Doorman Diaries

And the pointless trophy goes to …

Since the only thing I even minutely enjoy about the Oscars is that it shares its name with tasty golden bread sticks, I thought I’d wax pathetic about the asinine, glad-handing, back-slapping “awards” show that smears its way through our cultural climate annually.
Here is my breakdown of the Oscar nominees:
Aahhahaha. I can’t believe you lost! That’s hilarious! James Cameron’s money-chugging juggernaut is about blue-faced kitties who get sad because their happy ghost tree is in the way of the precious Unobtainium (really?) so they fight back against warships and tanks with spears. Yep, you and I both saw it. Probably twice. That plot has made a billion dollars.
Doesn’t really seem like something I’m ever going to watch. Apparently Mo’nique made a strong enough impression that they bestowed on her the Best Supporting Actress award. Unfortunately, she’s an obnoxious beast in every interview I’ve seen, so I was rooting for anyone else in her category. A lot of good that did me. 
“The Hurt Locker”
I actually saw this movie in the theaters and thought it was worth watching, though it did make me a little twitchy and paranoid about multiple explosives around me at all times. As if I wasn’t twitchy or nervous enough as is. Plus, whenever you kill Guy Pearce in the first 15 minutes of a film, I’m in. 
“Inglorious Basterds”
I’m really glad Christoph Waltz’d his way to a supporting actor Academy Award. See what I did there? Genius. If an actor can you make you like a venomous Nazi tracking down and killing Jews, then kudos, you get a shiny hairless trophy. 
“Crazy Heart”
Though I didn’t see the movie, Jeff Bridges won as Oscar for playing an aging drunken country singer. I think he should have simply won accolades for having to pretend to find Maggie Gyllenhaal attractive. I just can’t help thinking she looks like an extraterrestrial than ran face first into a brick wall. Right? Anyone?
I don’t even want to comment on Sandra Bullock winning an Academy Award. I guess because she played a white southern woman who cared for an African-American kid with no family it should mean something, but it just sounds like Disney-ian Hollywood drivel to me. 
The only reason Bullock is even remote interesting anymore is because her tough-guy husband Jesse James was previously married to a crazy porn star. Now make that movie, and I’m sure people would show up in droves. 
Now let’s remember with all the lavish parties, tuxedos, hair and make up, there comes a time when we have to remember that these people actually don’t matter in the long run. 
They make movies, that’s all. Granted, a few celebrities like to assuage their souls and donate to a charity or stump for a cause they’ve been told is important. 
When it comes down to it, they’re just playing make believe. Let’s not deify people who pretend to be someone else and are paid exorbitantly to do so. 
Living real life is the hardest role to play. Where is your Oscar?
And scene.

1 comment

Boggz March 20, 2010 at 12:05 am

“wax pathetic about the asinine”

More ramblings from a wannabe writer? How may brain numbing hours did you spend rewinding your DVR?

Don’t give up your day job!

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