Before the Oscar ceremony, host Chris Rock coated envelopes containing the names of the night's big winners in a substance that would instantly afflict presenters with Down's Syndrome. Here, Tim Robbins valiantly resists the disease, but eventually would succumb to Rock's practical joke.
During our liveblogging of the Oscars, we noted, "Dustin Hoffman is clearly drunk as he slurs his way through the nominees for Best Picture." We realize that it was unfair of us to speculate that Mr. Hoffman was actually impaired during the ceremony's culminating moment, mostly because we were so drunk that we had to type that line three times to get the spelling of "Hoffman" correct. So in the cold, sober light of day, we fired up the TiVo to break down Hoffman's Best Picture presentation performance for signs of inebriation. Here's the blow-by-blow so that you can judge for yourselves:
A quick round-up of selected gossip column coverage of Oscar party carnage:
· "The place reeks of pot. It's like a free for all. There are people in the Jacuzzi, and it's just wild." Fox's Roger Friedman gets a call from a guest "in the shit" at Patrick Whitesell's post-Oscar orgy. We've always heard that Endeavor gets the best weed—it helps them stop stressing about Ben Affleck's career.
· The Independent Spirit Awards swag bag: nary a tropical vacation to be found. It's amazing anyone shows up to that thing.
· Prehistoric Julia Roberts found, identified by enormous mouth.
· No one ever said that Oscar is fair.
· The Fug Girls get drafted by MSNBC to lend their fashion expertise.
· Whatever happened to time-tested methods of getting stars interested in your work, like writing your script on your penis and dipping it in their soup at the Ivy?
The Defamer Special Pre-Oscar Agent-Hosted Party Correspondent infiltrated CAA bigshot Bryan Lourd's A-list awards orgy and promptly filed this report, which we are now not as promptly sharing with you now. Inside: Robin Williams! Julia Roberts! A fat Tobey Maguire! Jen and Brad talking! To each other! Also in attendance: just about everyone else in Hollywood that an agency would need present for an obligatory salad-tossing as the Oscars approached. We'll get out of the way now and let Correspondent X do her thing:
This is the actual caption for this photo: "Chantal Cousineau (L) and an unidientified guest arrive at the 2005 Vanity Fair Oscar Party at Mortons in West Hollywood February 27, 2005." Maybe we're just a wee bit cynical, but we get the feeling that Robert Evans slipped someone from Reuters a hundred dollar bill and an associate producer credit to leave his name off to "make the tomato feel special." We hope the young lady didn't mistakenly put her glasses in the denture jar on his nightstand.
While Million Dollar Baby was busy winning the Heathen/Gay/Jew Awards (we call them "The Oscars," it's less of a mouthful), Jesus was busy collecting a Golden Crucifix from the Movieguide Faith & Values Awards for The Passion of the Christ. Predictably, JC peppered his acceptance speech with shout-outs to his father, mother, and his agent (the Holy Spirit always gets ten percent), then thanked Mel Gibson for "really making it look like I was getting my ass kicked for two hours." The Messiah then added, "It was pretty hilarious to show up at craft services covered in stage blood, flaps of flayed skin dangling, and overturn the breakfast buffet table in righteous anger because they were out of glazed doughnuts." Unfortunately, the Son of Man's riff on director Mel Gibson's penchant for practical jokes was drowned out by the orchestra.
As promised, we've shelved all ambitions of crashing the Kodak Theatre or the Vanity Fair Morton's bash to sit here on the sofa, drink to the point of kidney failure, and liveblog Hollywood's Biggest Night. Who will be the first to allow Oscar's gilded phallus to tickle their tonsils, and who'll be assuming the "insincerely smiling for the winner" position, and accepting his golden shaft into their nether regions?
