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LAist Liveblogs the Oscars
Live, from in front of our television set, it's LAist's Oscar night liveblog extravaganza.
I've spent the hours preceding tonight's telecast half-assedly getting ready by drinking beer, making brownies, and marveling over how few movies I actually saw this year (yet again.) I've stocked the larder with movie-going snacks, like popcorn, junior mints, and Twizzlers (sorry, this Canadian cannot do Red Vines; they taste like candles).
Last night some amped up pitch gal with a perma-grin came on my tv and told me I could add some pizazz to my Oscar party by renting my own red carpet, getting some velvet ropes, and serving only red and gold (uh, yellow) Mn'Ms. Sure, lady, like that's going to happen. Besides, if I really wanted to do the Oscars like a starlet I would have stopped eating days ago, taken a couple of Xanax, grabbed a shot of Botox, and fine-tuned my desire for universal acceptance and adoration.
Okay, enough of all that. Let's talk Oscars. I'm going to update this as needed, with the most recent juicy morsel at the top, so if you're late to the party, grab yourself some Honey Mustard pretzels and scroll down to catch up.
We're here, it's the Holy Grail of the night, the big one, the 80th film to be named the Best by the Academy...Bring out those Coen guys again, it's NCFOM. Are we excited, angered, pleased, surprised? I didn't see it, so I'm going to (after over 5 hours of blogging non-stop) keep my mouth shut. Three hours and eighteen minutes, plus credits, and the show is ooooooover! I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted.
Best Director. I smell the end of the line for the 80th Annual Academy Awards. Martin Scocese has the honor of handing out this year's award in the category. And he gives it to a pair of directors, Joel and Ethan Coen for No Country For Old Men, making it their second win for the night. Ethan Coen gives a simple "thank you" as an addendum to their previous acceptance speech, and Joel Coen tells a funny story about the brothers has young boys and young filmmakers.
That Carl's Jr. commercial where the guy gets chili all over his face is truly, sincerely, honestly disgusting.
Via Twitter, Why Tuesday? asks: "What if the Oscars were on Tuesday?"
Helen Mirren has a faaaaaabulous way of saying "cojones." Yes, it's time for Best Actor. No surprise here, really, it goes to Daniel Day Lewis for There Will Be Blood
Okay, Best Original Screenplay. I will totally out myself as a Diablo Cody loyalist. This is because we gave birth to our original blogs around the same time and were in the same little bloggy circle (obvs life took us in way different directions) and I believe in her talent something fierce. And...she wins it!!!!!! This is a proud moment for bloggers (and strippers) everywhere! Yo go, girl! I am so proud of her, and remember her blogging about writing the script...what a journey it's been! Congratulations!!! (Call me!)
Wow, this show has been on for...ever. Coming up, OG Screenplay and Actor, and the great dash to the finish line. Is it me or do the words "Cream Oil" sound really gross, and not at all something I want to smear all over my body?
Best Documentary Feature. Taxi to the Dark Side beats out, among others, Michael Moore's Sicko.
Okay, it's a nice idea to include the troops...although kind of weird to hear them reading the nominees for Documentary Short Subject. A tearful skinny lady in a silver dress shakily talks about same sex couples, which is the subject of her winning film.
DEAD PEOPLE MONTAGE! An annual highlight. They end with Heath Ledger, as suspected. But, hey, they left off Brad Renfro, who caught a lot of attention in The Client.
From the sublime to the ridiculous, Cameron Diaz struggles to say "cinematography" in her presentation speech, and also says something kind of snarky about Sunrise which is an amazing silent film. Oscar goes to There Will Be Blood. Let's see how many Oscars this pic's "milkshake" will bring to their yard tonight.
Jon Stewart invites out Marketa Irglova who was cut off when she went to give her part of the acceptance speech for "Falling Slowly" as Best Original song. She talks about hope and optimism, and it's one of the nicest moments of the show. Stewart's a class act.
Another schmaltzy song from Enchanted. To quote one of my fellow show watchers: "Ugggccccchhhh." Or, to quote LAist Editor Zach: "I'm getting sick of all this fucking Enchanted shit." And the award for Best OG Song goes to...(dear god not Enchanted)...Sweet! "Falling Slowly" from Once!!!!
