Live blogging the Oscars... UPDATED

My hot water bottle is leaking.

Old-fashioned or not, I like to take a hot water bottle with me to bed. Not only does it keep me warm, it also makes up for my congenital defect of keeping a companion for longer than 17 minutes. As usual, last night, just before I went to bed, I tucked it in, like it was my own little green plastic baby, totally oblivious to the fact that the screw cap had started to give. I woke up around one to find myself in a puddle of lukewarm water, and couldn’t properly get back to sleep. This is all by way of saying I am not on my top form this cold, and unusually wet, February morning…

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One thing before we start off – I am not sure how “live” this whole thing is going to be since my internet connection is acting up. There are a few wireless networks, but I don’t like latching onto other people’s internet connections without letting them know. Me and my morals… (Mind you, this one genius has called their wireless network “Battlestar Galactica RULEZ” – I bet you their password is Starbuck)

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Only a few minutes to go until the ceremony. Hey, Kristin Chenoweth! I have only seen Pushing Daisies’ pilot, but it is a very good show. Not a fan of whimsy in general but that one makes it work. A lot to do with Bryan Fuller, and also a lot to do with Chenoweth, and Anna Friel.
Regis Philbin is making everyone nervous. He is talking to the dancers now, urging them not to fuck up, because half the world is watching them. Good on you, Regis.

Nice montage of all sorts of characters and scenes – The Terminator is driving the truck that’s delivering the Oscars. Very similar to the one from last year.

I love Viggo Mortensen’s beard. It’s glorious. And talking about beards, there is Kelly whatsherface. Ooh, snap!

Dorothy Hammill’s wedgecut – Tommy Lee Jones didn’t like that joke. Cheer up baby. It’s the Oscars.

This IS great; Jon Stewart’s rocking the house.

Sorry about the stream of consciousness – I never said this was going to be any good.

“HOW WILL WE KNOW IT’S THE FUTURE?”

It’s Costume Design now. And Elizabeth: The Golden Age wins. I predicted that, so well done me. Alexandra Byrne did a great job with Hamlet, and even though I haven’t seen Liz II, I am a fan of her work – so far, so good…

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These montages have been great lately. This one now is on the 80 years of the Oscars. And I can’t believe I am going to say this but My Heart Will Go On did not jar as much. That was a brilliant montage. People bitch about montages in general, but few realise how difficult they are to get right.

Phillip Seymour Hoffman is wearing the same suit he’s worn the past two years.

Animated Feature. It’s got to be Surf’s Up. Nope, it’s Ratatouille. Awesome. That is one incredible film. Brad Bird is running on a bit, and the music starts. Just let them talk!
The ubiquitous Katherine Heigl and her fake “I’m genuine – honest” schtick. She’s presenting the Make-Up award. I predicted Norbit, but it goes to La Vie En Rose. Oh well. Je ne regrette rien. Marion Cotillard looks to be genuinely happy for the make-up guys. I couldn’t get their names – sorry.

Amy Adams is singing Happy Working Song. That was a brilliant scene with all that vermin cleaning shit up. I love, love, LOVE Amy Adams. She has a great voice on her, too. She was championed by Roger Ebert in her work for Junebug two years ago, as was Ellen Page this year for Juno. Both films have quirky women, both are, essentially, called Junebug. Spooky, eh?

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Visual Effects now. Ian McKellen was so NOT the right voice for Iorek Byrnison. This is going to Transformers, which was a surprisingly good little film.

WHA!!!???

The Golden Compass and a big CGI polar bear won. Oh, look at the geeks on the stage. My darling geeks. You shall inherit the earth.

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Sweeney Todd wins art rirection. It also wins art direction. I love the way that lady says Tim Burton.

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Supporting actor now. And another good montage on all past winners. Tommy Lee Jones winning for The Fugitive. He got on the stage that year, and said: “For everyone wondering, I am not REALLY bald.” Heh. And Cuba Gooding, Jr, and his truly great speech. I like shit like that, what can I say…

Casey Affleck, and force perspective is sandwiching him between Calista Flockhart and Cameron Diaz. Nice. But Javier Bardem is winning this.

Philip Seymour Hoffman – “...and I am never sick at sea.” That Aaron Sorkin, and his Gilbert and Sullivanisms…

“I am Siva – the God of Death.” That is a better catchphrase than the milkshake line, to be honest.

Javier Bardem wins. He speaks Spanish, and says something about Spain. El Pueblo unido jamas sera vencido, Javier. No nos moveran.

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Oscar’s salute to binoculars and periscopes. Bad dreams – an Oscar salute. This is one great show this year.

Keri Russell presents the second nominated song. It’s half four in the morning. I have to leave for work in exactly two and a half hours. It’s going to be a particularly cheery Monday.
Anyway, the song is over. Can’t say I am a fan.

Owen Wilson’s presenting best live action short. Le Mozart des Pickpockets wins. A lot of non-Americans winning this year. That’s great.

Jerry Seinfeld as the bee from that film about bees – what was it called now – is presenting the best animated short. Peter and the Wolf wins. The announcer messes Susie Templeton’s name. She calls her Jackie Chan.

