negate his wife's relentlessly wholesome perkiness? Confession time (sorry Caroline): I am not a huge fan of Reese Witherspoon. I've even interviewed her and she is as cute as a button in person. And yes, she's a good mom and a nice girl and talented and has insanely perfect skin…and well, need I go on? I just don't find it such a bold move to portray a beloved American icon who stands by her speed freak man in very stylish outfits. I really wanted to see Felicity Huffman take it home, despite the almost obscenely plunging neckline of her Zac Posen dress. I started watching the Oscars last night (my first as an LA resident), feeling excited to be part of the town that makes movies happen, and I returned home from my little boozy viewing party feeling just a bit more cynical than I wanted to. Where was the glamour? The magic? There were great films made last year, but when an apparent mainstream agenda speaks louder than the messages of any of the films, I don't want to listen. Now if Reese Witherspoon took on "It's Hard Out Here For a Pimp" – then I'd be all ears.