The ancient man who is getting an honorary Oscar before he departs this earth is getting a standing ovation. I like that he's sporting an old school white scarf atop his tux. He will now thank everyone he's ever met, from the man behind the candy counter who gave him his first caramel at the age of four on up to Nicole Kidman, who just introduced him to the audience. Ironically, he thanked someone who was known for "cutting to the chase."
This one's for LAist Editor Zach. The NY Times' Carpetbagger blog notes that of the three acting awards handed out thus far, all three have gone "to actors whose professional homes lie outside Hollywood" aka the Americans are losing in their own contest. There's a metaphor about our global status in there somewhere.
It's the Bourne conspiracy! The action franchise takes another technical award, making that three for the night.
Finally, real people singing a real song. It's "Falling Slowly" from Once. Kind of a weeper, but better than what else has been up there so far. It's followed by a montage of all the past Best Pictures. Wow, I have not seen a whole lot of these movies! Time to update the Netflix queue out of guilt...or should I just admit I don't ever want to see Braveheart or Bridge on the River Kwai?
Jon Stewart and the 11-year-old kid who sang that August Rush song are playing Wii tennis on giant screens! Now that looks like fun!
Past Best Actress winners montage...I think it's time for Best Actress! Here comes Forest Whitaker! W00t! Queen Liz I, a lady with Alzheimers, someone looking for a big red pillow, Edith Piaf, and a pregnant teen. And the Oscar goes to...WHOA, big surprise! Marion Cottillard as Edith Piaf in La Vie En Rose. This flummoxed French girl says she's speechless but still manages to sputter out a gleeful thanks to life and love, adding there's some angels in this city after all.
Sound Mixing! Woo hoooo! The ponytail guy wins again! Now maybe he'll get a raise and be able to afford a haircut.
OMG, the late Doris Duke's sketchy butler Bernard Lafferty just won an Oscar! Just kidding, Bernard Lafferty is dead, too. But some weird looking guy with a 1991 ponytail and dangly earrings was making an acceptance speech for one of those Bourne movies.
Kristin Chenoweth asks in song how she might know if he loves her. Were it not a Sesame Streety Disney tune I'd tell her she'd know he loved her if he didn't sleep with her best friend.
Coen Bros take Best Adapted Screenplay for No Country For Old Men (based on the novel by Cormac McCarthy). Man, things are somber. Why can't someone besides the announcer lady mess up or do something ridiculous? Who will mix things up with some one-armed push ups? Why couldn't Enchanted be a movie about a princess who runs into and performs musical numbers with gangster rappers? Am I seriously left to get excited about the dead people tribute montage?
Lawsuits, police questioning, biopics, serious children, and a lady slapping someone. Best Supporting Actress is quite the collection of dames. And it goes to Tilda Swinton, who clearly didn't expect to win. Another non-American. Hmmm. She has managed to say both "buttocks" and "nipples" in her speech. Well done!
Do the show producers count the time it takes for the people in the bad seats to make their way to the stage to accept their award towards their allotted speech-making time?
After a musical performance of a depressing song about a deadbeat dad from August Rush, Owen Wilson presents Best Live Action Short, and another award gets handed out to someone who is not a native English speaker. Yay, internationalism!
Why do we need a "refresher course" on Best Supporting Actor moments of the past? It's a bit sad to see that clip of Cuba Gooding Jr. getting so hyped up about his award, since that kind of enthusiasm is rare. Jennifer Hudson's wooden delivery of her teleprompter lines might necessitate the Academy asking for her Best Supporting Actress Oscar back. That is if they can take their eyes of her enormous pointy boobs. I'm waiting for her to say "Hooked on Phonics worked for me!" Instead she says the Oscar goes to Javier Bardem. Or, as Regis Philbin likes to call him, Xavier.
I neither smell what the Rock is cooking, nor understand what he's doing at the Oscars. Snore. Back to Scrabulous on Facebook.
Poor Amy Adams had to sing that retarded song on a bare stage. Except those things behind her that look like giant lit up birth control rings. At the end, when she trilled "now wasn't that fun?" we replied "No."
Time for the first song performance, some insipid Disney fare. I sense a bathroom break for me right about now.
