The Oscars has always been an overwhelmingly obnoxious event. While the Golden Globes has booze to make things interesting and the Emmys has the inferiority complexes of television actors to keep it honest, the Academy Awards is so steeped in its own importance that it could probably make its own fancy-ass tea (it tastes of ego and the tears of a bitter Leonardo DiCaprio). But heck, even the most elegant of circle jerks can be fun sometimes (trust me, I once had a sex dream about Larry Hagman, Elaine Paige and Bob Hope), which leaves last night's spectacular dud of a telecast with no excuse. Seriously, what a pile of garbage.
It started out promising enough. Host Ellen DeGeneres came on stage unintentionally dressed as a member of One Direction and delivered a monologue that, while not laugh out loud funny, was edgy enough to maybe kid us into thinking that she was taking a page from the Golden Globes and going a little darker with her material, but two hours of Samsung-sponsored selfie jokes later (and still with hours of the show left to go), we realized how false our hopes were. It was a night of few surprises and risks and — apart from the heartwarming win by Lupita Nyong'o — a big ol' waste of time that I would have gladly turned off in favor of watching clips of blackhead extractions on YouTube. That said, I kept watching because I was
required to by work so excited to see who the winners were from this years AMAZING batch of films. Also, I wanted to loudly heckle the real life Philomena.