Shrinking Film Critic Archive for February, 2007
Eddie Murphy wuz robbed
I mean, I’ve always loved Alan Arkin, but his performance in Little Miss Sunshine was pretty much what we’ve come to expect of him, his patented, deadpan codger. Whereas Murphy tried something wholly new in his career, and it was quite sensational, not only for being unexpected.
Meanwhile, Peter O’Toole’s badly lifted face seemed to fall, as if realizing this was his last chance at an Oscar. But for Forest Whitaker, this truly was a role of a lifetime, probably the greatest showcase of his talents any movie will offer him. I’m glad (and rather surprised) the Academy didn’t just go for the sentimental vote (as I think they did in Arkin’s case).
Monday-morning quarterbacking on Oscars
I especially enjoyed when Pilobolus formed itself into Ellen DeGeneres’ crimson velour tracksuit.
Other trenchant observations:
Helen Mirren is sexier at any age than any woman with a facelift.
Jack Nicholson is starting to look like Marlon Brando in Apocalypse Now.
The actresses all seemed to have strangely symmetrical, erect nipples.
Big attempt to make the Oscars “relevant” to “today” by name-dropping YouTube, MySpace, other Internet buzzwords.
Stop giving child actors “cute” things to say.
Loved seeing Nicole Kidman and Gwyneth Paltrow in a Japanese-hair-straightening-technique smackdown.
Jennifer Hudson, for all the time she had to prepare for this night (if not her whole life), gave a less than stirring speech.
Jerry Seinfeld used his time onstage to audition for next year’s host.
Celine Dion’s lips pursed up at the end of her song into something out of a horror movie, like an upward-migrated vagina dentata.
What Ennio Morricone was really saying ….
“That Celine Dion, she scares me, my balls just retracted into my body”