Katherine Heigl is Charlize Theron's twin! She also randomly seems like she's about to burst into tears while reading the nominees for best makeup. It's okay, honey, Norbit chokes me up, too.
Jesus this montage is weird. The insult to injury aspect is that a lot of it is taking place with Celine Dion warbling "My Heart Will Go On" in the background.
I want Steve Carrell to host the Oscars!
Clooney gets out an awkward into to our first montage of the evening, which honors the Oscars themselves. Nice. Less than 20 minutes in and we're already wasting time with crappy filler fluff.
Deep into politics. I feel like I'm watching The Daily Show, and I miss Billy Crystal. Just typing that makes me feel a) old and b) not drunk enough. Oh look, Jennifer Garner is presenting best costume.
Our first political joke of the evening is at Hillary Clinton's expense. Stewart says she calls Away From Her--the story of a woman who forgets her husband--"the feel good movie of the year." Stewart his pointing out all the celebs in the audience and gives them some gentle ribbing. Former blogger Diablo Cody gets a major shout out and a joke about her taking a pay cut since leaving stripping to be a screenwriter. He also makes a joke about how to get a stripper name, and those in watching chez moi ignore Stewart in order to figure out ours. (Mine, "Stanley Shafer.")
Finally. Showtime! With just about a week's worth of prep time, it should be interesting to see what the writers have in store for us and Jon Stewart. Looks like we're getting a big computer graphics version of a Los Angeles that only exists in the movies, complete with random movie characters roaming and floating around.
LAist editor Zach sez: "the set looks like an old episode of battlestar galactica with giant penises all over." Seems fitting since Stewart calls this show the "makeup sex" of the WGA strike.
In the frantic last minutes of his pre-show duties, Regis steps gingerly down the steps off the stage and starts to name all the celebs in the front row. "Oh look," he says, "It's Xavier Bardem!"
Regis seems at home with the old ladies dressed up to take part in the live performance of some song from Enchanted. "One false move and you're dead!" he cautions the costumed performers. Who knew an awards show was so life and death?
This Regis red carpet is pretty much an edited together rehash of the last two hours. Philbin likes to cling to people's hands (Laura Linney). Frankly, the JELLO Dulce de Leche pudding commercial is more interesting, as are the brownies we just cut into at my house. Philbin to Helen Mirren: "Love your dress, what is this?" It kind of looks like her sleeves are made with old-timey saloon lace curtains.
Oh for crying out loud, we have another half an hour of red carpet to contend with, now in the hands of Regis Philbin.
Showtime approaches. We're turning to ABC in time to see George Pennachio tell Michael Moore to say hi to the international audience, and, in true Gracie Burns fashion, does just that. Now we have to cram in all the celebrities arriving down to the wire, and preggers Cate Blanchett is the last one they talk to. No one said "baby bump" dammit!
Viggo Mortensen looks like the Unabomber!
Colin Farrell has brought the only woman who he can't get pregnant: His mother. Seacrest asks him a stupid question about Nicole Kidman being instrumental in getting him into acting. Farrell says he's never heard of that before.
Casey Affleck's wife Summer gives Seacrest the most sincere reaction out of anyone to having to talk to him on the red carpet; she looks off elsewhere and seems thoroughly disinterested in him. Atta girl.
Never one to shy from making fun of an Oscar-nominated actress, Seacrest mimics Marion Cotillard's french accent...to her face. Smooth move, dude. We here on the other side of the tv were amused by Cotillard saying she is having a "eunuch" time. (Ok, so she said "unique" with a French accent. It's not like were making fun of her in person.)
Seacrest attempts heterosexual male interest in boobs by asking Jessica Alba if she will be breastfeeding. "Wow, that's really personal," she says in what might be the night's biggest understatement. No surprise, the interview is over.
After letting Sean Combs pimp his latest project he moves on to interview the ever-giggling Cameron Diaz, who probably started drinking early today. Kimora says Diaz's dress is wrinkled in the back, and Giuliana says girls at home can do Cami's look. I'm working on it right now.
Miley Cyrus claims she wants to be known as a true artist. Might I suggest severing ties with "the mouse" first? 'Cause it's not going to happen if Disney's holding the purse strings.
