Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, the whole world seems to be STILL talking about the 94th Academy Awards presentation one week later, naturally for all the wrong reasons. Oh, you think it had something to do with the prestigious winners of said gold statuettes? In another month, you will be hard pressed to tell anyone off the top of your head who won what and for what picture. (CODA won Best Picture, by the by. I had to look it up.) The same goes for the show itself, a return to the glitz, glamour, chintz, cheese and bombastic bloat in those pre-Pandemic days of yore, complete with forgettable hosts, insipid presenter patter and numerous excuses for useless memes, the only reason to watch at all. However there was one thing about that fateful night in March that will stand out in your mind, probably forever if happen to give any kind of shit at all.
Naturally, I'm talking about THE INCIDENT.
The Academy Awards should get down on their hands and knees to kiss the feet of Will Smith, the Slap Happy Daddy himself, for making the Oscars, which had been precariously perched on the precipice of extinction, relevant again. Whew! That was a close one! All he had to do was lay the smackdown on Chris Rock on live television and the world is the Fresh Prince's oyster. Unfortunately, he seems to be allergic to shellfish.
There's really nothing I can say about THE INCIDENT to add to the conversation. It was an insipid moment in time, captured for all the world to see and re-play again and again until the next insipid moment in time which is probably happening at this very moment. After all, the Grammys are on tonight. As Homer Simpson once pointed out, "Rock stars. Is there anything they don't know?" Right now, somebody could be kicking ass and taking names during the presentation of the New Artist of the Year. Don't forget, Kanye's still out there somewhere. You think he's going to be upstaged by Big Willy Style? Update: Nothing happened except Ukraine prez Zelenskyy's appearance, skunking the Oscars. Maybe he hated DON'T LOOK UP as well.
What occurred last week goes down as what they refer to as an Oscar Moment, just not one of those they believe touches the hearts and souls of we peons in the viewing audience, bored to horrors as we are, desperately waiting for something, ANYTHING of note to happen. In this day and age of epic fails and embarrassments that live eternally on YouTube, cream no longer rises to the top, especially when the world has become such a sewer. Whatever twits your Tweets, folks.
To be frank (or Dean or Sammy, I don't care), THE INCIDENT and all of its ramifications has encapsulates the displeasure I find in not only the whole process of the Academy Awards themselves, but the entertainment industry as a whole (or hole, as the case may be). The abundance of such programs have resulted in a malaise that can only overcome by whatever will be worthy enough to trend on Tik Tok, perfect for a society with non-existent attention spans. But the sheer reverence of this particular show, the equivalent of the Super Bowl (though not ratings-wise), has been grandfathered in over time and while it has tried to maintain its stature, it's been on a day pass from the Motion Picture Retirement Home for ages now. Home audiences have been dwindling to a trickle in recent times, not giving so much as a fig for one reason or another. The politicization of the ceremony has contributed to this reduction, whether they want to admit it or not. And if they do, it don't matter, cuz we have opinions and this is a world stage, dadgum it and we will be heard, even if there's no one there to listen. The rarefied air in the Hollywood bubble has become not only more apparent more recently as they lord their fame and fortunes over the huddled masses, especially in these settings, that we can assume that yes, they do know better because they are better. And of course, now matter how fucked up work conditions, harassment and inequality has been prevalent since the dawn of movie time, they will make damn sure they will fix it and make it better, no matter what and if they can, so can the world. But please, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain because he's got his pants down, chasing another starlet around the casting couch that we were told never existed.
But it's all fodder for a Red Table Talk, isn't it? The phoniness of Will, Jade Pinkett and their progeny are imperfect examples of the deterioration of what Hollywood stands for now. The phoniness, which has always existed, is more transparent than ever and this glass house of theirs is a microcosm of this current universe, much like a snow globe filled with asbestos flakes. And there they sat in lounge chairs before the main stage along with the rest of the "major" nominees while the rest of the poor slobs were relegated to the cheap seats, especially those not allowed to accept their awards on live TV. But then Will pops Chris Rock across the chops and is allowed to collect his big trophy, weeping throughout like the damaged cuckold he is in a feeble attempt of being contrite, blaming his actions on the Devil himself, making this embarrassing act of his true legacy.
What I've come to realize in recent Oscarcasts is that while I still love the movies, I have come to despise Hollywood in its recent incarnation. It reminds of what some used to believe about Communism, how the true idea was ideal but, over time, the corrupted version is what we're left with. But Hollywood was actually never "true". It's always been a facade, much like magic, illusions created with smoke, mirrors and misdirection. Even if you realize that early on, you willingly give in to that conceit because they were creating dreams and fantasies that took us out of ourselves in order to cope with reality. Even though they love living in their own personal Olympus, the Hollywood gods have felt the need to feel human again or at their perception of what it's like to be a person in this world. You know the saying. "They're just like us." But they're not. The more they try to be, the worse they get. Tinseltown has become a rusted version of itself and that is the sad reality, theirs and ours.
So this is the last Oscar blog. I know, I know. The world will be worse off without my pointed observations, razor-sharp opinions and juicy bon mots.
Now ain't that a slap in the face?
Cue the play-off music.
For previous blogs from years past, please go to: AND THE OSCARS GO TO...
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