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So it’s the day after the day after the Academy Awards. Not a winning night for Jake, Heath, Matt or Sir Randy, damn it. Whereas the studly actors didn’t win in their nominated categories (at least their films picked up some impressive hardware), I came in a less than victorious but respectable 4th place in the Oscar pool in which I participated. Not bad really, but not Oscar gold either. The winner of the pool had 20 out of a possible 24 correct predictions; I had 17. Oh well, as David Strathaim says in his Oscar nominated role, “Good night, and good luck”…until next year’s broadcast.

Speaking of the Oscars, I may be in a minority here but I thoroughly enjoyed this year’s show. The CGI opening sequence was brief, entertaining and visually engaging. (Thank god we were spared one of those initially amusing but ultimately tiresome Billy Crystal openings where he does a musical parody of the Best Picture nominees. I for one do not miss Crystal as the host. Can you tell?)

Jon Stewart did an admirable job of hosting but it was clear that some of the Hollywood industry types in the audience didn’t get his humor. Tough nuts for them, I say. And the show came in under three hours. Lucky nuts for us.

The clip montage of homoerotic moments from Westerns was classic. Even for those who have seen The Celluloid Closet, the subtext of these clips was surprisingly gay, gay, gay. And hysterical to boot…although again it seemed that a noticeable portion of the audience was feeling a little uncomfortable with all those double entendres dripping from the smoking guns from the silver screen. I love it!

Thankfully, there was no shortage of hot men in tuxes in the Kodak Theater. Anyone else find himself praying for the day when men wear tuxedos like they do blue jeans. Can you imagine?

Although many of the frontrunners took home Oscars (Reese Witherspoon & Philip Seymour Hoffman, for example) who on earth would have expected Crash to have walked away with the evening’s top award? I mean Crash is okay but Best Picture? C’mon, give me a broke—er, I mean break.

Okay, time to get back to reality…

S.R.

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