Commentary: March 1, 2005
I had ten bucks in the office pool, Desperate Housewives was postponedÉ plus, Orlando Bloom was presenting, so I turned on the TV at 3:30pm for the red carpet stuff at the Oscars. Since they shipped Joan Rivers and daughter to the TV Guide Channel, the red carpet just ain't the same Ð no one can lie to a celeb's face, and tell her the crap of a dress she's wearing is fabulous like Rivers can.
Chris Rock nailed it when he said, "Welcome to the 77th Annual Academy Awards Show, and the LAST Oscars ever". I so wish that were true because the Oscars has become nothing but an Aftershow for the Red Carpet Cat Walk. Thirty minutes into the actual awards and three bites into my Carl's Junior low-carb burger I decided: "Hell, I'm gonna take a 3 hour nap and look up the results online."
Screw the Oscars, I'd rather ABC kept to its usual schedule and shown Desperate Housewives. Overly competitive suburban homemakers who swipe their kindergartners' Ritalin in order to have the stamina to finish the icing on the cookies for a Sunday Bake Sale Ð now that's a show I can relate to. Watching boneless, over-tanned, overpaid smuts draped over the arms of the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio or Orlando Bloom? I don't need that kind of punishment. So, okay, Gisele looked preggo Ð didn't know Christian Dior had a maternity line; and Orlando didn't show up with a date, but you KNOW he's got SOMEONE waiting to drape herself over him SOMEWHERE.
I was disappointed with the no-shows. An Oscars without Michael Douglas or Catherine Zeta-Jones, one devoid of Tom Cruise or Nicole Kidman, is NO Oscars to me. Halle Berry, Drew Barrymore, and Salma Hayek can't draw the ratings that a paired Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston could. The Oscars aren't as exciting without a three-movie epic sweeping half the categories while half a dozen hobbits kiss in the audience.
Penelope Cruz without a hunky Hollywood hot shot as her date? Boring. Roger Ebert asking who designed Clint Eastwood's Irish-green bow Ð STUPID. His belly hiding the uber-tight-shape-your-nipples Guy Laroche wrap on Hillary Swank? Shame on him!
Now, back to important stuff: Fashion Foul-Ups. We won't discuss the men Ð what's the point? They all look the same : funeral-black over white with some sort of thing that acted as a tie or a bow -- a big yawn -- except for Johnny Depp who wore knee-weakening blue. To answer an online inquiry regarding whether Mr. Depp was 'dishy', I'd have to say, oh yeah, he dished it up all right last night. Orlando Bloom? Who cares what he wore? I was too busy watching him sashay with his signature hands-in-the-pocket-I'm-so-not-use-to-this-Hollywood-scene-cuz-I'm-a-serious-actor-look on his face. SWOON-festÉ Achem. Fine, he sported a black one-button peak lapel tuxedo with a formal vest. I'm not sure what a peak lapel is, or why it only has one button Ð probably for convenience - but I shall find out for the sake of journalism and report back sometime. Kirsten Dunst sashayed right behind Mr. Bloom in a black lace, sleeveless, very seductive Chanel on the arm of her (snicker) brother Ð like it wasn't obvious she 'pretended' NOT to notice Orlando in front of her. Wench.
Renee Zellwegger, appearing unusually uncomfortable and famished, forgot to pay her tanning company - again. Never saw anybody so pale who still had a pulse. She should have been the Phantom in the Phantom of the Opera singing beside Beyonce Ð that would have been more entertaining. Come to think of it, Mike Meyers should FIRE his tanning person and recommend him to Renee. I miss his Canadian pale. Or maybe Renee and Mike could negotiate and get their skin tones to meet somewhere in the middle? Natalie Portman showed up possessed by the spirit of Scarlet O'Hara wearing a piece of dusty grey Lanvin curtain (stolen from J.K. Rowling's castle) she called a dress. Too bad Julie Andrews doesn't sing anymore; Natalie could have completed her ensemble by marching around to the tune of "Do-Re-Mi".
And why is Sean Combs 'Sean Combs' at the Oscars, and 'P. Diddy' at the Grammy's? Speaking of Grammy's, why are Usher and Jay Z 'Hot Phat Dawgs' at the Grammy's, but look like underpaid gigolo waiters at the Oscars? Why didn't Robin Williams' PEEPS tell him his shirt accidentally fell into Pink's stash of neon dye? And why didn't anyone have the guts to go up to Oprah and ask the ONE question on everyone's mind?
"Oprah! When will you have your own money minted?"
-- NFR Commentator, O. Bunion
