#oscarsostupid

Los Angeles, California

Is it possible to laugh your ass off? Because if it is, that surely would have happened to me after hearing about The Academy Awards broadcast last Sunday. Did I watch? Uhhh, no. Not in about ten years. I used to say that my home was a reality-TV free space, but there were/are exceptions. PBS News Hour during the Trump years. And some sports: baseball and figure skating, to be specific. I know that these are not what you think of when you think of reality TV. You think about that family whose last name starts with a K (I don't mind placing the name Voldemort on a blogpost, but I draw the line at inane unmentionables). And, how about those housewives? Good God. Or talent contests. Game shows! I cast a really wide net on this stuff, and over the past ten years or so, it has included awards shows. Don't get me wrong. I LOVE cheese. Just not cheesiness. So when I heard about this year's Academy Awards broadcast and read some of the commentary about it, I really thought it was hilarious. Like #oscarsostupid hilarious.

Meanwhile, I was over at TCM enjoying watching Turner Classic Movie's 31 Days of Oscar while questioning some of the programming, because that's what we do, especially since Robert Osborne has moved on to that theater in the sky. There was terrific programming on the actual day and night of the Oscars. All About Eve, which is a no-brainer. Gone With the Wind, The Artist, and Princilla, Queen of the Desert. I didn't watch it all. I was cooking during The Artist. Need I tell you that you can't multitask during a silent film? And, shouldn't really multitask during good films, as that is missing the point. Films can be transcendent. When I see a film, even if it is a repeat viewing, and I feel that connection, that revelation that can happen, I am reminded of an article I once read where the director, Phillip Kaufman, shared that when he came out of a theater after seeing La Dolce Vita, everything looked different to him. Those experiences when you can't just walk out of the theater and say: Ok, where are we going to eat? They resonate and reverberate. I remember seeing Kaufman's film The Unbearable Lightness of Being, and when it ended, the audience just sat there, silently staring at the screen through the credits and even after the screen went blank, as if awestruck. I have never had that experience looking at a two-dimensional or even 3-dimensional piece of art. I am just missing that gene. But I have it for films. And, over the 31 Days, I did marvel at the wondrousness of films. But how inane is it that they end up in an annual contest rife with self-congratulations and verbal flatulence?

I didn't spend the entire month watching TCM, though. I had decided after bailing on three television series after one or two episodes, to rewatch one that I loved. And that would be, The Durrells of Corfu. It was my end-of-day treat of one-episode only, my sleep bookended with that episode and my morning meditation. I frankly think that between the two I got more out of the Durrells. I watch less and less television anyway, so why not waste some time with a repeat of something beloved, and to draw it out so it lasts? It was like a half-pound of my favorite chocolates, dark Bordeaux. I can make that last for months.

But back to that Oscar's telecast. I am reminded of a line in Woody Allen's film, Hannah and her Sisters (the second time I have mentioned that film in recent posts). In it, Max Von Sydow's character, an artist, is watching television and remarks: Can you imagine the intellect of a mind who watches wrestling? And that is pretty much how I feel about awards shows. Hand me the envelope, please? Hang on. I'll be right back, after I laugh my ass off.