Best supporting actress now, and a montage of past winners. Alan Arkin presenting. Let’s hope for a surprise. I think Amy “I ain’t got no dayceaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” Ryan is winning this. Ruby Dee, and the scene where she tells Denzel she will leave him. Fucking fantastic scene.
Tilda Swinton wins! That’s great. I loved Michael Clayton. What are you wearing, Tilda? That was a good speech, though.

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Jessica Alba, her impressive body of work, and the technical awards.

James McAvoy and Josh Brolin presenting best adapted screenplay. The Coen Brothers are walking away with this one. Yep.

A little bit now on how the whole thing happens. I don’t want to do this again, but this is great. A friend of mine used to work for PwC. He had to do far less glamorous stuff than tallying the Oscar votes.

Kristin Chenoweth, like a hobbit with tits, sings the second song from Enchanted. She does a great job, but the song itself is not that great. I didn’t particularly like that sequence, but this production number is really good. Interesting range this year – the first song was bizarrely minimalist (getting rats to dance on cue must have been a problem), the second more conventional, and this one is rather huge.

A commercial break and I start getting ready for work. I really hope I can get to see the final award before I leave for work.

Judy Dench and Halle Berry! Heh! Seth Rogen and the Superbad kid. Best Sound Editing. Bourne Three wins. Per Hallberg – what a great name. A Swedish Jew, maybe? Best sound editing – does this go to No Country as I predicted? Nope – Bourne Three. I am getting these predictions wrong left, right, and centre…

Best Actress – Forest Whitaker to present it to Julie Christie. Please let it be her, and please let her go postal about something political… Wow! Marion Cotillard! Expect to see her in a third-rate summer blockbuster in 2009 – that Oscar opens doors… Good on her, though. That was a good movie.

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The song from Once, which, strangely enough, you don’t want to hear again once you’ve heard it once.

Jack Nicholson presents a montage of all the best film winners of the past 80 years. The Greatest Show on Earth! Around the World in 80 Days! Ordinary People! So many greats…
Renee “Yo-Yo” Zellweger is presenting film editing. This might go to Bourne Three for a Bourne sweep, but I predicted Roderick Jaynes so I shall stand by that. Nope, it’s Bourne. Because the most amount of cuts is tantamount to great editing.

“Someone just took the lead in their Oscar pool based on a guess!” Oh Bruce, you catty so-and-so…

Nicole Kidman – she got there late. Special award for Robert Boyle.

Back from commercial, and Penelope Cruz is presenting best foreign film. I am a regular on the Four Word Film Review site, and one of my finest achievements, even if I say so myself, is my review for The Odyssey – Penelope, Cruise. Such wit, eh? Anyway, The Counterfeiters wins. And the director gives a good speech.

Patrick Dempsey presents the final song – the third one from Enchanted. John McLaughlin sings, Amy Adams and a bunch of other people dance. This was my least favourite song of the film. And the only thing I can think about right now is Monday morning traffic on the second Bosphorus bridge. Fun. Anyway, John Travolta literally waltzes in to present the award. Falling Slowly from Once wins. Even though I don’t like the song, I am glad it won purely for the novelty value. “Make art, make art.” Nice. “That guy is so arrogant.” Nicer.

I must now get ready for work. I will finish this up in a couple of hours from memory.

Please feel free to comment. Thank you for reading this ramble so far.

(Both photos I've used are from Wireimage.com, by the way)

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UPDATED

I managed to see the entire show after all. I even took a photo of myself right next to the telly as Denzel announced the best film winners, but I can’t upload it to Blogger for some reason. Maybe Blogger doesn’t accept fugly. Self-deprecation, thy name is Ali.

After I stopped doing the live blog, and packed up for work, Jon Stewart comes back on stage, and brings out Marketa Irglova, who was cut off with the music. Very classy move, and very touching. William Goldman has written about this before, and I totally agree with him: Don’t cut people off when they’re giving their speeches, make the show more self-indulgent. Also, this from Goldman again, they should let us know the vote tallies. It’d be a great water-cooler topic.

Robert Elswitt then comes on to win best cinematography for There Will Be Blood. I will post my review of the film later this week, but just a taste of things to come: it’s crap. Astute as ever, me…

The In Memoriam section did not feature Ulrich Mühe, Brad Renfro or Roy Scheider, even though Renfro died before Heath Ledger, and Mühe died in July.

When it was time for original score, which went to Dario Marianelli as I’d predicted (my predictions were 41% on the money, if you’re interested), I had already decided to shave and shower so I might have missed some stuff here and there. Anyway, he won – good. Then Taxi To The Dark Side won best feature documentary, and all I could think of was how great a title Taxi to the Dark Side could have been for Revenge of the Sith. Anytime anyone mentions the dark side of anything, I can’t help but think of Palpatine in Jedi, chewing the plastic scenery, going “Everything that has transpired has done so according to MY design.” Interestingly, a lot of people know that speech by heart. At least they think they do because when they get to the end, they always say “I am afraid the battle station will be quite operational when your friends arrive.” Actually, the line goes, “I am afraid the deflector shield will be quite operational when your friends arrive.” It’s attention to detail like that that makes me such a hit with the lay-deez.