Meanwhile, back in the "skybox" (DRINK!) Giuliana is obsessed with Gary Busey. Kimora Lee Simmons calls Jennifer Garner's dress mermaid-like, and then says people are playing it safe, and safe to her equals boring. She's also forgiving people for their boringness because it's raining. She's so benevolent!
Laura Linney and Jennifer Garner are caught whispering by Seacrest, and some old man my roommate says is "that crazy lunatic who is always fucked up" interrupts the interview and kisses the girls, who are taken aback, to say the least. Seacrest admits to the camera he has no idea what's going on; he can't get rid of the crazy guy fast enough. Oh, it's Gary Busey.
Seacrest uses Amy Adams' bizarre empty mesh bag as an impromptu genital-area coverage device. Just watching that makes me feel dirty. Now he's busting out Amy Adams' Enchanted doll.
There's a Patrick Dempsey doll? That's creepy.
My new drinking buzzword is "skybox."
The little girl from Atonement gets the Seacrest treatment. How the hell do you pronounce her name? It's spelled Saoirse Ronan, but it sounded like Seacrest called her "Fisher." WTF? He then flicks his sweat onto the camera and throws is back to "G" in her "skybox" who along with gossip-savvy Ken talks about Clooney's girlfriend, who used to be a cocktail waitress in Vegas. When we go back to Seacrest he tells Steve Carrell he eavesdropped on him from one aisle over at Gelson's in Studio City. Does the rest of America want to hear this for real?
Seacrest: "Only a true queen can pull off a Bardem." You would know, Ryan.
Giuliana and Kimora Lee Simmons are talking about fashion. Anne Hathaway's drapes match the carpet, we're told. Which means her dress is red, like the red carpet. Awwww, I know, that was a bad joke. But I think it's a step up from Giuliana and Kimora comparing the shades of their spray-tans, which they just did.
Knock-knock. Who's there? Steve Carrell.
Lisa Rinna tells Seal she'll "see him at Starbucks." He looks worried, and I'm confused. Maybe I shouldn't be channel-switching back and forth. I'm guessing Rinna gets her Starbucks on in Studio City, since her boutique is there. For some reason she also tells Seal he "looks good in string cheese." I'm going to stick with E! I think. This woman scares me. I'm more comfortable with Jillian Whatshernamenow doing weather reports like she does on Good Day LA, which is what they have her doing over there, only more sedate.
Seacrest challenges a blonde actress to practice her newly-learned movie punching skills on him. "People would love to see me bleed" says Seacrest. I'll second that.
George Clooney has arrived. Women everywhere get a little moist. I'm just sayin'.
Red Carpet arrivals, and (snicker) it's raining. There's a clear awning set up to cover the main stretch of the red carpet, but of course the broads are wearing gooseflesh on their bare arms because what rain coat goes with a floor-length Versace gown? Sorry, Gap and other retailers with real estate at Hollywood & Highland--your presence has been completely disguised.
From 3-5 p.m. on E! we have Ryan Seacrest and Jillian Reynolds (um, when did she stop going by Barberie?) and Giuliana whatshername while over on the TV Guide Network we have Joey Fatone and Lisa Rinna with the color commentary. Who will be wittier, cheesier, and least offensive? It's hard to say, they're all so...Um, yeah. Anyhow.
I'm just thinking that the smart/alcoholic celebs are the last to arrive, because if it's a toss-up between getting to the Kodak early and waiting in your seat, or waiting in the limo queue on Hollywood Boulevard, the Oscar goes to waiting in the limo, because at least there you can keep your shoes off, pass stress gas, and drink booze.
So far no big names have made the trek down the red rug, except Heidi Klum and Seal. Joey Fatone wonders if Heidi's knocked up because she looks so radiant. Naughty, naughty, Joey! But you know who is knocked up? Angelina Jolie, for reals. E! has someone talking about her and her "baby bump" (how nauseating is that term?) and Brad Pitt making an appearance at yesterday's Independent Spirit Awards. The dude says he won't "out" her, because she hasn't confirmed it, and suggests maybe it's just gas. "Oh Ken!" scolds the hostess.
Maybe "baby bump" should be my red carpet drinking game buzzword. If so, that last segment just earned me about half a bottle of Sapporo. Cheers!