So, it’s awards season again (isn’t it always?) and I feel like my head is caving in. As a self-proclaimed pop culture addict, I pride myself on keeping up with everything from good movies to bad television to mediocre pop songs.
I watch every episode of “Kim, Kourtney and Khloe Text a Lot in Between Whining About Being Famous For Having a Clothing Store in Calabasas,” not because I enjoy watching the train wreck that is Kim Kar-trash-ian, but to make sure I’m a well-rounded and up-to-date enthusiast of the TV and movie persuasion. Some might even call me a sort of idiot savant (and by some, I mean me. And by idiot, I mean idiot).
It’s no lie when I say I watch every show on TV (except “The Vampire Diaries,” because I refuse to be sucked into the obsession those stupid “Twilight” movies have created. I’ll hand it to Ian Somerhalder for being super hot, but he’ll always be Boone to me. Shout out to my Losties).
Despite the fact that The Academy considers movies throughout the entire year, it never fails that most (if not all) nominees are released within the last few months of the year, rendering it nearly impossible for any right-minded individual to see everything nominated before they disappear from movie theaters. Every year I promise myself to at least watch the nominees for Best Picture (because who honestly cares about the Sound Editing category?), but I always fail.
Usually the Oscars are hosted by a seasoned comedian who knows how to push the envelope (no pun intended … or pun fully intended, you choose) and make just enough fun of George Clooney so they can pan camera four to him grinning and taking it like a champ, but not so much of Dame Judi Dench. This keeps everyone giggling mildly, but not too heavily or offending anyone because, unlike the Golden Globes, there isn’t any free alcohol.
I think The Academy learned its lesson when the spiraling-out-of-control performances of Anne Hathaway and James Franco gave hosting a shot in 2010. I’m not entirely sure why they chose to give that a try, seeing as the entire ceremony resembled an accident I saw Interstate-8 on my way home from Effin’s last night. It was so terribly, horribly awful that I couldn’t pull my eyes away (especially when Franco came out dressed like a lady … oye).
Maybe this year it should stick with what it knows. Because Eddie Murphy dropped out of the job this year, Billy Crystal will be hosting for the 9th time since 1990. It seems this is the only substantial job he can hold onto these days. I don’t remember him being in anything since playing Miracle Max in “The Princess Bride.” But really, how could you ever bounce back and outdo that role? You can’t. So, it’s entirely possible this year won’t be as painful as the past, but I digress.
I enjoy the Academy Awards. I really do. People seem to take it very seriously. This is when the big gowns come out and A-through-C listers make sure they leave their moms at home (moms get the Golden Globes. Models, boyfriends and the occasional non-famous spouse get the Oscars). I love watching celebs trip over their too-tall shoes, forget their speeches and thank every person they’ve ever met in their lives, then get played off the stage by the “you’re-taking-too-much-damn-time-and-the-show-is-going-to-run-half-an-hour-past-time-like-it-does-every-year” music they have queued up and ready every time an award is handed out.
It’s a very prestigious event though. Sure you could have won the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actress, but you’re nothing until you’ve won the Oscar for it. In case you didn’t know (or in case you’re not as embarrassingly obsessed with everything that is celebrities and sparkly designer gowns as me), the Hollywood Foreign Press Association decides upon the Golden Globes and covers everything from TV to movies, thus bringing in a much larger (and more hilariously drunk) crowd of celebs ranging from the likes of Angelina Jolie to those nerds from “The Big Bang Theory.” But not only do the Golden Globes draw a larger crowd, they also seem much more lax and diverse. After all, the event is at a hotel that serves dinner, fills everyone up with free drinks and lets Ricky Gervais act like a total a–hole to any and everyone he lays eyes on. The Academy Awards, on the other hand, are much fancier.
Awards are given out by The Academy, which could very well be The Illuminati for all we know (shout out to Jay-Z and Rihanna), and it’s all fun and fine until they show that super sad “in remembrance” montage that always makes me cry when set to songs like Sarah McLachlan’s “I Will Remember You,” which just makes me think of all those sad dogs. Think of it this way: The Golden Globes are like Hollywood’s homecoming dance while The Academy Awards are prom. Both are fun and exciting events, but you could totally get away with skipping out on the GG early. Miss the Oscars and you’re shunned from Hollywood forever. You can’t sit with the cool kids ever again.
So, even though the Kardashians are never nominated (at either award show, if you can believe it), I still do what I can to cover my ass to make sure I’m a know-it-all when the awards are announced. And it almost never fails that awards season sneaks up on me and not only are there ten Best Picture nominees, but everything I have seen gets snubbed to the point I have no desire to see the other eight nominations.
The best performances, in my opinion, are almost always overlooked and Best Picture always goes to some movie that everyone loved and I could not have cared less about (i.e. “Slumdog Millionaire,” “No Country for Old Men” and “The Departed”). I’ll go ahead and make the call that “The Artist” will sweep this year’s awards (including the coveted Best Picture category). And even then I’ll still have absolutely no desire to see it.
But for now, count me in for Feb. 26. I’ll be sitting at home with my new TV and printout, guess-it-yourself ballot while yelling at actresses for their horrible dress choices and rolling my eyes so many times they may retreat to the back of my skull. Some people may call me crazy, some people may tell me to pick up a book and read something. But I say nay, this is my Super Bowl.
— Hayley Rafner is a media studies junior.