Next up was Harrison Ford, who presented the best original screenplay award to Diablo Cody. Cody might not be a lady, but she’s all woman. And backlash my backside. The room erupted into applause when Ford called her name. She ended up giving a fairly run-of-the-mill speech, punctuated with sobs. Worse things happen at sea, luv.

Then Helen Mirren came on to give the best actor award, and it was some dreadful copy she had to read. Anyway, Daniel Day-Lewis won for the loudest performance in the history of film. “I’ve abandoned my boy – I’VE ABANDONED MY CHILD!” Oh, shut up.

Finally, best director went to the Coens, whose No Country For Old Men also won best picture. Everyone lived happily ever after.

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I went to the gym during lunch, and this blast from the past was on VH1. Enjoy, and thanks for reading my self-indulgent odyssey. Please check back later this week for all sorts of reviews, and commentary. Cheers, ta, thank you very much…

Oscar Predictions

2007 was a great year for cinema – and I say that without having seen No Country For Old Men, which I shall rectify later this week. From seemingly small, intimate comedies, to magnificent yet flawed modern–day American epics, audiences experienced a vast array of brilliant films from Hollywood studios and independents alike. Paradoxically, however, we only have a few days to go till the Oscar Ceremony, and there are clear front runners in most of the major categories where such an embarrassment of riches should have produced more than its fair share of strong contenders. Having said that, there’s always at least one or two major surprises in even the dullest of Oscar ceremonies, and it is with that caveat that I offer my final predictions for this year’s Academy Awards.

Best Foreign Language Film:

That Persepolis is not among the nominees is a travesty. That The Band’s Visit was turned down is another (even dialogue in English is subtitled in the film). My awareness of the films in this category is murky at best. Since my original piece on the nominations, I have managed to see The Counterfeiters, but not Katyn or 12. Unlike a few weeks ago when I thought Beaufort was a contender, this is now between Austria’s The Counterfeiters and Kazakhstan’s Mongol. The latter has had a major marketing push in the last few weeks – and even if that hasn’t given it the edge, I think whimsy works in its favour. The irony would not be lost on the voters that the former Soviet Republic of Kazakhstan’s come up with a grand-sweeping epic spectacle in the tradition of Eisenstein’s Ivan The Terrible and Alexander Nevsky only a year after all that brouhaha about Borat. My heart also tells me the film will win but that might have a lot to do with the Turkic connection I feel with the Kazakhs. The Counterfeiters is the likeliest choice but still...

Prediction: Mongol

Best Animated Feature:

Surf’s Up’s inclusion is one of the more bizarre choices in the history of Oscar nominations. Maybe penguins are the modern-day equivalent of Meryl Streep – regardless of what they’re in, they’re bound to get a nomination just by showing up. Persepolis, a fine film, is too esoteric for this category. It would have been a shoe-in in the previous one, considering this year’s lack of a clear art-house faves like last year’s Pan’s Labyrinth or The Lives of Others. This is still very much Ratatouille’s award to lose, and rightfully so. It is the first of the modern animated films that is as complex as a great live-action film, if not more so. One of last year’s best film, it deserves all the accolades it’s awarded.

Prediction: Ratatouille

Best Documentary Feature:

When the nominations were announced, I wrote “I have only seen the characteristically hyperbolic Sicko (Michael Moore is probably the only person in the world who can wax lyrical about the NHS) and the bookish No End In Sight, which should win it if only for its “don’t let the door hit you on your way out” value.” I still haven’t had a chance to see the other three films, but I stand by my original prediction. Another year, maybe last year or the next, and War/Zone, with its depiction of African children in, well, a war zone, could have tickled the voters’ liberal fancy, but this is an election year, and the last chance to jeer the outgoing chief. Let’s hope for some Errol Morris-like histrionics when they give out the award.

Prediction: No End In Sight

Achievement in Film Editing:

There’s a strange tradition that, more often than not, the film that wins this award also takes home the grand prize. Sure, such a generalization can be extended to include many other major categories, but this one seems to deserve it more so than the others. Besides, this year might very well buck that trend anyway. Into The Wild doesn’t stand a chance, but NCFOM, TWBB, and DBATB all had excellent film editing. Unappreciated by me, yet hailed by many others, Bourne Three (as three as the wind blows) also made the headlines with its on-the-surface ground breaking yet actually rather by-the-numbers editing, too. After all, we are talking about an award that once went to Black Hawk Down against Fellowship of the Ring, Memento and Moulin Rouge. So, this is between No Country and Bourne. Based on the general buzz, though:

Prediction: Roderick Jaynes aka The Coen Brothers - No Country for Old Men

Achievement in cinematography:

As I said before, another year, and Roger Deakins would have won it hands down for his work on Jesse James, but his votes will more than likely be split this time out. Having said that, this is a technical award, and you never know, voters might approach it more academically. I still think this is a three-way-split, with Janusz Kaminski as the dark horse.

