Academy Award Commentary

I agreed to watch the Academy Awards last night just so I could get my Jon Stewart fix. I miss him, just as my son misses the Wiggles. But we all have to make our sacrifices. I don’t get out to the movies much these days, and the only nominated movies I saw were Crash (which I loved) and Walk the Line (which was okay), so I can’t really say much of substance. That’s never stopped me before, though. And I really would like to comment on the Best Song category.

First of all, where were Dolly’s Parton’s interpretive dancers? Everyone else got them. You know, I was startled to see Dolly. She looks . . . unnatural. She looks like a walking Barbie Doll, and I’ve heard a woman can’t really live with Barbie Doll proportions, so I was afraid she was going to die on stage. Thank goodness she didn’t. I’m reminded of the time when I was six or seven and I asked my dad what he wanted for his birthday. He said he wanted a Dolly Parton doll. I took him seriously and set to work making one out of paper, wadded up tissues, thread, and modeling clay. My father laughed until he cried when he saw it. Now that I look back on it, I realize I didn’t give her enough of a “wasp waist.” But thanks to the modeling clay, at least I got the boobs right.

But I digress. The second song, the one from Crash . . . um . . . I didn’t even hear a song because I was too busy picking my jaw up from the floor and trying to stop the spasms of nausea when the interpretive dancers reenacted the BIG GROPE in slow motion. The only thing worse than seeing it reenacted was that it was done in slow-mo and it looked as if the gropee were giving birth to a huge hairy arm. There’s art, and then there’s just enough already.

What do I say about “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp”? I have never felt older than when I was watching that performance. I really have to get out of the house more. I just couldn’t figure out if I was supposed to think it was kind of funny or if I was supposed to feel deep empathy for pimps. The interpretive dancers confused me all the more. Maybe if I’d seen the movie I wouldn’t have been so clueless. I didn’t want to appear too out of touch with reality, so I said to my husband, “Hey, you know, I bet in the real version of the song, she doesn’t say witches.”

Because, you know, I’m down with it.