If one could sum up the 2015 Oscars in a single phrase, it would have to be: blue-eyed bores. The eerie fact that about 90% of the people who took the stage at the Dolby Theater last night had blue eyes is either a testament to the whiteness of the clientele or some sort of typical illuminati conspiracy. The disinterested, drugged out looks of those in attendance could most likely only be matched by those watching the spectacle from the comfort of their own home.
Hosted, for the first time, by the extremely creepy Neil Patrick Harris (see: Gone Girl), there seemed an unusual air about the show that screamed, “Ah Jesus, we gotta do this again?” Perhaps the pall cast over the event by Plastic Jesus’ latest artistic statement, paired with the recent death of Harris Wittels, had something to do with the grim nature of the ceremony. Even more catered to the geriatric set than usual, the only riveting performance came from, of all people, The Lonely Island with Tegan and Sara as they performed “Everything Is Awesome” from The Lego Movie. Though some will try to tell you that Lady Gaga delivered “a spectacular performance” as well, it was marred by her wig and general lack of showmanship. Yeah she has the voice, but Julie Andrews in a nun costume prancing around would still be more entertaining.
As for the award winners themselves, The Grand Budapest Hotel received most of the consolation awards, like Best Costuming, Best Makeup and Best Original Score. But surely, Wes Anderson remains the darling of “indie enthusiasts” everywhere. Birdman, on the other hand, picked up the awards that really mattered, chiefly Best Director, Best Original Screenplay and Best Picture. Surprise winners of the night were, by far, Eddie Redmayne for The Theory of Everything (proving that, let’s be honest, you have to play a physically defective role to win) and The Imitation Game for Best Adapted Screenplay. In both cases, the winners felt the need to get uncomfortably emotional about Stephen Hawking and Alan Turing, respectively.
Julianne Moore, too, felt compelled to get sentimental about Alzheimer’s after winning Best Actress for her role in Still Alice. And while talking about film as a means to give those without one a voice, it all seemed a little too trite to fully stomach. Luckily, things got shaken up later on in the night with Alejandro González Iñárritu’s acceptance speech in which he spoke about “that little prick called ego,” undoubtedly ruffling some of Hollywood’s collective feathers.
Even the former Mr. Ciccone, Sean Penn, was able to spice up the evening as it came to a close upon announcing Birdman as the winner of Best Picture and demanding of González Iñárritu, “Who gave this son of a bitch a green card?” Of course, this offended many liberal white apologists. And speaking of white apology, Selma was thrown one bone by winning for Best Original Song (thanks, in large part, to John Legend). And so went another relatively uneventful year at the Oscars. Someone dig up Billy Crystal to host next year so that we might at least pretend we’ve returned to the Academy Awards’ better years.