Prediction: Robert Elswitt - There Will Be Blood

Best Original Song:

The three songs from Enchanted will cancel each other out – I like them all fine, but they are, nonetheless, all the same. When the nominations first came out, I thought one of them was bound to get an award, purely for the strong showing from the film, which I interpreted as a desire to award a beloved commercial flick. Once has got a lot of momentum now, though, and it’s garnered quite a bit of publicity following the shebang about its eligibility, and it might pull through. I can’t say I am a fan of the song (the last best original song winner that I really liked was Carly Simon’s Let The River Run, which is as awesome today as it was in ’88 – Dylan’s Things Have Changed is also aging well, especially in the context of the film).

Prediction: Falling Slowly - Once

Best Original Score:

Had Jonny Greenwod been nominated, he would have been the front runner. This one is between Marianelli and Giacchino (the former has the edge). Either way, it’s going to one of the paisans (there are four of them, after all).

Prediction: Michael Giacchino - Ratatouille

Best Supporting Actress:

When the nominations first came out, I wrote “She was never going to win, however hip her playing Bob Dylan might have been (the novelty value of which has since kind of run-off), but her nomination as best actress is the final nail in the coffin for anyone hoping to see the lovely Ms Blanchett with her fingers round the golden (easy now) statue.” I am not so sure anymore. Watching the film again, Blanchett’s performance is the one that truly stands out, and her best actress nomination might not affect the voters: the Good Queen Bess sequel was just not well received. Ruby Dee is the obligatory veteran, and Saoirse Ronan the obligatory young ‘un, that the people like to patronise. They both gave very strong performances however (Dee is tremedous in the scene where he tells Washington’s Lucas that she would leave him), and, in another year, either could have won, and it would have been apt. Ruby Dee’s SAG win might work in her favour, but it might also be considered enough is enough. Michael Clayton, a solid studio vehicle, won’t be completely shut out, so Tilda Swinton also has a good chance of winning. So what to do? Well, the supporting categories are usually the ones where upsets are more commonplace so...

Prediction: Amy Ryan - Gone Baby Gone

Best Supporting Actor:

I couldn’t stand Casey Affleck’s finicky, fidgety and, finally, frivolous performance, where he seems to be channeling Giovanni Ribisi and Jeremy Davies, and he is in way over his head with the rest of the actors here. Hal Holbrook and Tom Wilkinson’s people have been working the town, I hear, but I can’t see either of them going the full distance. Philip Seymour Hoffman’s performance in Charlie Wilson’s War was the true stand-out of the show, and, without having seen No Country, my choice would be him. But the Javier Bardem tornado is unstoppable. He seems to have won every single award this season. I think, of all the categories, this one is most definitely settled. He will Javier Bardem and eat it, too.

Prediction: Javier Bardem - No Country for Old Men

Best Actress in a Leading Role:

This one is sealed. I can't see Ellen Page sneaking in past the force of nature that is La Christie.

Prediction: Julie Christie

Best Actor in a Leading Role:

Unlike Juno, which came out at the right time to become a hit, face the backlash, and then go into the final lap armed with a backlash-backlash, There Will Be Blood never quite managed to shake off the “good, but not that good” reaction it received from many, who seem to have a love-hate relationship with Daniel Day-Lewis’s performance. A month ago, and this was most definitely Day-Lewis’s award. I am not so sure now, and George Clooney might sneak in. It all depends on that final viewing before voters fill out their ballots.

Prediction: Daniel Day-Lewis

(Aside: I was watching Interiors the other day, and taking some notes for a Woody Allen retrospective I am planning on for early-March, when I switched over to my weekly torture session that is House [see previous post], and found myself doodling a combination of Daniel Plainview and Mr Punch. Hence the picture above. That it bears almost no resemblance to Plainview should be considered an homage to the fact that the film also bears no resemblance to Oil!)

Best Director:

Because The Diving Bell and The Butterfly received almost no major attention, there is a part of my brain that says Julian Schnabel might win this. But then the saner part prevails, and I realise that The Coen Brothers have got this one in the bag. Not just for No Country for Old Men, but for Fargo, and Miller’s Crossing, and Barton Fink, and Blood Simple, and The Big Lebowski…

Prediction: The Coen Brothers

Best Original Screenplay:

I still stand by my original predictions when the nominations came out.

Prediction: Cody, if it’s her night. Gilroy, if it’s his.

Best Adapted Screenplay:

To say that PTA adapted the screenplay for TWBB from a novel by Upton Sinclair is to use the verb “to adapt” rather liberally. Oil! is actually the only Sinclair book that I have ever read, and the film and the book could not be more different. That’s just an observation, though, and doesn’t have that much to do with the film’s chances of nabbing this award, which is still considerable. As in the previous category, Ronald Harwood, too, might edge in a win owing to Diving Bell’s poor showing in the nominations. That said…

Prediction: The Coen Brothers

Best Picture of the Year:

Some people are talking about a Juno sneak while There Will Be Blood and No Country For Old Men duke it out. I don’t see how that is possible since the latter is already so far ahead. A surprise in this category would be HUGE. OK, I admit - almost as huge as Rocky's dodging past All The Presidents’ Men, Network and Taxi Driver to win in 1977… That thought scares a lot of people, but I liked Juno, and still haven’t seen No Country so it doesn’t irk me as much. I am sure my position will change once I finally manage to catch No Country on Thursday.

