Hey everybody, it's Oscar time! Otherwise known as the most wonderful night of the year, when even those of us who aren't foot fetishists become transfixed by something called ShoeCam, and everyone claps for a montage of dead people!
Who will be the first to face Giuliana Rancic's red carpet clavicle of destruction? Who will decide to wear unfortunately placed flower appliques? Will James Franco and Anne Hathaway -- the first non-comedians to host the show since Paul Hogan (1986, and yes, that really happened) -- bring some much-needed life back into the proceedings, or will we be forced to cut off our own arms to free ourselves from the crushing ennui? So many questions! So few original noses!
If you've never read one of my live blogs before, here's what you can expect:
- Stream-of-consciousness reactions to, judgments of, and questionable puns and/or pop culture references in relation to anything that appears onscreen, including but not limited to celebrities' clothing, hair/makeup, obscene levels of tooth-whitening and/or clavicle protrusion (see above paragraph), and general demeanor
- Completely biased opinions about certain movies and actors
- Increasingly drunken come-ons to anyone I find remotely attractive
- Basic information about who wins what, usually buried within one of the above
In other words, if you're looking for an easy-to-follow list of winners, you're going to have to wade through some Mark Ruffalo love letters, Charlie Sheen jokes (since he is currently vacationing with porn stars and getting "high on life" in between making ill-advised phone calls to live radio shows, I suspect that Mr. Sheen will not be joining us this evening, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't be here in spirit), and ALL CAPS EXCLAMATIONS ABOUT HELENA BONHAM CARTER'S SHOE CHOICE to get there. I also may or may not refer to likely Best Actor victor Colin Firth as "Mr. Darcy." But I promise it'll be fun.
Before we start, you might want to refresh your memory as to the nominees... as the evening progresses, I tend to pay less attention to detail, and I don't want you to get lost.
I'll start with E!'s red carpet coverage at 6 pm EST and switch to the main show at 8:30. Fill up your wine glasses and straighten your cravats, because it's going to be a long night.
And The King's Speech wins for Best Picture! I was right! Which just goes to show, you do not have to watch the Oscars to confidently live blog them. Thanks for being predictable, Academy voters. And thanks for being a terrible company with a monopoly on the entire city, TimeWarner! They may take our Firth, but they will never take our freedom!
Here's a fun fact to distract you from the fact that you're reading a live blog by someone not actually watching the show: Colin Firth is the only Best Actor nominee this year whose name does NOT begin with a J!
Sorry, guys. Now I have to depend on Twitter to tell me what's happening. Apparently people cried and felt Colin Firth was very charming. One friend, however, urged him to "Sp-sp-sp-sp-spit it out!" I have no basis for forming my own opinion, but from experience I am going to go with "Distinguished and crumpet-like."
So here's what happens: Natalie finishes her speech and waddles off. Then Colin Firth wins for The King's Speech, and says something humble and eloquent and then thanks his beautiful wife and makes all of the Bridget Joneses of the world get sadfaces. Then The King's Speech wins Best Picture. In between they probably trot out some person we all thought was already dead, like Mickey Rooney, to kill some time doing soft shoe in honor of key grips.
The cable is out, so I'm just going to make this up. My mom, however, just yelled at the poor TimeWarner operator, "My daughter is here live-blogging for the Huffington Post!" Like she cares. GOD, MOM.
Natalie Portman! It looked like she was taking her baby-daddy onstage, but he just needed to help her pregnant ass get up there.
Aw, Annette looks so dazed. I wish she had won.
And guess what? My cable just went out! It agrees!
So. Annette Bening's hair is a vast improvement over The Nick Nolte mugshot 'do she sported at the Golden Globes. But her dress is like a Star Trek prism.
Tom Hooper for The King's Speech, in a sort-of upset over David Fincher. I guess this means TKS is a shoo-in for Best Picture, huh? If it means more Firth, I ain't mad at it.
(I know that made no sense. I'm sorry; I usually go to bed at 10.)
No, Celine Dion. NO. You are a bajillionaire. Stop assaulting my ears during the sacred ritual that is the Death-o-Meter! I can only hope the applause drowns her out.
But... NO ONE is clapping. WTF? This makes a mockery of the Death-o-Meter, sirs. A mockery.
Randy Newman! Jennifer Hudson is rocking her orange halter dress... but where's the rest of her?
More original songs. Florence from Florence and the Machine wails unintelligibly (but beautifully) for a few minutes. And then GOOPY comes out to twang some country song about healing either your "hurt" or your "heart," or maybe both. Where's Cee-Lo?
The Social Network. I was trying to think of a witty line about editing, but then the commercials started and Jennie Garth* started talking about body wash and I got distracted. To bring this full circle, I blame my ADD on Facebook.
*This could really confuse people just skimming the live blog. "Best Editing goes to... Kelly Taylor from 90210? I didn't even know she worked in film!"
Robert Downey, Jr. and Jude Law present the award for visual effects while sniping at each other and wearing white ties. We're running long? You don't say.
Oh, Inception wins.
Someday, all awards shows will be hosted by the talking ghost heads of dead comedians. That, or Snooki and a hand puppet.
Yay, Billy Crystal is here! Is he pinch-hitting for Franco? I would be proud to partake of his pecan pie. Wait. I didn't mean that, like, sexually.
But I don't want to see a peek at the very first televised Oscars! I know they're on TV. I'm watching them right now.
Inside Job, the Wall Street movie that did not star Shia LaBoeuf!
Auto-tuning Harry Potter, Toy Story 3, The Social Network, and Twilight is inspired. The only thing missing? Antoine Dodson.
God of Love. The recipient has a resplendent Jew-fro. Everybody wins!
Strangers No More, which is about immigrant and refugee children. Sparkly, sparkly Amy Adams and Jake Gyllenhaal talk a lot about the importance of shorts, making a point to decry the dreaded skort.
This Tangled ballad is not going to win, so can we cue the jazz Muzak? I would prefer it to this saccharine... can I curse? I never really asked my editor. Anyway, know that I would refer to the Mandy Moore performance with a scatological reference.
When I'm not attempting rapid-fire commentary on celebrities' outfits and Ryan Seacrest's gumline here on HuffPo, I can be found on my blog, The Sassy Curmudgeon. You can also become a fan on Facebook, if you're into that kind of thing.
Follow Una LaMarche on Twitter: www.twitter.com/sassycurmudgeon