The Oscars are over, and--just like every year--the whole affair was a long, grueling slog. But you know what was even longer, and more grueling? The internet's drawn-out primal whine of self-righteous judgement against it. Was anyone really surprised that Seth MacFarlane's humor was misogynistic, racist, and just generally idiotic? You know: he actually has a threesome of virtually identical TV shows that just might have provided a clue as to what direction his material would be leaning. In fact, just look at movies in general: sexism is rampant, and while it's important to call it out whenever it happens, the reaction to the Oscars seemed a tad disproportionate to the evening's actual cultural relevance. Then again, it is a bit disappointing when an Oscar host is chosen with the express purpose of bringing some edginess to the proceedings, and instead of envelope-pushing modern comedy, we get treated to the bigoted humor of the 1970s.
But I don't want to talk about Seth MacFarlane's damaging impact on society; I want to talk about his actual performance. First of all, I'd like to point out that he's not really an actor: his face isn't expressive enough to convincingly portray either the mock sincerity or playful naughtiness that his material called for; and for a voice actor, his vocal performance was similarly monotone. His delivery on the whole was jovial, but flat. He's not really a comedian, either: his jokes ranged from unfunny--the "Jews run Hollywood" bit--and very mildly funny--the "Boob Song." Let's face it: MacFarlane wouldn't be famous if he didn't create a dumbed-down ripoff of "The Simpsons" for 13-year-old boys, and he certainly wouldn't have the clout to host the Oscars. The only other similar gig he's had is hosting a few of the Comedy Central Roasts. And so what did he do with this incredible opportunity? He treated it like another excuse for shock humor and insult comedy.
In my lifetime, I've witness several utterly beloved comedians utterly bomb at the Oscars. Everyone seems to acknowledge that hosting the show is a tough gig, but rarely do I ever hear anyone asking the important question: namely, what do we even want from an Oscars host? I envision the ideal host as an all-powerful mother/father figure, holding me securely in a pair of giant hands as she or he effortlessly guides the proceedings along. In some ways, this imaginary figure stands in direct opposition to my platonic ideal of a neurotic, needy comedian. Now, don't get me wrong: I personally cannot function without injecting humor into basically every aspect of my life. But the Oscars aren't a stand-up gig, and they're not a sitcom. I think the Bruce Vilanchy punchlines are a distraction from the proceedings, especially when delivered awkwardly by pairs of movie stars before they announce a winner (or by a pair of talented young movie stars misguidedly given the reins to host the show themselves).
Besides the "comedy," the show itself wasn't completely worthless; the tribute to classic musicals was nice... although I would have liked it to have included more than 3 movies. And, you know, maybe showcase some snippets from lesser-known films... or even just a few from over ten years ago. Both Bond theme singers gave incredible performances... but why didn't they sing one after the other, so the show's relatively tiny-but-nevertheless-highly-touted Bond tribute wasn't just a couple three-minute segments divided by 15 minutes of random awards and painfully bad patter? The "In Memoriam" tribute is always moving... although it seems like more and more each year, the public reaction to the segment is just a morbid game of "Who Did They Forget?" faux-outrage. I do love Oscar fashion... although it's impossible to ignore the continuing trend of ever-more uniform, monochromatic looks, styled with "safety first" as guiding philosophy so as to preemptively defend against the slings and arrows of outrageously overcritical fashion bloggers. I like playful outfits, outfits with character; the only ensemble I really loved this year was that of little Quvenzhane Wallis, thanks to her adorable plush doggy bag. Her transgressions were forgiven by the twitterati because she's nine.
I hate to be negative--I really do--but like just about every other online commentator, I found myself at the end of the show with a notebook full of complaints, and the fleeting memories of less than ten minutes of actual entertainment, shaking my head in disappointment like an offended Felix Unger: "Oscar, Oscar, Oscar..." I don't think the ceremony should be turned into a circus, but if it's going to be televised at all, they need to figure out what exactly the show is, and how to do it right.
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