Gay Cowboys Vely AngLee
Usually posses ride through L.A. in Hummers, and other modern day Pimpmobiles, their occupants brandishing a various assortment of small semi-automatic armaments ready to ‘cap the ass’ of any homie who gets in their way. But on the first Sunday in March a more powerful posse rode into town . . . sidesaddle. Gay cowboys from all over America gathered to pay homage to Brokeback Mountain – the raving odds on Best Picture favourite at the 2006 Academy Awards.
     It’s only reasonable to expect the Academy members to bend over forwards for one of their most powerful constituencies – there’s even more of them in the movie business than Scientologists – but they gave it to Crash. And in the process they really 'gave it' to the cowboys – no wonder they’re AngLee.
     But Ang Lee did become the first Asian to win a major Academy Award – and I like the sentiment. It’s time the Academy recognizes the enormous contribution Asian filmmakers and actors are making to the industry. Problem is they gave the Oscar to the wrong one. What does Lucy Liu have to do to get any recognition in this town? There’s not a man worth his salt who wouldn’t do everything Lucy Liu told him to do – and then beg for more. Now that’s direction!
     Once again, my red carpet invite was lost in the mail and I was out anyway on Oscars night so it was the VCR for me. Unlike most people born in the 1960s I am actually fully conversant with the operation of a VCR, so programming the thing to record when I’m not home is a breeze. Arithmetic is what forever fails me. There’s 24 categories, which means 40 seconds each for the presenters to introduce the category, the nominees, and the winner . . . Then the recipient has 60 seconds to get all teary eyed and thank everybody – and then forget either their spouse, agent, siblings and one or both of their parents. Now we’ll be generous and apportion 20 seconds for the play-off to the commercial break.
     So we’ve got 24 lots of  two minutes, that’s 48 minutes to hand out the awards – in the interests of equality we’ll give the same to commercial breaks, and throw in another hour for Jon Stewart’s gags, maybe a montage on Hollywood’s leading gay men and the ‘movie folks who died this year’ montage. And then a few gratuitous shots from the two isolation cameras constantly trained on Jack Nicholson and Steven Spielberg respectively. The second one came in handy, when the guy who won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Feature, heaped praise on his director and what did the director of ABC’s television broadcast do? Cut to a shot of Spielberg.
     So I’ve done the math, loaded up the VCR with a four hour tape for safety . . . and I missed Best Director and Best Picture.
     But I did get the start . . . and quite frankly the host’s opening monologue should always be the best part of the show. Jon Stewart was served up the usual ‘mixed reviews’ post Oscar. The Daily Show host is a smart and witty guy but the Oscars is the toughest MC gig in the world. Everybody in the theatre is completely and utterly self absorbed and the one’s who aren’t think they’re the best presenter in the room anyway. It is the toughest of tough crowds and the hardest gig since Kurt Waldheim hosted the Finkelstein bar mitzvah. 
     Most of Stewart’s gags were Hollywood backhanders, he got laughs in the right places but most of the auidience couldn't pick a Stewart backhand from Roger Federer's: “Hollywood is doing it tough, a lot of the women here tonight don’t even have enough material to cover their breasts . . . I can’t wait to see Oscar’s tribute to the montage.”
     And that is precisely the reason I ran out of tape! Montage after montage after montage. Every single one preceded by the announcement that “You won’t see that on DVD.” Get with the program Hollywood, the quality of 80% of your product is such that the choice for moviegoers is not: "Do we see it at the Cinema or on DVD?" It is: "DVD or not at all!" My advice, embrace DVD because the guy sitting at the back of the Cineplex on opening night with a Handycam sure as hell will.
     Now to the Awards. George Clooney was first up for Best Supporting Actor. I like George, he smiles a lot, he is gracious, he has wit . . . and always spoils it by opening his mouth. And when he’s in front of a crowd like this, it’s not his words coming out it's Hollywood’s. Why he needed to suck up to the Academy and tell it how great its product is and how it leads the way and is still the world’s leading agent for social change is beyond me. George, the voting is over, you already won, no need to kiss ass in the acceptance speech.
     After George came a few other awards, and then a montage, a commercial break, a reminder of how important Hollywood really is – what it did to ensure Israel’s swift victory in the Six Day War and how it supports the notion of Palestinian self-determination.
     Then came Best Supporting Actress. The Chinese never fail to surprise, Ang Lee knows more about gay cowboys than any one else and my great Chinese friend Selwyn Chong is an encyclopedia of country music – and Johnny Cash. Selwyn assured me that not only is, the winner, Reese Witherspoon more attractive than June Carter Cash, she’s a much better singer. So did she really nail that role? Anyway, I did like her acceptance speech, it wasn’t memorable but she didn’t cry like a baby and it bristled with gratitude and humility – the second of those traits will need to be jettisoned if she wants a future in tinsel town.
     More shtick, more back slapping, more montages. Best Original Song. Three nominees, two things going for them and they both belonged to Dolly Parton. Quite frankly had the producers of Walk The Line got tough and had Johnny Cash do a cover version of Australian band, T.I.S.M’s “(He’ll never be an) Ol’ Man River” it would have been a shoe-in for this Osacar. If you don’t get it Google the lyrics of that song and then you will.
     Instead Best Song went to the hitherto unknown (by everyone my age or older) Three 6 Mafia for their moving ballad “It’s Hard Out Here For A Pimp” from the memorable motion picture Hustle and Flow a guaranteed $500,000 question on Who Wants to be a Millionaire within the next two years. Three 6 are from Memphis, conclusive proof that the place has really gone downhill since Elvis died.
     And the title of their song? It’s Hard Out Here For A Pimp – I’ve been asking around town and the consensus is it’s a lot harder out there for a hooker. So take your gold statues, get in your Hummer, drive back to Memphis and start showing your bitches some more respect.