FT Corner: Oscars Aftermath

Having survived the night through eating large amounts of Nutella and swigging chocolate milk (a real rock and roll lifestyle!), for the third successive year I’ve managed to ‘do’ the Oscars. Even sat on my bum at home, I find it incredibly easy to get swept up in all the Academy Award-induced craziness. With my replica golden statute at my side (I really do have a life, honest… ) and on Film Trance tweeting duty, I was ready to enthusiastically cheer along in the hope of Redmayne/Whiplash/Boyhood victories until the early hours of a cold and rainy Midlands morning. 

When looking back over the events of Sunday evening/morning (alter dependent on what time zone you’re in), we must first address the huge, Barney Stinson-looking elephant in the room: Neil Patrick Harris totally bombed as host. Yeah, the opening musical number was OK and there was the half-decent skit where he came out in his pants, but otherwise his performance was a total snooze-fest. It was agonisingly painful to watch someone so talented literally (and I mean, literally) searching for laughs in front of hundreds of stony-faced celebs in the audience (along with the hundreds and millions watching in the comfort of their own home). Give me Seth McFarlane any day…

The biggest surprise of the night came in the shape of Birdman pipping Boyhood for both Best Director and Best Film. It was the main talking point heading into the Oscars, and my money was on each movie picking up one apiece out of the two big awards. Alejandro González Iñárritu’s flashy flick didn’t quite do it for me, and although I fail to see Richard Linklater’s 12 year epic as the masterpiece it supposedly is, my pick out of the two films for both gongs would have been his coming of age tale. What was glorious to see was Whiplash picking up three wins, although in my mind it should have won the lot – I’d have tried to find a way to give it the awards it wasn’t even eligible for (Sorry Big Hero 6!). It is hard for me to put into words without running the risk of spontaneous combustion just how much I adore Damien Chazelle’s orgasm-like jazz-drumming war epic. I still get hot flashes thinking of that nine minute drum solo finale. Excuse me while I sit down a moment…

The acting categories, bar Best Actor, had been sown up for months. Wins for Julianne Moore, J.K. Simmons and Patricia Arquette came as no surprise, but it was fabulous to see our own Eddie Redmayne – whose transformational performance as Stephen Hawking was something to behold – beat Michael Keaton for a golden statute. The Theory of Everything actor went in as favourite, but there were a few people – given American’s love for a comeback story – that thought the former Batman star might sneak it in his own backyard.

Well that’s it for another awards season, folks. The 87th Academy Awards will be remembered by many for its political overtones and its lack of quality gags, but I’ll leave you with my favourite moment of the night: a fabulously awkward exchange between Melanie Griffith and Dakota Johnson on the red carpet.

You can view the full list of winners here.

About MJ (350 Articles)
Films, football and cookies.

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