Oscar Rant

It wasn’t that long ago when I cared about the Oscars. Not just cared… but really celebrated. Every single award and acceptance speech. Because I value the score and the editing just as much as I appreciate the acting. Because I valued the chance for someone to get up there and say thank you.

The past three years… not so much. I don’t know. I don’t even go to the movies like I used to. I still value the art (especially editing), but… these awards shows… there are so many of them. They don’t really matter. And it isn’t really about the art anyway. Especially when you tune in the day after and all people want to talk about is what everyone wore.

But I watched that bit this morning over my morning eggs. I watched with a slight amount of voyeuristic fancy until my stomach soured as Teri Hatcher dissed some outfit while wearing $4million worth of diamonds that decorated Kate Winslet only the night before. Just after the news that unemployment is skyrocketing and we still can’t resolve whether we want to pay the government or insurance companies for the privilege to be healthy. And all we want to do is sit and talk about Sara Jessica Parker’s hairspray.

Okay… maybe I’m getting too obnoxious here. Hollywood has always been a fantasy. Never quite getting reality. And we’ve always forgiven it. Because we want it to be that. I mean… the penultimate of the Hollywood dream factory was the 1930’s. They were churning out thousands of movies each year during the Great Depression, with actresses dressed to the nines in silks and crazy glistening jewels, carrying around wads of cash like it was ordinary to have $1000 in your pocket. Even in 1939.

Hollywood lets us forget the fact so many people are out of work. That this country wants to tear itself apart over the semantics of socialism. It lets us cheer for a film about the wars in the Middle East and not have to really care about the fact it’s a real story where real people die EACH and EVERY day. Hollywood lets us remember it enough to feel good about ourselves even if our awareness is sugar coated with shiny sparkly diamonds.

I suppose I’m just being a grump. I have my own fantasies to escape my daily stresses. I just… I don’t know. Something this time around makes it seem so tacky and less a fantasy, but more a delusion.