7:51pm
It's that time again! Who's the most popular dead person!?! We start off strongly with Ronald Reagan. Oooh, hard to beat that: he was an actor AND a president. Carrie Snodgrass gets a major snub with barely any applause whatsoever—a major blow to the Snodgrass lobby. Phil Gersh gets a round of applause, but mostly from the agents at Gersh. Too "inside." Jerry Orbach, late of Dirty Dancing and cancer, surprises everyone by stealing the lead. Baby's been put in the corner, and her name is Ronald Reagan! Oh but wait! Janet Leigh bitchslaps Jerry Orbach back into the grave as she snags the popularity vote for herself. We like Janet, but she can't hold onto this title for very long. She's like the Riddick Bowe of dead people. Janet makes short work of a few film composers, but you can't beat a man in a wheelchair. That's right, Christopher Reeve comes rolling right out of heaven to lay claim to most popular dead person. Not even Ossie Davis or Rodney Dangerfield can top him. It looks like he's got this one in the can, ladies and gentlemen. But wait, what's that sound? It's a thunderous ovation. AWWW SHIT! Marlon Brando in the HIZZOUSE! Christopher Reeve throws in the towel. It's over! Brando takes it! The curse is over! Boston wins!

7:55pm
Okay, back to reality, where they have P. Diddy introducing the song from Polar Express. Finally, a combination that makes sense. In any case, he calls Polar Express "hip" and "creative." Either he has a very dry sense of humor or he's lobbying to be in The Da Vinci Code with Tom Hanks.

7:56pm
Mr. Combs introduces the fifth and final song: a duet/shrieking duel between Beyoncé and Josh Groban. Finally! I'd been waiting all night for Mr. Groban's dull, ear-numbing voice. The singers share the stage with a giant locomotive, which I pray roars to life and runs over Mr. Groban. Sadly, he remains intact. I cry. And what's with Beyoncé's THIRD APPEARANCE? Couldn't they at least dig up Debbie Harry? Alannah Myles? One of the Weather Girls?

8:00pm
Prince presents the nominees for Best Original Song. We try to look the other way as he slowly undresses Helen Mirren with his eyes. The artist formerly known as the pin on Johnny Depp's collar announces the winner for Best Original Song to be that crappy dirge Salma Hayek loved so much. The winner, rather than thank the Academy, just sings his own song in Spanish once again. Shut up Nando, we heard it already.

8:02pm
My friend points out that Antonio Banderas and Melanie Griffith are just a bizarro, surgery-scarred version of Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn. How did I not notice that before.

Antonio Banderas could probably use a little more molasses in his hair. Where's Benicio Del Toro when you need him?

8:04pm
Sean Penn is out to present Best Actress, looking catastrophically exfoliated.

8:06pm
Meet Hilary Swank, a girl from a trailer park who had a dream. Despite the fact that she's wearing a set of K-mart drapes, with the highest neckline known to man (or transman), her breathless and heartfelt acceptance speech manages to be to be endearing. Chad Lowe makes his repeat appearance as most feminine husband ever. Despite an attempted cutoff from the Academy orchestra, Ms. Swank's inevitable Clint Eastwood blowjob ensues. Hell, she's done it ten times already, what's one more. As she's being ushered offstage, Ms. Swank shouts "WAIT!" Good god! Whom, pray tell, has she forgotten? Is there a dying relative in need of a mention? No. Hilary urgently thanks her publicist and then sashays off, retroactively destroying the entire dramatic impact of her speech. Yes, the Oscars are all about the art, people.

8:09pm
The announcer says "we'll be back with Gwyneth Paltrow." Holy shit, I better cancel my dinner plans.

8:13pm
Ms. Paltrow informs us sadly that because of time restrictions, she won't be able to introduce all the Best Foreign Film nominees in their respective languages. Instead, she'll use her native tongue, Poseur.

8:23pm
Mercifully non-tantastic Charlize Theron arrives onstage but unfortunately is unable to disentangle herself from the roll of chiffon she's stumbled into. She announces that she's presenting the award for Best Actor. Well, I guess it's that time of the night. Commence bracing for cloying Jamie Foxx speech...

8:25pm
In an admirable display of professionalism and dedication to his craft, Mr. Foxx puts out his own eyes just to get into character for his acceptance speech. Out, vile jelly!

8:26pm
Jamie Foxx wins the Oscar. Yay. Man, I hope he does some Ray Charles stuff. Maybe that "oooh, ahhh" thing. Sure enough, he does! Wow, that was really unexpected. Hey, he should thank his grandma too! In the audience, Salma Hayek clutches her chest: "That was almost as beautiful as that Motorcyle Diaries song! Frida." Mr. Foxx thanks his cute daughter, who smiles proudly. "Thanks daddy! Can you fix my teeth now?" Jamie finally gets back on script as he says, "My grandmother's no longer here." OH REALLY? I didn't know that from the fifty other times you mentioned her at award shows. Why don't you tell us about her influence? "She still talks to me in my dreams," Jamie says tearfully. Ah yes. That's the stuff. Well rehearsed! Well rehearsed indeed!

8:30pm
I can't help but note that at Mr. Foxx's mention of the "African-American Dream," Oprah Herself gives a black-power/mad-props fist. Sheeeit. If only Phylicia Rashad were here.

8:32pm
Julia Roberts strolls onto the stage, still apparently loving her life (and nursing too, vavavoom!). "Happy Birthday Marva!" she says at the outset of her presentation. Hey Marva, tell your friend Julia to shut up and read the nominations.

Posted by m_ruv on February 28, 2005 8:16 AM