So those are my predictions. Check back on Sunday night (Monday morning in Europe) when I will be covering this year’s awards with a live blog (at three o’clock in the morning my time). If my erratic internet connection decides to go all milkshake, then it will be “live-to-tape,” and I will post it first thing on Monday morning. I can’t wait. I can only hope it’s at least half as good as the genius that was the infamous opening number of the 1989 ceremony:

"I can't deny the fact that, right now..."

In his recent post "Jack Nicholson explains the Oscars for you," Jim Emerson asked an interesting question: Have you ever been watching a movie and gotten the impression that the actor(s) are thinking more about Oscars than their characters?

Well, who hasn’t?

This point gets raised often during the awards season, and I have always had mixed feelings about it. It is not necessarily a bad thing per se – an actor’s thinking about an Oscar more than their character isn't, necessarily, tantamount to whoring, or selling out. Similarly, a bad performance(in a “weighty” film) can exist in spite of the actor’s genuine concentration in the character they’re playing, without their entertaining even the smallest thought of recognition (or validation). And then there are simply terrible performances where the actor doesn’t think about anything at all – I’m looking at you, Benigni.

For example, albeit a wonderful performance (and an even greater film), Peter Sellers’s turn as Chance in Being There fits the criteria of an actor thinking more about the Oscar than their character. From the same year, it’s always seemed to me that Sally Field, too, was more concerned with getting her hands round the golden statue than Norma Rae, the character. Whereas, what I perceive to be, Sellers’ pandering for a best actor nod does not bother me in the slightest, Sally Field’s does. Consequently, I have always been biased towards the actress – Places in the Heart doesn’t have a place in my heart, and she even spoils Mrs Doubtfire for me (as far as I’m concerned, if a film features a man in drag, then it's already done half the work). For me, this intentness on the Oscar is a relatively modern phenomenon going back to the seventies with Barbra Streisand in The Way We Were, or George Burns and Walter Matthau in The Sunshine Boys. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of any examples from earlier (I’ve never seen Charly, so maybe Cliff Robertson? I don’t know).

I recently watched Gandhi for the first time in twenty years, and Ben Kingsley’s performance reeked to me of Oscar-bait. There is a Performance in every single scene with him – sometimes an actor just has to say the line, and do what he is told. As David Mamet says, the nail doesn’t have to look like a ship, it has to look like a nail. I know Stanley Kubrick argued that every single shot in every single scene of a movie had to communicate the essential truth and meaning of the film in question, but that was Kubrick. When one’s making a biography, a form not suited to drama in the first place, at times, one has to keep certain things simple. Including the acting.

The respective performances of four of the actors who made Edward Copeland's survey of Worst of the Best Actor winners also have "For Your Consideration" written all over them: Denzel Washington in Training Day, Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man, Tom Hanks in Forrest Gump, and AL PACINO (a name which, by law, has to be in ALL CAPS) in Scent of a Woman. In fact, it’s a given that an actor playing a drunk, disabled or plain old mental character has, on their mind, more than just the evocation of truth and beauty through their craft. They want that statuette, and they want it bad. Daniel Day-Lewis in My Left Foot is the exception that proves the rule – Daniel Day-Lewis in Gangs of New York isn’t. Robert DeNiro’s lugubrious work in Awakenings, Jack Nicholson’s hammy and histrionic turns in The Departed and Ironweed, Sean Penn's fidgety performance in I Am Sam – in each case, the actor’s preoccupation with the Oscar overshadows their performance on the screen.

Almost all modern actors have done it one time or another: Sean Penn in Dead Man Walking, Julia Roberts in Erin Brockovich, Brad Pitt in 12 Monkeys, John Hurt in Midnight Express, Warren Beatty in Bugsy, Vanessa Redgrave in Atonement, Ben Kingsley in Schindler’s List, Eddie Murphy and Beyonce Knowles in Dreamgirls, Morgan Freeman in The Shawshank Redemption, Danny DeVito in Man On The Moon (a performance I simply ADORE), Meryl Streep and Cher in Silkwood…

Of course, my choices betray more about me than they do about the actors in question. Good or bad, we impose on all actors baggage that we bring along – which, admittedly, they’ve helped us pack in the first place. It’s just that sometimes that baggage pales in comparison to the actor’s lust for recognition.

Bootlegs: What to do? Part II

An exceptional quality of the internet is the unprecedented way with which it’s ushered in an era of global popular culture on a real-time basis. Anything that’s celebrated anywhere in the world instantaneously becomes a global phenomenon provided people are interested in it. Since that interest - or consent, as that most self-righteous of linguists calls it - is something that can easily be manufactured, it stands to reason that the global marketplace is of utmost importance to mainstream products of pop-culture, the only true core of which is the United States. In fact, that’s not an astute observation more than it is an undeniable fact that most Hollywood products - tv shows, or, more so, films - are tailored more and more with the global marketplace in mind. And it’s impossible for studios to keep tabs on their products, and control their release schedule to optimise income, when there is such an easily accessible nexus of piracy that is the interwebs.

