Oscar Hangover 2007

I never make it all the way through an Academy Awards telecast without becoming at the very least distracted, if not outright bored to the verge of coma.

So it was last night. The fashions, the production numbers and Ellen Degeneres just weren't enough to hold my interest and, about 45 minutes into the proceedings, I stopped caring and started channel-flipping.

I did, however, catch two of the moments I wanted to catch in the first place. I wanted to see the presentation of the Best Supporting Actor award, because I had picked an upset in that category--Alan Arkin instead of the heavily favored Eddie Murphy. And Arkin won. I found it charming that he set his Oscar on the stage beside him as he read his speech from a crumpled piece of paper. (I know I sure as hell would need a piece of paper, crumpled or otherwise, to keep my thoughts straight up there.)

Maybe the Academy decided that Arkin's long career should be honored. Or that Murphy's performance, while good, wasn't Oscar-worthy. Or maybe the bad karma Murphy had accumulated through bad movies (maybe some of the Oscar voters saw Norbit over the weekend?) and all the homophobic shit he slung back in his standup-comedy days bit him in the ass. Or maybe the fact that Sailor J loves Little Miss Sunshine so very much tipped the scales. (It also won for Best Original Screenplay, so she must be doubly happy.)

Whatever. I'm happy for Alan Arkin.

And I got to see Jennifer Hudson win Best Supporting Actress for Dreamgirls. I thought she deserved it and said so when I left the theatre with Sister Dee. (I think my exact words were, "Just give her the damn Oscar, already.") I'm glad the Academy agreed.

I had hoped Peter O'Toole would finally win an Oscar, but that didn't happen. Not that I begrudge Forest Whitaker--he's always been a solid actor, and it's great to see him the Academy give him some long-overdue recognition. But O'Toole is elderly and reportedly in ill health, he really should have won one by now, and, by all accounts, his performance in Venus was indeed Oscar-worthy; it wouldn't have been a pity award. Would have been nice, is all I'm saying. Maybe he'll get nominated again. And maybe he'll win. Stranger things happen every day in this world.

At least Martin Scorcese finally won for The Departed, just as I'd predicted, but I was sleepy and today was a workday, so I was long in bed by the time he asked, "Could you double-check the envelope?"

One of these years, I'll guess right in every single category. Until then? Five out of six ain't bad.