image from cnbc.com
Boredom at Union Station
“2020 has been a hard year for everyone, but our
love of movies helped us get through it.”
The 93rd Academy Awards ceremony from last night
is on my mind, pushing the flitting sun-breaks in the
overcast Northwest beyond the cognitive back burners.
Sure, it was a nice try to reinvigorate a lackluster set
of recent awards shows, but due to Covid restrictions,
they broadcast it from a train station, with a quarter of
the normal audience, with maximum social distancing,
and intermittent mask-wearing,
Filmed live, directed by Steven Soderbergh, I hoped
for something chic, and woke, and creative. What was
delivered was about as exciting as a limp phallus or a
sad pair of sagging breasts. Everything seemed off-
kilter and out of balance, while suffering from chronic
fatigue syndrome. 85% of the movies honored were
streamed and had never seen the inside of a theater.
We should have called the show the “Emmscars”.
There were no musical numbers, no live orchestra;
rather there was this hip-hop DJ, fresh from some
bar mitzvah, and no live host. It was bogged down
with topical politics and appropriate ethnicity, moving
like a dose of sodium pentothal. Even the “In
Memoriam” section flipped by in two nano-seconds,
making it hard to keep up, or feel anything.
I don’t support most of the “cancel culture”, but as a
life-long movie buff, and ex-professional actor, who
has faithfully watched the Oscars since 1953, this
show was insipid, dull, and still-born; about like
filming a meeting of the City Council. People
Magazine called it “hilarious, emotional, and
inspirational.” They must have seen a different
broadcast than I did.
A squirrel in our
maple tree chattered at the
Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub