Just when I thought I might not have a subject upon which to write this week, the Oscars happened on Sunday night… and boy, were they unforgettable, for unfortunately all the wrong reasons.
In case you’ve been living under a ‘rock’ (ha ha), you’ve probably heard that Will Smith took umbrage with a joke Chris Rock made, subsequently walked on stage and smacked the comedian across the face. The whole thing was bananas shocking and really cast a pall over what should have been a celebratory night for the winners. I know there are lots of people out there who think the Oscars are a waste of time, and Hollywood giving itself a pat on the back, etc. but it isn’t just about the big studios these days – more and more independent films are being recognised and if you think it’s an easy journey to that golden statue, it certainly is not.
For some, winning an award for their passion project born of sweat and tears, it’s a dream come true. Then, yeah, I know… there’s the likes of Spielberg, whom I love, and he won’t be holding out his begging bowl on Kickstarter any time soon, but the man’s an icon. I mean, c’mon – ‘Jaws’? I can’t believe my family moved to the Caribbean the same year that thing was released. For ages after I eventually saw it, any time I got in the water, I avoided lowering myself to eye level with the surface as that theme music would just start thrumming through my head.
For me, when it comes to the Oscars, it isn’t just about the little indies that could; the awards are a night of escapism – watching people with flawless, glowing skin walking a red carpet sporting heels that would put me in the hospital. As my friend Joe Keogh said, it’s times like these when we miss Joan Rivers the most. No one could comment on fashion like her. The pageantry, the over-the-topness of it all… I love it! The Oscars are my Super Bowl, and for years, I didn’t have the opportunity to see them.
Y’see, I’ve loved films since I was pretty young, but we had limited access to movies in Cayman. Thank goodness for Cinema I & II, which usually screened all the blockbusters, but there weren’t enough theatres to cover the less-mainstream flicks. I think not long before the Camana Bay Cinema opened, a small, proud group of cinephiles got together to watch foreign films and small budget productions before they became more popular. Beyond that, the only way to see critical darlings that didn’t make it big at the box office was on a 27” tube TV at home through the magic of VHS tape.
It was when Cayman finally got proper TV channels that the wonders of the Academy Awards were revealed. Those were around the Billy Crystal years, a beloved host who tended to open with a big musical number. He and the likes of Whoopi Goldberg, Steve Martin, Jon Stewart and Ellen DeGeneres were following in the footsteps of Johnny Carson and Bob Hope.
You’d think getting that hosting gig would be a huge honour. It is, but it’s also a massive undertaking, completely nervewracking and pretty thankless at times. I did stand-up comedy for many years at various venues around the island, when that form of entertainment was going through a boom. These days, I emcee some pretty big events, so I’m grateful for that experience. Lemme tell ya, there is no worse sound in the world than deafening silence after you’ve told a joke. When I was starting out, I was so nervous that I’d get no laughs, I raced through my material at about 100 miles an hour. My friend Eddie Brill, who subsequently went on to warm up the audience and book comedians for ‘Late Show with David Letterman’, was the first to advise me to “wait for the laugh” and “slow down”. As I got more confident, I was much better with it. Even if I didn’t get the reaction I was looking for, I’d make light of it, or even draw attention to the fact that it had fallen flat, which often worked a treat. Carson was a master of that manoeuvre on ‘The Tonight Show’.
It was sort of the same when I started out singing with bands around that age. In our early gigs, if I flubbed the lyrics or my voice cracked, I was mortified. How would I ever face the public again? How could I jeopardise my future chance at a Grammy like this? Did that cute guy just leave because I sang “R-E-S-P-E-C-V”?? Of course, I soon realised that nine times out of 10, no one noticed or cared. Besides, it wasn’t like they could ask for their money back; it was free entrance to the venue.
But, anyway, back to the Oscars… Anyone hosting that big night has got their work cut out for them. They should be edgy, but if they get too nasty, the room will turn on them. I think the only person who really doesn’t care about the latter is Ricky Gervais, which is probably why he’s never been asked. A team of writers is employed to write material, and still they can get it wrong; unless the Letterman “Uma, Oprah” debacle was him going completely rogue. That’s why, I have to say, I loved the three hosts this year (Amy Schumer, Wanda Sykes, Regina Hall). Yes, there were some iffy moments, but overall they were a breath of fresh air. I aspire to be as good as Amy Schumer – her comic timing is amazing, and with that cherubic face, she can get away with murder.
And now, speaking of people getting away with stuff, what the heck, Will Smith? I won’t belabour the point, as it has been done to death in the media, but man – that was something else. No matter where you stand regarding Chris Rock’s joke (which, controversy aside, I didn’t think was that hilarious), his recovery from that insane moment was nothing short of extraordinary. A small technical glitch can be enough to throw a performer off their routine, let alone taking a paw to the jaw. He was a consummate professional.
What was also pretty extraordinary, and not in a good way, was how nearly the entire room gave an ovation to Smith when he won for Best Actor less than an hour later. People, people, people…
Nope, this annual awards event is not for everyone, and Hollywood rallying to celebrate Smith – even as Rock probably still had a bag of frozen peas on his cheek – isn’t going to change their minds anytime soon.
Hopefully, next year, we’ll be back to normal with patronising red-carpet questions; waffling banter between presenters; and the orchestra prematurely playing off those who really deserve their moment in the spotlight.
You gotta love the Oscars.
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