Yesterday, I tried to outline how this is an ethical dilemma for someone, like yours truly, who is against the idea of piracy, but who is also a pop-culture hound. It is impossible to keep away from spoilers on shows like Lost or Heroes (even though the only spoiler for that show is that it’s rubbish) when their terrestrial premieres in the rest of the world are bound to be much later than in the US. A quandary exists for Oscar nominated films, too. As it currently stands, No Country For Old Men, There Will Be Blood and Juno, best picture nominees all, are not set to open in Turkey until late February, early March. Even if one manages to keep one’s innocence towards them for a while, that will be a hopeless feat come Oscar time. And it’s not just about the internet either. Even if one can avoid TV or newspaper reports, and tries to turn a blind eye towards features on said film on internet journals and blogs, there is always that one guy waiting in the wings to rub salt on the wound that is the films’ late release by spoiling them at most inopportune moments.

And people don’t even have to look hard for them anymore. Like I mentioned yesterday, there are shops galore all over Istanbul, not to mention other European cities, that sell pirated films, and do so with not only impunity, but apparent gusto (A pirate copy of Juno had a pitch-perfect DVD jacket presentation, with quotes from critics, technical aspects and, bizarrely, details of fictitious extras). The Thursday before I Am Messiah Metaphor opened in the US, for example, a colleague of mine had already seen the film on a bootleg DVD, which, apparently, was a top quality screener copy. Now that was not a film that I was anticipating with fervour, but No Country For Old Men is. When that film is only scheduled to open a month after the Oscars, the temptation to watch a pirated copy is all the more tempting. Even though I won’t have to do that (an upcoming independent film festival in Istanbul seems to have all three in its line-up), I can’t say that the choice to watch bootleg copies is a clear-cut case of black and white. While it must be mighty comfortable on that high horse, campaigners against piracy have to face the reality of the facts. You can’t create an instantaneous media event out of your product, only to keep the latter away from the global public. Not only is it morally dubious, it doesn’t make great business sense. Either the studios get into the piracy business, or they find a way to roll-out their films globally. The two options are not mutually exclusive.

(Sidenote: Even the eventual DVD releases pale in the rest of the world compared to the ones in the US. Not only are they technically inferior, but, most of the time, also lack all the extra bells and whistles. The classics, basically any film that was made before 1969, get hardly any releases in this country[Try to buy the complete catalogue of Ozu and see how far that gets you in Istanbul]. It’s extortionate to order them from the US, or even the UK. I bought the box sets of the first four seasons of The West Wing two years ago, and ended up paying half as much as I paid for the DVD’s at the customs.)

Oscar, Oscar...

Has there been a more lackluster year for film in recent memory? Maybe it’s because the previous two years were so bloody great, but I don’t think that’s it. That would have been a factor had this year been flat-out terrible, but no: it was just mediocre. If 2004 was fire, and 2005 was ice, then 2006 was Derek Smalls; lukewarm water.

Still, that’s no reason for not holding the Oscars (if the Academy does not stop gazing its navel because of war and disease, it sure as hell won’t stop for timid output), and here we are: the 79th Annual Academy Awards, or the Oscars, which is what we simple folk like to call them. The following is my attempt at a live blog of the telecast. For all you geeks out there (well, out of the three people reading this – Hi, Mom), think of it as Harry Knowles’s Oscar recap, but more cohesive, less unctious, and with, you know, punctuation.

A couple of things you should know before you read any further: I am in Istanbul, Turkey (as opposed to Istanbul, Kansas), so I am doing this at three in the morning, having had only a few hours sleep. I am also stocking up on caffeine, and if you think I’m rambling now, just wait till they start giving out the big awards.

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OK. Good. Fine. It’s almost three now, and the glitterati are making their way into the shindig. I have never been a particular fan of the Red Carpet; the only one I enjoyed was three years ago when I saw Roger Ebert interviewing celebrities, and asking them actual questions. Some were nonplussed, but some seemed to have found the prospect of answering real questions liberating. Ken Watanabe, for example, struggled with a challenging question of Ebert’s regarding the fate of Tom Cruise’s character in The Last Samurai. I like Ken Watanabe.

Leonardo diCaprio is looking refreshingly orange. Not tanned, orange. And Nicole Kidman like waxwork. I would shit myself if I ever ran into her at night. What the fuck would she be doing in Istanbul?

Peter O’Toole also looks like waxwork. But that’s OK, because he’s 129 years of age. He’s like the Mr Burns of Hollywood. But nice.

There is a man wearing an actual cape on screen. Unless your name starts with a B, and ends with an ela Lugosi, you should never wear a cape. Ever. Fuckwit.

I am enjoying the insipid “informative” subtitles that keep on appearing on the screen as Chris Connelly et al interview the celebs. Not only are they ludicrously lame, but also coolly condescending. “Leonardo has always wanted to be an actor.” “Al Gore used to be the Vice-President of the United States.” “Martin Scorsese’s eyebrows weigh seven pounds. Each.”

Mark Wahlberg is now channeling his character in The Departed. OK, I know they don’t like going through this pablum, but it’s part of the job, and there are worse things someone could be doing for tens of millions of dollars. Cheer the fuck up, bitch.

Eddie Murphy, in a self-deprecating, and uncharacteristically calm mood, has just declared his love for all his films, including even Pluto Nash. I am an Eddie Murphy apologist, and I would always forgive him his bad choices - by God, he’s got enough.

Anyway, bullshit, bullshit, who-are-you-wearing (which is a morbid question, by the way), I-loved-you-in-that-movie, let’s-do-lunch crappola is almost over. I am having a fragrant cup of coffee, sitting on the world’s comfiest chair. Come on, Ms DeGeneres. I’m ready for your close-up.

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A montage of all the nominees talking at the camera. John Knoll from ILM is there. And so is Patrick Marber. Which reminds me, I must watch Alan Partridge soon.

Oh. My. God. The nominees are actually standing up clapping themselves. Oh, not like that, you perverts.

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That’s it? THAT’s the monologue? That’s why we watch the fucking show in the first place. I mean, OK, the whole musical number schtick is Billy Crystal’s trademark, but they could have at least made an effort. The whole thing was shorter than my manhood. Only less funny.

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Oh, it’s the incredible walking, talking candlestick. And Daniel Craig. A few years ago, a friend of mine was working at the London offices of International Creative Management. He was in awe at the fact that he was “in Hollywood," and he was generally full of shit anyway (we tell our own), so I used to just ignore him. This was just around the time of the first Tomb Raider, and I remember his telling me that they were really pushing Daniel Craig as the next big thing. He said to me, back then, that Daniel Craig would be the next Bond. There are no coincidences in Hollywood anymore. Almost none.

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I have a feeling that Pan’s Labyrinth will win in all the categories it’s nominated in. Which would be awesome.

Is it me or does Guillermo Del Toro look like a spitting image of Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys?

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Hollywood Sound Effects Choir. I liked this more when it was an advert for Honda. And, you know, this would be much more interesting if they stopped showing us the choir, and just showed the actual montage itself. Because, talented as these people are, they still remind me of that guy from Police Academy.

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Sound editing? Really? Didn’t they use to give out one of the big awards right at the beginning of the show? I mean, I can feign interest only so long before I get bored and start scouring the channels for porn.

You know, when people use the phrase “men in uniform,” all I can think of is a gay strip troupe. Then again, when am I not thinking of a gay strip troupe? Anyway, the phrase rips the self-importance off of any haughty speech.

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Right. Best Supporting Actor. Eddie Murphy is going to win; everyone knows that. I just hope his speech is funny.

Oops. Everyone’s wrong. Alan Arkin wins. Yay! I mean, I haven’t seen the film but I am well chuffed nonetheless. Purely because his name sounds like mine.

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My God, there are a lot of commercials. Obviously, we don’t get the American adverts over here, and, since there are, like, seven people watching the telecast in the entire country, they keep on running the same promos over and over again. I must have seen that My Name is Earl promo at least a hundred times. It gets funnier each time.












Not.

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We come back to a blurb about The Departed, the most overrated Scorsese flick since the one about gangs of New York. You know, GoodFellas.

I pour myself my third cup of coffee, and great, it’s my least favourite part: the songs. Why is it that they invariably suck ass? Apart from Let The River Run, there has not been one decent song in living memory. Anyway, it doesn’t matter as the producers take pity on the world and only show two ditties before cutting to…

Leonardo DiCaprio, Al Gore and his eight chins are being earnest. The latter nine are feigning disinterest in running for office next year, and oops, he is interrupted by music. Hi-larious.

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A Heroes promo. I get the cheerleader’s power, and the painter can see the future. But what’s Ali Larter’s ability supposed to be? Looking hot, hot, hot?

By the way, my name is not short for Alison. Just saying.

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A Gilligan’s Island joke? Seriously?

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Best Animated Film. Right. It’s going to be Cars.

Shit. It’s Happy Feet. And George Miller looks like The Penguin. From Batman. I suppose that’s intentional. Anyway, I am glad it’s not Cars because it was not a very good movie. It just felt so formulaic. Whereas Monster House was just, well, different. It was never going to win (says he who’s guessed neither of the big awards correctly so far), and I am glad it was at least nominated. The penguins were funny, and I like Robin Williams’s crazy schtick, so that’s good enough.

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Helen Mirren and Tom Hanks are giving the screenplay awards. I like Hanks and all, but when was the last time he was funny?

William Monahan wins, and the announcer says he based the script on the Japanese film Infernal Affairs. Japanese? For fuck’s sake. For a show with a supposedly international theme, you’d think they’d get the fucking countries right. First, they imply that Penelope Cruz is Mexican, and now this.

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Emily Blunt and Anne Hathway announcing the best costume. I’d like to be the turkey in that sandwich. (Geddit? Turkey? I’m Turkish? Whadda ya know from funny, you bastards!)

The girls are having such a blast as a bunch of beautiful people model the actual costumes in question. It’s ridiculous.

Anyway, Milena Canonero wins for Marie Antoinette. It turns out she desgined the costumes for Barry Lyndon, for which she won her first Oscar. You see, when they mention films like that, it just reminds me of the dullness of this year.

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I couldn’t hold it off any longer, so just as Tom Cruise pontificates on Sherry Lansing, I go to the bathroom. My girlfriend brought back a whole bunch of People magazines with her from the States, and I find out that William Mapother is Tom Cruise’s cousin. Anyway, I come back to find out that Pan’s Labyrinth wins cinematography, too. That’s three out of three, no? I really can’t be arsed to go back and check.

John Knoll et al win for Pirates of the Casribbean. Yay! John Knoll rocks. I met him once, and he was a true gentleman. Which is a true feat considering the fact that I was wearing a Yoda mask at the time.

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Oh look, it’s Liechtenstein’s own Catherine Deneuve and Ken Watanabe, the Italian Stallion. I have a feeling they’re here to present something to do with foreigners. And sure enough, it’s a montage of best foreign language film Oscar winners: Babette’s Feast, The Barbarian Invasions, Amarcord, La Strada, The Nights of Cabiria, Rashomon, The Bicycle Thieves. Great films, great montage by Giuseppe Tornatore.

Best Film in a Foreign Language. I go into the kitchen to get an apple, it’s going to be Pan’s Labyrinth anyway.

I come back, and Guillermo Del Toro can shapeshift. Cool. Oh, shit. It’s someone else. The Lives of Others won? What the fuck? And the guy thanks Bavaria and Schwarzenegger. It’s truly surreal.

I am still in awe as Jennifer Hudson wins for Dreamgirls. That’s the surprise of the night so far. The fact that it wasn’t a surprise. Beyonce (can you handle this?) does her best to look happy for Hudson. I am not too familiar with the Knowles clan but I will go out on a limb and say that it’s her infamous father sitting next to her. I like his tash.

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Did you just spot Larry David? He was sitting right at the back. And here’s Jerry Seinfeld, the man with the most amount of cars in the entire world, “bitching” about the price of crap in cinemas. Anyway, An Inconvenient Truth wins, everyone looks sanctimonious, supercilious and smug. I yawn, and note that it’s five to six. I have to be at work in a few hours. I'm going to be extra cuddly today.

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The Academy manages the impossible by both honouring Ennio Morricone with a special Oscar, and denigrating him by making Celine Dion sing his song from Once Upon a Time in America. Morricone makes everyone feel awkward by speaking in his own language, Italian, and the shots of various people watching him are fucking hilarious. Then Clint Eastwood starts translating for him; it’s pretty fucking impressive even though he seems to translate every fifth word, and the whole thing reminds me of the scene in The Godfather, where Michael is talking to Appolonia’s father, with Carlo repeating everything Fabrizio says: “'Grega a Italiana' – 'Grega a Italiana.'” Ahh, good times.

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Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst! Spider-Man 3. Venom, baby, Venom! Anyway, Little Miss Sunshine wins for best original screenplay. Strange that it still hasn’t opened in Turkey. I don’t understand that: some films, we get like a week before it actually opens in the US, and some we have to wait for for years.

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Dear Lord in Heaven: it’s the songs again. As “The Dreams” scream and shout, I debate whether I should just fuck it and go to bed. Or even call in sick today. Hmmm, questions, questions. Anyway, best song goes to Melissa Etheridge: awesome, lesbian kiss. Go on, grab her boobs, too. No? OK, can’t have it all, I suppose.

Yes, I am, indeed, 12 years old.

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A bit about Little Miss Sunshine just reminds me of how much I love Steve Carrell. And I love lamp. Anyway, it’s followed by a montage about “America” edited by Michael Mann. It’s fun enough, and I can never get enough of Roy Batty proclaim “I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe.” Finally, an award. Quite an important one, too; editing, because, usually, whoever wins this wins best picture. Well, Thelma Schoonmaker wins for The Departed, so I guess this year will be different. Because Babel will win best picture. Which is a shame because it’s rubbish.

As always, the “In Memoriam” section is very moving.

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Philip Seymour Hoffmann is about to present Helen Mirren with her Oscar. Is he wearing the same shirt and jacket combo he wore last year? Anyway, Helen Mirren does win. Everyone, including Dame Helen, acts surprised (a joke so good, I’ve used it twice).

Reece Witherspoon and her hair extensions walk in to a boombastic version of Walk The Line. That was such a great film, with an incredible final shot. The Last King of Scotland is also a great film, and Forest Whitaker rightfully wins for his turn as Idi Amin.

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Coppola, Spielberg and Lucas. I love those three. Scorsese is about to join them on stage.

Yep. Got that one right.

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Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson are about to present the best picture award to Babel. Or The Departed? Or Little Miss Sunshine?

It is The Departed. Kind of a surprise. I wonder if it would have won best picture had they kept the dildo scene in.

Anyway, it’s over. Thank fuck for that.

PS. I know - that last sentence works on so many levels.