The best news of the night was, of course, Hilary. When she won, I leapt up off of the couch and jumped around in circles all over the room. I honestly didn't think she was going to win. The evening had been such a complete Annette Bening lovefest so far. I'm glad everyone paid attention to her. She was about to give birth, for God's sake, and her husband was being honored so nicely, and it was an all-around A+ evening for her. Annette Bening was incredible in American Beauty. I truly thought she deserved to win. Until Saturday, that is, when I saw Boys Don't Cry and was completely and totally blown away by Hilary Swank's performance. (But more on that later.) Totally random and disorganized critique of 2000 Oscars ceremony to follow: Beginning Segment: Billy Crystal morphing into the classic movies was really clever and fun. Of course, I loved his medley. I love his medley every year. I miss it terribly when he doesn't host. I used to watch and re-watch the old ones. Remember when he sang about The Prince of Tides to the tune of "Don't Rain on My Parade" and said, "Seven nominations on the shelf -- did this film direct itself!?" and the audience interrupted him with a long moment of applause for Barbra? Or his song about The Crying Game: "Those eyes, those thighs, SURPRISE! It's The Crying Game." I love him, because to me he is, now and forevermore, Harry Burns. In my mind, after the show, he and Sally go out to celebrate and she orders everything on the side. Music: I was glad that Robin Williams got to say fart and bitch. I am a child, I realize this. I like Robin Williams. I loved South Park. So sue me. Gena, my fellow South Park lover (hearing her husband quote this film in his thick Italian accent is almost as funny as the film itself) called me after the award went to Phil Collins and said one word: "Robbed!" and hung up. As sick as I've grown of Sarah McLachlan over the past year, I was reminded last night by her beautiful voice why I once loved her very much. Her delivery of that lovely little song was quite touching, and it made me remember how much I adored Toy Story 2. I liked Ray Charles. I was troubled by the exposed bare ribs of Faith Hill and went off on the topic of blasphemy for several minutes after she attempted to sing "Over the Rainbow." I was puzzled by the appearance of Garth Brooks but filled with gratitude that he didn't show up as Chris Gaines. Montages: I was, I'll admit, rather pleased by all of the montages. I love montages. They remind me why I love movies. "Best" (ahem) Supporting Actor: Okay, I feel the need to rant for a minute. It's early Monday morning, and I'm tired after a late night at our Oscar party. Deep breath ... here goes! Maybe I have been blind to the talent of Michael Caine. Or maybe I'm too young to fully appreciate him. Or maybe I'm just an idiot. But I was baffled by the Michael Caine adoration going on last night. First, during the aforementioned medley, instead of giving a funny summary of the plot and mentioning several of the characters like he always does for every movie, Billy Crystal sang about Caine. Only. In fact, he serenaded the man. That was the first moment of blatant Caine worshipping. The songs-from-movies-past section featured Dionne Warwick warbling hoarsely some song from a Michael Caine movie that was made before I was born, so I am excusing myself for not knowing what in the hell it was about. Was Alfie his character or the damn dog? Who knows? More importantly, who cares? Then, of course, he won the Oscar. He stole it from Haley Joel Osment, who was the single, solitary reason millions of people went to see The Sixth Sense millions of times, and also from my fiancé, Jude Law. I was unhappy, having found The Cider House Rules a sweet but sometimes pukey movie, and having found Caine's performance not really anything special. But maybe that's just me. The crowd of Hollywood folks who gave the man a standing ovation (oh yeah, and who also voted for him) apparently felt differently about old Dr. Larch. In a master move of audience manipulation, Mr. Caine puckered up and smooched the bums of his fellow nominees, so we at home who thought one of them should have won instead could experience a moment of sentimental solidarity with Mr. Caine, therefore forgiving him for stealing the award from his fellow, more deserving nominees. It was a brilliant speech. I forgave him. I loved him. I suddenly thought he was a dear, kind old gentleman who -- by God! -- deserved that Oscar. Then I thought about Haley crying into his pillow after the ceremony and I was once again enraged and refused to bow with the rest of the world to the altar of Michael Fucking Caine. Jude, why didn't you come home last night? Haley, I love you. Have I mentioned that Hilary won? Oh yeah, I think I did. "Best" (gag! choke!) Supporting Actress: I was quite cranky when Chloe Sevigny lost, and I became even crankier when I saw Angelina's hair and heard her gush -- once again -- incestuously about her beloved brother. Don't get me wrong, I love my brothers quite a lot. But I don't think that given the chance to speak in front of one billion people worldwide, I would proclaim that I was "so in love with" one of them. But that's just me. Gross. I loathe her. I can't help it. No one should have so thin a body and so thick a pair of lips and bosoms. Chloe was remarkable. So, in fact, was Ms. Collette. Did any of you not feel a little bit misty whenever she said to her son, "Look at my face"? Or not sob out loud during the scene in the car about the grandmother? Angelina, my arse. I realize I am being irrational about Ms. Jolie and speaking as a rather uninformed judge, considering that I didn't even see her movie, but I feel quite confident in my distaste for her anyway. So there. Best Actor: Kevin Spacey can win any award over any actor on any night of the year and I will be perfectly fine with that. Best Actress: Oh, let's just get back to Hilary. That was, far and away, the best part of the show for me. I cried for her and I cried for Brandon Teena and I cried for Chad Lowe, who was crying, too. I cried for the way I felt when I walked out of the theater on Saturday afternoon. I cried because I realized that if there is any point to the Oscars other than having the chance to look at pretty dresses, it is a moment like this, when someone is recognized by her peers for a breathtaking performance in a powerful and brilliant film they might not have otherwise seen, especially when the film is based on a true story of which so many people might never have even heard. Now they have, and the names of everyone involved in telling that story were read on a stage in front of a billion people, so hopefully they will have the chance to do it again. Hilary Swank had the courage and the talent to play Brandon, and her peers told her that out of all of the great performances of the past year, hers was the very, very best. Now everyone knows the name of Brandon Teena. Now everyone might remember him. If last night's Academy Awards show accomplished nothing else, it accomplished that, and for that, I am grateful and glad. journal archive join the notify list. go. now. go. © Copyright 2000 By Secret and Divine Signs