Veritas without and with Vino – Semper

Every Oscar night I am excited. I love the dresses, the handsome men and the beautiful ladies.

I’ve loved Oscar night since my children were old enough to watch with me. We began when Ne’ was two, and we had a television. Excited with dinner plates on our laps and suitable drinks – wine for me – we applauded our favourite movie stars, their dresses, and the handsome lads, and we went crazy when they chose the wrong winner. We had an animated long night with the Oscars and celebrated with more gusto than the oscar community. The raucous Africans, us, went nuts in Kwa Zulu Natal, when Denzel won an Oscar, in 2002.

“I told my family that if I won, I am coming home and we would celebrate. I am going home to celebrate” I quote from memory.

By the time we got to Denzel, I was already filled up on wine. I phoned Madam President of the First Wive’s Club and raved and danced about the room with glee.

I was excited mostly because an African American won an Oscar.

I rejoice in all Denzel Washington’s movies, but that night was bittersweet. They gave Sydney Poitiere his Oscar on the same night. A tad late! And then they gave it to Denzel for Training Day. What a slap in the face to his fans and the African Americans, but as usual, Denzel took it on the chin. But he did go home. Didn’t eat with the heathens. “Good man, Denzel Washington,” I yelled, raising my glass.

Having said that, I hate the Oscars for not ever acknowledging Tom Cruise. Magnolia, 1999, for instance. Phillip Seymour Hoffman co-stars (He sits with Heath Ledger watching the Oscars from a distance). Brilliant film with a surprising polarity.

Have I just aged? Or is the red carpet dressed with a see-through trinity of tiny egos learning to grow more tasteless by the hour. Bless their hearts. Their mommies are proud. Their friends want to be them, but granny over here is like … say what?

What kind of a question is that? Did you do no research? Are you being offensive on purpose?

Hugh Grant was elegantly astonished by the dipsy girl who did either not know her subject or was primed to humiliate him? I don’t know who won the joust. Instead of dropping the mike, Grant did not know what to do with it.He was clearly irritated. One doesn’t see him drop it into a vase. “Tempting… but, no.” Who dissed who, I wonder? Or was it just a teenage blunder that irritated Hugh Grant because she, said teenager, couldn’t run with the tango. Stiff as a board, lacking in comeback lines, so necessary for the tango.

Austin Powers was expected to arrive with a bit of candy? Really? You could not ask: “Who did you bring to the Oscars tonight?” All she did there was reduce every woman in the world to chocolate or fruit gums. Herself included. You can hardly think much else of her. But, she is young, and mistakes are made then, so, hoping for the best. A library with paper books.

And when Nicole Kidman appears with one of the more enthusiastic muppet fans (I assume) she has a shape-shift, nanosecond, akin to the scenes from The Devil’s Advocate. Now she’s beautiful, now she’s positively evil in a micro minute on the world stage. Did they do that on purpose? She looked as though she had consumed a brew made by witches. Perhaps she was just excited to be there, and… able to hide her beauty so successfully. Great actress.

Pedro Pascal and Austin Butler are the new faces to watch out for. Neither are Benicio Del Toro or Rami Malek, but I am looking forward to seeing where Austin Butler goes from here. Rami Malek did Queen and then dropped off the face of the world except for a smallish show cop person that didn’t do him any favours. Mr. Robot, Papillon, and Queen. Gorgeous roles.

The dresses this year are disappointing. Pleated, abundant cloth, arranged uncomfortably about most of the arms of some of the women who wore this style are

The best-dressed woman at the Oscars is Emily Blunt.

Jimmy Fallon? That’s him? Who knew? He, at least said, “”Everyone loved Top Gun!” My autism blocks the distinction between satire and truth. I hope it was a tribute.

Quan’s Oscar speech reminded me of the acceptance speech of the director and actor of, “Life is Beautiful.”

I love male dancers. Doesn’t matter if they are Russian ballerinas or cossacks or Indians dancing to, “No to…” (I think that is what they called it.)

I trust only the box office. The rest is just hoopla. They deserve the party, to be sure, but watching the long drawn-out affair has begun to wear my interest thin. I am watching a youtube interview, writing this, and keeping up with the Oscars. Jimmy Fallon is a better host than the last lot who are forgotten except for that rude little man that is popular for saying it like it is, but he says it with malice. His name escapes me.

With Fidelis, Love, and Benevolent Light