We all knew who was going to win. We’ve known for months, really.
At Sunday night’s snooze-o-rama Oscars, “Oppenheimer” deservedly took home seven trophies: best picture, director (Christopher Nolan), actor (Cillian Murphy), supporting actor (Robert Downey Jr.), cinematography, score and editing.
It wasn’t a brutal beatdown. “Poor Things,” starring Emma Stone, snapped three technical awards away from it (as well as a Best Actress honor for Stone), and Cord Jefferson’s “American Fiction” deprived the atom bomb movie of Best Adapted Screenplay.
But it came off nuclear regardless.
Nolan’s British accent made the night feel all the more like the coronation it was. Well, except for the fact that the crowning of King Charles III only took an hour. If only.
Cheers, Oppy.
Now, on to the losers!
Boo-hoo for “Barbie.” Nominated for eight Oscars, the doll flick notched just one tiny victory: Best Song (“What Am I Made For?” by Billie Eilish and Finneas O’Connell).
What was this movie made for? Frankly, not award season.
Host Jimmy Kimmel mocked the industry’s seeming ambivalence toward the blockbuster at the top of the show.
“Barbie is a feminist icon thanks to Greta Gerwig, who many believe deserved to be nominated for Best Director,” he began. “I know you’re clapping, but you’re the ones who didn’t vote for her, by the way! Don’t act like you had nothing to do with it.”
Too right.
Now, Margot Robbie and Greta will have to settle for their $1.46 billion consolation prize. Imagine their anguish.
Or that of Bradley Cooper. His Leonard Bernstein biopic “Maestro,” which he directed, wrote and starred in, and was nominated for seven Oscars? Totally shut out. So, that’s 12 undelivered speeches for Bradley. Almost a coffee-table book’s worth.
“Poor Things”? Poor Marty! “Killers of the Flower Moon” became Martin Scorsese’s second film in a row after “The Irishman” to not win a single Oscar. That’s a dismal 0-20 record since 2019.
Lily Gladstone had been favored to win Best Actress for her role in the film, but Stone edged her out for her acclaimed performance as a sexed-up science experiment in Yorgos Lanthimos’ dramedy.
A bunch of features managed just one prize: “The Holdovers” got Best Supporting Actress (Da’Vine Joy Randolph); “Anatomy of a Fall,” Original Screenplay; “American Fiction,” Adapted Screenplay. But the ceremony should be hashtagged #Thingsenheimer.
How was the broadcast itself? Longer than the immigration line at Newark Airport. More effective than melatonin.
Kimmel stuck to old-school wisecracks, and not all of them landed. I most enjoyed his takeaway from the actors and writers strikes that ground Hollywood to a halt last year.
“It’s not just a bunch of heavily Botoxed, Hailey Bieber smoothie-drinking, diabetes prescription-abusing, gluten sensitive nepo babies with perpetually shivering Chihuahuas,” he said of Tinseltown. “This is a coalition of strong, hardworking, mentally tough American laborers. Women and men who would 100% die if we even had to touch the handle of a shovel.”
Yet it was unnecessary when, toward the end of the evening, as everybody was desperate to go to bed, Kimmel read aloud a Truth Social post from Donald Trump criticizing him.
“Has there EVER been a WORSE HOST than Jimmy Kimmel at The Oscars?” the former president asked.
Yeah, Anne Hathaway and James Franco are still worse. But get over it, Jimmy.
Ultimately, he was outshone by funnier presenters.
Kate McKinnon was hilarious as she told the crowd she believed that the “Jurassic Park” films were actually a series of documentaries.
Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt delightfully duked it out about who the real victor in the #Barbenheimer rivalry is. (By 10:30 p.m. that question was answered in no uncertain terms.)
Gosling’s kooky rendition of “I’m Just Ken” was a high-energy break from the funeral on Hollywood Blvd.
And John Cena struggled to contain his modesty as he presented the Oscar for Costume Design almost totally naked save for a strategically placed envelope.
But wrestlin’ Will Smith wasn’t on hand to slap anybody. And unlike Warren “Whoops, wrong envelope!” Beatty, Al Pacino read the correct Best Picture winner. There were no real streakers.
How sad that because Hollywood’s long-gone glamour has given way to celebrity overexposure and shameless self-promotion, our greatest hope for a watchable Oscars night is someone’s gigantic screw-up.
