Some People get post Christmas depression (hell, some people just get Christmas depression, depending on what their family is like), that deflated feeling of Boxing Day, when it is 365 days until the fat red man comes to bestow cheap tat to all once more. Maybe these Some People I am talking about are actually only 10 years old, but I am sure that there is a few of them, and I am sure that when I was one of these Some People, I felt the Boxing Day Anti Climax as much as the next kid.
But I don't feel that way on Boxing Day any more.
Now that feeling is pretty much earmarked for a Tuesday morning in late Feb or early March. It comes with the same feeling of sleep deprivation. And bloatedness. And a little guilt.
It's the Day After Oscars. (You might imagine my shoulders slumping with the forming of that phrase.)
So seeing as the months preceeding the ceremony offer me the chance to get all obsessive, with the scouring of form guides, and the hours in darkened rooms pondering the moving image, I figure I am allowed to post at least once about this more-than-minor obsession.
Now I am not going to give much of a commentary on the red carpet (the ladies from Go Fug do a fantastic job of that already) but I have a few things I NEED to say.
But I don't feel that way on Boxing Day any more.
Now that feeling is pretty much earmarked for a Tuesday morning in late Feb or early March. It comes with the same feeling of sleep deprivation. And bloatedness. And a little guilt.
It's the Day After Oscars. (You might imagine my shoulders slumping with the forming of that phrase.)
So seeing as the months preceeding the ceremony offer me the chance to get all obsessive, with the scouring of form guides, and the hours in darkened rooms pondering the moving image, I figure I am allowed to post at least once about this more-than-minor obsession.
Now I am not going to give much of a commentary on the red carpet (the ladies from Go Fug do a fantastic job of that already) but I have a few things I NEED to say.
Firstly, Fuck I Hate Asymetrical Necklines.
They are not pretty. They are distracting and lopsided and... hideous.
Probably the only way to go if you are trying to emulate an origami swan...
And there were FAR too many ladies being strangeld by these nooses last night. I'm looking at you Frieda Pinto! The only one that managed to pull it off, was Winslet. And she receives the Best In Show award from me. Closely followed by Anna Hathaway. She looked hot too.
By only other Red Carpet Gripe is the Reds
Why, Oh, Why do the Rangas and Strawberry Blondes (as, apparently, they would prefer to be called) insist on wearing the washy outy pale colours. Do they not know that it makes them look like:
a) they need to vomit
b) they need to eat a pie
c) they want to eat my brains
d) they need to invest in some (moulin) rouge
??!???!
Once again, Kidman's effort this year prompted an all too loud "You've GOT to be Kidding me!!" from the comfort of my pyjamas and couch.
Tilda Swinton and Melissa George were not much better. At least Amy Adams had the decency to wear red. AndEnough of the gossipy shite. To the juicy bits.
This time of year makes me miss Sydney and My Girls even more than usual. It has been standard operating procedure in the last 4 years or so to devote the months before the Oscars to research and discussions. While isloated in the town where I currently reside, hereby known as West Bubblefuck, there IS a cinema. It has been showing Australia for 14 weeks. For almost every session I have been in, I need to leave to remind them to turn the house lights off at the start of the film, or fix the ratio, or turn on the subtitles, or change the reel... Slumdog only just made it here last week. The Wrestler isn't yet anticipated to arrive. Foreign films? Bah! I guess what I am trying to say is Oscars season has been a little frustrating this year. I drove with my parents for an hour and fifteen minutes, each way to Slightly More Northeast Bubblefuck just to see Button. I crammed on my weekends and Christmas hols in The Big Smoke, and there were some films that I just knew I wasn't going to get to. Which is tragic on a scale of Hamlet, of course.
But I still am digressing!
The anticipation, avoidance of all things newsworthy and general working myself into a late February frenzy... And at 9.30 pm, Our Hugh strutted onto the stage.
His opening number was HILARIOUS. Its a shame about Baz's Musical medley with the Obvious Miming Beyonce, and the naff High School Musical nerds... Channel 9 edited out 9 of the awards that were presented, but of the 15, I managed to pick 13 (lets not mention the 7 I got wrong out of the edited ones). I loved the new way of presenting the acting awards by getting the previous winners to analyse the performances of the nominees.
Sofia Loren being totally mashed as she slurred and swayed and tried to push her botox into shapes that would make words was really the only celebrity gaff. A more sober version of Sofia to be found here.
As for individual awards, not many surprises there. I tipped Penelope (though I haven't seen the film) and while I tipped Mickey for the Man's Gong, I was SO delighted when Sean Penn took it out, and delighted too that he didn't waste a chance at the pulpit.
Considering 2008 was such a baren wasteland of film, I think this year was not really too bad a ceremony!
