No country for young men

I’ve been watching the Academy Awards for over forty years and in that span it was the rarest of years when I didn’t finish the show by uttering these words: 

Worst Oscars ever. 

This year was no exception.  The Academy tried to appeal to a younger demographic by tapping James Franco and Anne Hathaway to host, but they ended up with a humorless show that self-conscious and contrived.  

I was fortunate in that I had to pick up the family at the airport and ended up taping the broadcast.  I fast-forwaded through all the songs, technical awards, and boring speeches, which was practically every one.  Colin Firth….give me a break!   And those hosts…I wanted to slap them, especially Franco.  What was he on?  Then they bring out Billy Crystal for five minutes and he killed.  I would have preferred a holographic Bob Hope as my host.  At least *he’s* funny.  Even ninety-four year old Kirk Douglas had a cute bit as he teased and stalled his way to announcing the winner of the best supporting actress category.

It was difficult to tell whether Franco was stoned or if he was simply too cool for the Oscars.  He had a detached, wooden air about him, and at times he resembled a deer-in-headlights.  Hathaway did her best to inject some life into the broadcast, but let’s face it, Lucille Ball she aint.

Here is my suggestion to the Academy:  Forget the young demographic —   they’re not watching television anyway — and find yourself a senior citizen to host the show.  When the generations that were born in the 1930’s through the ’50s dies off you’ll be left with a humorless bunch of dime store hipsters that mistake cynical irony for comedy.   

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With the close of this year’s awards season I would like to recap some of the lesser known awards shows.

This year the Spammy Award went to Amir Gtkondo of the Security and Safe Deposit company in Ghana, for his generous offer to make me a partner in his inheritance.

The Jammy award was given to bassist Chris Amberger, Bay Area bassist extraordinaire, who sat in on a breakneck-tempoed Giant Steps with a pianist and bassist who had no interest in laying down any discernible time.

Finally, this year’s Traffy Award was awarded to the Long Island Expressway, for a record 60th straight year!    

Your Oscar recap

In this wasteland of sports between the Super Bowl and the opening day of baseball, we must thank the Academy for choosing March to air their big night. That being said what we got was a big bowl of bland.

I was happy to see the Hurt Locker win most of the big awards, and it was good to see Jeff Bridges setting the record for the most ‘mans’ uttered during an acceptance speech.

Where was the wattage? I missed Jack Nicholson leering from the front row, or drunken Dustin Hoffman drooling on a scantily clad Sharon Stone. There were no streakers, no politics, and, sadly, no wardrobe malfunctions. Hell, I would have settled for a Sally Fields weird and wacky speech. Sandra Bullock’s speech was eccentric, but in a joyless way.

Here is the unkindest cut of all. I was listening to a radio interview with the producer of the Oscars who revealed that he had wanted to book Sasha Baron Cohen as the host. The network refused thinking he would be too controversial and would have upstaged the stars. This is a sad commentary on our standards, but consistent with a country that finds Jay Leno funny.

Just get me through these next four weeks…