2001-03-26 - 10:33 p.m.
Last night, I went to bed ransacking my memory for the handful of films I'd seen during 2000, having realized after Da Show that I hadn't viewed any of the movies on the ballot. In any of the categories. The only two titles I initially dredged up were 42 Up and Place Vendome; the BYM then reminded me of Sweet and Lowdown, and I just remembered The X-Men.
That may be an all-time low for me, quantity-wise (quality-wise, I enjoyed all four flicks). There were more films I'd intended to see, but the truth is that, for me, movies aren't relaxing. In fact, I get really edgy when I feel like I'm being forced into watching a film or television show - even a good one. You could call it a form of emotional agoraphobia - I don't like the sensation of feeling trapped as I watch other people acting dreadful, evil or stupid, even when I'm well aware that they're just pretending. With a book, I can skip to the next chapter or just put it down, but with video, I can't seem to tear away my eyes or stop my ears unless I literally turn my back to the screen and step into another room.
It's very inconvenient at times, this hang-up, and it irks me that I'm such a wuss - but it's unlikely that I'll cure myself of it anytime soon, there being so many other diversions beckoning for my spare time and cash. It's simply easier and cheaper to plop down upon my couch and read, or to fritter and flitter my way around the Net, or to dance to "Like A Prayer" in the middle of my living room. And I still owe my cousin that letter...
All of that said, I got five answers right on the ballot I'd filled out at Ter's kitchen table: Del Toro, Harden, Cinematography, Sound Editing (hey, with 50% odds...), and Original Screenplay. I dug the swan, and I thought Kate Hudson's outfit looked both fun and comfortable, but everytime I saw Juliette Binoche I wanted to scream, "YOU are one of the most stunningly gorgeous thirty-seven-year-olds in the entire Western world. You are NOT a flapper! Get rid of the beads and barette and put on some Dior, dammit!" I think Susanna Hoffs can sing - but not Randy Newman songs. Mo can have Stevie M. and Benicio, cuz Willem Dafoe's my man. (You may recall that I'm the woman who also lusted after Ivan Lendl. Vraiment.) Best speech: Soderbergh. Favorite reaction shot: the Crouching Tiger contingent cracking up during Peter Pau's rapid-fire reading of his thank-you list. I wanted to nominate Danny de Vito for next year's hosting gig, but that was before the BYM told me about Tracey Ullmann and Chris Isaak terrorizing the hosts of the Today Show this morning. (Are non-American actors allowed to host? Which reminds me - wouldn't it rule if Patrick Stewart were to host the Tonys? Rosie's jokes are actually pretty good, but she has got to stay out of the production numbers - but more on that in June...)
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