Four-hour Oscars show ranks as 'longest year? of reviewer?s life

If, as Shakespeare proclaimed in "Hamlet," "Brevity is the soul of wit," the 74th annual Oscars presentation was the most witless or soulless thing in recent televised history.

I mean really, it was just a few short weeks ago we were treated to three "celebrity" boxing matches, each one better than the last. With commercials, replays, commentary and all, the whole thing still came in at one hour. The Oscars? Four plus.

In general, I have no use for awards ceremonies. But I've always considered the Oscars to be the mother of all awards and have cut them more slack than I probably should have.

This year it ends ...

If Danny Partridge can whoop up on Greg Brady, Todd Bridges kick Vanilla Ice's butt and Tonya Harding slap Paula Jones down in less than an hour, why does the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences need nearly four and a half hours to pat themselves on the back?

I've been watching the Oscars for years and really felt they'd been getting better lately. But Sunday, March 24, 2002 between the hours of 7 and 11:30 p.m. was possibly the longest year of my life.

It's hard to say what the most annoying thing about the ceremony was (outside of its marathon length) but a toss-up would have to be between the sports-themed announcer booth with Glenn Close and Donald Sutherland and the idiotic lines spouted by hostess Whoopi Goldberg, supplied to her by long time friend (and "Hollywood Squares co-star,") Bruce Vilanch.

He gave her such memorable quips as, "Lord of the Rings' is about a fantastical place filled with elves, trolls, sprites and fairies, which you can enjoy in the movie or right outside on Hollywood Boulevard."

Another plum nugget was, "Movie stars, a great big party ... my God, is this Liza's wedding?"

It was about this time I tried to find a rock to crawl under.

But then, for a brief moment, there was cinematic ceremonial salvation. Woody Allen, who eschews all things of this nature (even having been nominated for and winning several awards) steps up on the stage.

And love him or hate him, you have to admit he's written and directed some of the finest films of the last 25 years.

Allen took the stage, did a few minutes of his classic schtick and then introduced a tribute to New York City, a place that has inspired legions of films and been the backdrop for others.

Clips in this segment ranged from Allen's own "Manhattan" and "Annie Hall" to quintessential New Yorker Martin Scorcese's "Taxi Driver" and "Mean Streets" to classic scenes from Busby Berkeley and Spike Lee. So maybe it was a blatant play on sympathy, but "the city" deserves some recognition and I'm glad she got it.

There were two major surprises in the night, the first being that the French film "Amelie" didn't win the Best Foreign Film award. While I haven't seen any of the other movies in this category "No Man's Land," the story of two soldiers thrown together during the Bosnian conflict won I assumed that the sweetly deft "Amelie" (which is the most profitable film in the history of French cinema) would win. As a matter of fact, it should have been up for Best Picture.

Secondly, "Memento" should have won the award for Best Original Screenplay.

While everyone touted "The Lord of the Rings," things tended to go as I predicted. Knowing that Hollywood loves a film about anyone remotely handicapped, I picked "A Beautiful Mind" as the sure bet, Ron Howard (director of that film) as the likely winner and star Russell Crowe as the Best Actor.

So, I was wrong about Crowe.

This was the year of the African American and after hosting a well-played and much deserved tribute to Sidney Poitier, Denzel Washington took the honors as Best Actor for his role in "Training Day."

Halle Berry made Oscar history by becoming the first African American woman to win a Best Actress award. While I found her performance impressive in "Monster's Ball," after enduring her acceptance speech I lamented the fact that someone who wasn't actually at the ceremony didn't win.

As a final note and far be it from me to criticize the way people dress as I wear black Levis and sweatshirts 365 days a year but how on Earth can someone so inherently lovely as Gwyneth Paltrow wear something so excruciatingly hideous?

Berry's outfit was a close second, but her acceptance speech was so bad it blinded me to her ugly, ugly, ugly outfit.

I love movies, I really do, but excuse me for now while I replay the Tonya Harding-Paula Jones bout for the umpteenth time ...

(Jim Wunderle works at Associated Video Producers and is a Springfield free-lance writer and musician.)