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sabI have the world's largest Hobbit-induced headache over here, and don't know whether to blame the fact that I haven't slept or the entire country of New Zealand. Still, go LotR.
Me, I love Billy Crystal, and this ridiculous industry notion that anyone other than him should host the awards is bogus. It's his stage, he built this house!
I also still love Owen Wilson and his ridiculous nose and his stoner cowboy vibe and his tux and the fact that he can show up on stage and make me not hate Ben Stiller quite as much.
And despite the fact that Lost in Translation was my favorite movie of the last five years, I'm still all about Sean Penn. Because while this was by no means his best role, and while Mystic River was a creepily indulgent piece of something with bad Boston accents in, Sean Penn is, as ever, the MAN, and deserved that goddamned standing ovation.
YAY Sofia Coppola for her screenplay win. I have a sort of megalomaniacal kindredship with her, or at least I like to pretend I do, and she's my Imaginary Best Friend the same way Markus is my imaginary boyfriend. Sometimes she and I drink coffee and smoke pot and gossip about the screenplays we're going to write. Also, we giggle about boys, but, naturally, in a very erudite and witty way, while wearing super hip clothes and driving around Silverlake with the top down.
Um. Charlize Theron's speech nearly made me cry, for reasons I'm not quite sure of but which almost assuredly had nothing to do with South Africa.
Adrien Brody is hotter than Methos.
In conclusion, for those who may have missed it the first time around, the one thing we know in Hollywood -- aside from the fact that there are no WMDs --
-- is to never get involved in a land war in Asia, and never go up against a New Zealander when Oscars are on the line.
Well, that and the fact that, for a second there, with Sean Astin so awestruck and teary, I felt the love. DON'T. TELL. ANYONE.
Me, I love Billy Crystal, and this ridiculous industry notion that anyone other than him should host the awards is bogus. It's his stage, he built this house!
I also still love Owen Wilson and his ridiculous nose and his stoner cowboy vibe and his tux and the fact that he can show up on stage and make me not hate Ben Stiller quite as much.
And despite the fact that Lost in Translation was my favorite movie of the last five years, I'm still all about Sean Penn. Because while this was by no means his best role, and while Mystic River was a creepily indulgent piece of something with bad Boston accents in, Sean Penn is, as ever, the MAN, and deserved that goddamned standing ovation.
YAY Sofia Coppola for her screenplay win. I have a sort of megalomaniacal kindredship with her, or at least I like to pretend I do, and she's my Imaginary Best Friend the same way Markus is my imaginary boyfriend. Sometimes she and I drink coffee and smoke pot and gossip about the screenplays we're going to write. Also, we giggle about boys, but, naturally, in a very erudite and witty way, while wearing super hip clothes and driving around Silverlake with the top down.
Um. Charlize Theron's speech nearly made me cry, for reasons I'm not quite sure of but which almost assuredly had nothing to do with South Africa.
Adrien Brody is hotter than Methos.
In conclusion, for those who may have missed it the first time around, the one thing we know in Hollywood -- aside from the fact that there are no WMDs --
-- is to never get involved in a land war in Asia, and never go up against a New Zealander when Oscars are on the line.
Well, that and the fact that, for a second there, with Sean Astin so awestruck and teary, I felt the love. DON'T. TELL. ANYONE.
