I have elegant friends who consume Oscar movies as if defending a master’s thesis. One such pal recently turned down a lunch invitation because she had to get home to watch three films to stay on schedule for this Sunday’s 94th Academy Awards. Which movies, I asked? She pulled out a detailed phone index and said something about Denzel Washington.
Incredible! Inspiring! I wish I was that devoted to, uh … anything! To be honest, she should probably run the National Treasury!
Now, you’re scratching your head, going, huh, the Oscars, huh, is that right? Huh. Have I seen any of the movies? What even are they? Is Dune one? Huh. Well, I saw Dune.
Reader, 10 movies currently contend for Best Picture. I shall list them:
The Second Molar. Tree of Woe. Walter Smucker’s Incredible Toe Jam. Gratuitous Mirror Scare. Tasteful Midriff. The Third Ex-Wife’s Revenge on the Fourth Ex-Wife. I Think My Baby Hates Me? Historical Chin Prosthetics: The Musical. Oops, This Was Offensive. Dune.
Good news. You don’t need movies to enjoy the Oscars ritual. By “enjoy,” I mean get comfy with a box of wine and bag of Bugles (finger hats!), tweet gleefully when a presenter arrives wearing a shower curtain belted with Fruit Stripe gum, force yourself to stay up for the In Memoriam reel, then awake with a snort, gasping, as if resuscitated after a brief and dramatic drowning.
It’s no revelation that consumers flock to big, blowy-uppy movies over critical darlings because we only have so much…
