And The Winner Is

By TAD BARTIMUS

"And the winner is ... THE WOMAN IN THE ORANGE DRESS!"

Oh goody, it's Oscar time! A chance to eat junk food, applaud sappy sentimentality and talk back to the TV. Whether we're alone in our pajamas or living it up at a fancy party, Tinsel Town's big night offers a great excuse to watch Lycra instead of Lehrer.

March is a Lenten month more associated with mud and taxes than glamour and fun. That's why March's annual Academy Awards ceremony helps ease us over the hump from winter into spring. We get to talk about falling hemlines instead of falling stock prices, play movie trivia instead of telephone tag and gossip about public figures' marital scandals without worrying whether they'll affect America's foreign policy.

We get to ooh and aah as nervous nominees stroll up a red carpet bracketed by screaming fans. Our inquiring minds want to know if divorcing mega-stars Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman will speak to each other, or even show up; whether Australian heartthrob Russell Crowe, post-Meg Ryan, will show up with a new love on his arm; whether master of ceremonies Steve Martin will be as funny as Billy Crystal.

More than anything, we're curious about what best actress nominee Julia Roberts - she of the $20 million smile, she of the giggle heard 'round the world - will wear.
This fluff is irrelevant to our daily lives. That's the point. Oscar night, on March 25, is supposed to be fun -- nothing more, nothing less. The Academy Awards - and, to a lesser degree, the Kennedy Center Honors and the Miss America Pageant - offer us frivolity and silliness, music and dance, pretty clothes and pretty people. We pick up the clicker and park our brains. 

From Bangladesh to Brooklyn, millions of movie fans also tune in just to see the clothes and jewels, most of them on loan. Courtiers promise stars the moon if they'll wear their gowns and suits because the exposure is priceless. 
The show's best fashion moments are those that elicit the "What was she thinking?" reactions. Cut-outs, chains, molting feathers, fabric the color of compost - it's all there on Oscar night. For every perfect 10, there are a half-dozen stinkers. Who could forget Cher?

But there are classic fashion moments, too. What about those demure pink spaghetti straps that kept slipping off best actress winner Gwyneth Paltrow's creamy shoulders? Or Kim Basinger's timeless white satin ball gown when she picked up her best supporting actress award? Elegance beats tacky every time. Even Hollywood bad boys trade grunge for Armani on Oscar night.

There are always tearful tributes to Mom and a few lapses, like when the winner who is "so surprised I didn't prepare a speech" forgets to thank a spouse who waits - on camera - for an acknowledgment that never comes. Ouch!
TV viewing etiquette can be tricky, too. One friend divides her annual party between two television sets. Casual viewers who feel compelled to comment on everything are put in the living room; masochists who want absolute silence so they can hang on every word, even the sound-editing winner thanking the caterer, get stuck in the dining room.

The show's director would do well to rethink a couple of traditions: the speech by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences official who always looks like he has a broomstick up the back of his tuxedo, and the "surprise" appearance by a venerated but shaky veteran actor or actress who has us all on the edge of our seats wondering if he or she will make it through their speech before they forget why they're there.

Otherwise, Oscar night is perfect. Now, the envelope, please ... 

© 2001 The Women Syndicate

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© 2001 The Women Syndicate. The content on these pages is the property of The Women Syndicate and may not be used without express written permission. Contact friends@tadbartimus.com