· Iraq war documentary Gunner Palace wins an appeal with the MPAA, earns the title of Most. Profane. PG-13. Movie. Ever. [Variety]
· Everyone works during pilot season, part 100: Tiffani "Don't call me Amber" Thiessen is cast in CBS sitcom pilot Stroller Wars. [THR]
· HBO moves Six Feet Under to Monday nights just to watch broadcast network execs shit their pants. [Variety]
· Poker no longer red hot: Debra Messing joins Drew Barrymore and Eric Bana in the Curtis Hanson poker flick Lucky You. [THR]
· Just in time to sustain the industry's feel-good vibe from the Oscars, the MPAA announces more lawsuits against movie downloaders and file sharers. This might just be a rumor, but we've heard that Dan Glickman is going to castrate one of the pirates right after the "Recently Dead" montage in the Oscar telecast, then feed his balls to a ceremonial MGM lion. [Variety]
Looming awards-show responsibilities be damned, Oscar producer Gil Cates keeps churning out blog posts. Our favorite part is always the little picture of Cates prominently featuring a laptop (today, Cates types!) that may or may not be gutted like an Ikea desktop prop, making the connection between "computers" and "blogging" for his less tech-savvy readers. This time, Cates reaches out to those who somehow might have missed the barrage of media coverage for the Oscars, i.e., coma patients, babies born without any senses, and people on the dark side of the moon with shitty satellite reception:
We've only been following Oscar producer Gil Cates' behind-the-scenes blog musings for a couple of days now, but we're going to sorely miss his company come Monday morning. We fear he's going to abandon his online presence after the awards are over and return to his normal, daily activities, which we assume consists of chasing butterflies with an oversized net and trying to catch rainbows in a marmalade jar. Please take a moment to savor what will be one of his last dispatches before the Big Night steals him away from us:
The pre-Oscar script's been written over and over again: Old Hollywood thinks Chris Rock's going to fuck up their special night of globally-celebrated autoeroticism, while Young Hollywood can't wait to earn points at Chateau Marmont by having their names mentioned on the list of who's got their own dick in their mouth. If you can't wait to see some of what Rock will do on Sunday night, the LAW's Nikki Finke has some spoilers:
By now, it's accepted as fact that the best way to communicate with Hollywood's decision makers is through the creative use of billboards during Oscar season. The original version of this rolling anti-smoking advocacy ad will probably raise some awareness among studio heads huddled outside for their bi-hourly Marlboro Light, but why should certain Colombian interests not adopt a campaign targeted at the industry's influencers? Fun fact: No one ever died of lung cancer by blowing rails off a stripper's ass.
· Fuck the tsunami victims, and forget about houses sliding down hillsides, Hollywood has a bigger problem: How will the pounding rain affect the Oscar parties? [Variety]
· Everybody works during pilot season! James Van Der Beek and one of the Arquettes turn in their food stamps until at least mid-April as they sign up for sitcom pilots. [THR]
· The Shield showrunner Shawn Ryan tempts severe writers' block by inking a huge three-year overall deal with 20th Century Fox TV. Poor schmuck. He may never write again, and his army of gold robots will provide scant comfort as he kicks his laptop, screaming, "Why can't you give me more edgy cop dramas?!" [Variety]
· Failing to find a sufficiently commercial project involving the sexual molestation of former child actors and cancer patients, entertainment firm Neverland Films abandons its bad-buzz name and is reborn as Code Entertainment. Next up: Michael Jackson rechristens his home "Code Entertainment's House of Prepubescent Sodomy," forcing another naming crisis for the unlucky company. [Variety]
· U.S. Circuit Judge Harry Edwards tells off the FCC because when ordinary citizens do it, the governent cackles with delighted disregard: "Are you going to regulate washing machines next?...Ancillary [power] does not mean you get to rule the world." Awww snap! [THR]
According to Page Six, Miramax is trying to "disinvite" guests to its pre-Oscar party at the Pacific Design Center Saturday night, shifting certain previously-invited individuals to a "waiting list." We've heard that many of the tragically bumped are agents—coincidentally, we're sure!—who, luckily for the Weinsteins, always take personal slights that reduce their intake of free alcohol and opportunities to schmooze other people's clients with professionalism and grace.
In the grand tradition of Hugh Grant explaining the circumstances of his infamous blowjob on i>The Tonight Show, last night Chris Rock sat down on Jay Leno's couch to explain his comment that only guys who like to give blowjobs watch the Oscars. Joked Rock,"I did not say that. I said only gay people watch the Tonys." At least he tweaked the gays one more time before he veered dangerously close to Billy Crystal territory:
