1. On Chris Rock and his oh-so-hard-hitting political humor: Um, it wasn't. And how was it going to be? How many censors and sponsors had to read it over with a comb before giving the OK? And why would a comedian who's generally regarded as the funniest working stand-up in America (one with terrible box-office sales and no acting talent) fuck with our oh-so-openminded nation and the Hollywood schlock-producers who feed it (and him)? Rock's monologue was safe (insert his stretch of a joke about how if W. worked at the Gap his register would be short, and that he'd start a war with Banana Republic), and that's the end of it. Apparently -- hold onto your seats! -- America wears khakis and won't be offended if you make mild jokes about the president that relate to our daily hunt-and-gathering sessions in the mall. Holla.
2. Best song? Why is there a category called "Best Song"? Why has it existed all these years except to make more money for Hollywood and the music industry? I may have only taken a few years of film classes, but since when does writing a song to be placed in the middle of a movie have anything to do with, you know, movie making production standards? Is it me, or have some movies just incorporated songs from time to time? I.E. Those produced by Disney or Pixar execs who decide to hire Sting or Celine Dion (or now lovely Beyonce) to cant about love over smooth synthesized love melodies ("A whole new world...") that will play at big-hair Staten Island weddings next year. Next year, let's ax "Best Song" and include a category for "Best Soundtrack." If original movie music is in as much of a slump as it is, why not also honor the art of picking and mixing pre-produced music to speak for your film's emotional climate?
3. And on the issue of movie music: Why was the evertalented composer Michael Giacchino of "The Incredibles" (as well as "Lost" and "Alias") robbed of a nomination? So John Williams could score yet another unwinnable nominee appearance with tunes for an unoriginal sequel (i.e. the latest incarnation of Harry Potter)?
4. Scorcese, and I love him, shouldn't fret. Did he really think that those eyebrows were cute enough to woo Hollywood hardliners away from tall, steely Clint and his General Motors pickup trucks? Also, the Aviator may have deserved Best Picture from a technical standpoint, but even Marty admitted in the NY Times that it wasn't a labor of love project but merely an assignment.
5. Swankified: If I hear one more comment about a trailer-trash girl making good, I'm going to absolutely lose it. Fine the girl can act but she snarls. Why -- despite her red-state appeal -- is she so beloved by Hollywood? (Ok, maybe yet another hypothetical question wasn't the best way to state this.)
6. I won my Oscar pool because I picked smartly in the categories of Best Documentary and Short Film (live action), among other things. I didn't see any of the movies but how could a movie about sex slaves ("Born Into Brothels") and one called "Wasp" not intrigue the valueriffic Academy?
7. Scarlett Johanssen (and, yes, she is a gorgeous ditz) hosted the science and technical awards. No, really! Watch the madness here and see why she already beat SNL to the punch. No parodies necessary here. Has anyone ever thought of casting her highness in something comedic?
I mean, I've only just heard about iPods myself. They play music, right? Ok, silliness aside, I really only have one point to make about the piece, and it's that Sullivan's right -- when it comes to urban jungles like New York City, that is. Part of the reason I left Manhattan was that I was beginning to feel too boxed in: I lived in a box, I worked in a box, I traveled in a series of connected boxes, and on the street, I didn't feel better since I was surrounded by people racing off to the next box of their day. L.A., you might argue, isn't an improvement: You spend tons of time in your car (a box on wheels). Yet, my L.A. is different, and I'd like to explain why. 1. I don't drive that much -- I'm lucky enough to live in a neighborhood where my bank, my market, my post office, my bookstore, my movie theater, and my favorite bars and restaurants are within walking distance. 2. I use my iPod in my car when I drive, and since I live in L.A., I usually drive with other people in my car with me (hence making the iPod a social tool -- especially when my friends and I play the games "Guest DJ" or "Drop the Needle"). 2. Since people walk around nice environs in L.A. -- ok, all thoss strip malls aren't exactly scenic, but the weather usually is (short of this week's monsoon), and it's nice to see trees and mountains as you meander from smoothie bar to smoothie bar -- less people seem to be walking around with their little white earbuds. People here actually seem to like the sounds of life. I see them listening. And 4. I have been to more outdoor parties here where the patio's iPod is the evening's conversation piece: and by this I mean it gets people talking about their music; making plans to share their music; and discussing why it is that they never really used to speak about such things in the past. Now, I don't work for Apple, and I'm as skeptical as the next New Republic-bred contrarian (especially about technology), but I've really got to say that the narcissist-problem the iPod causes in cities like New York for Andrew Sullivan is more a function of New York than of the iPod itself. Music and the tools that store and play it -- even privately -- can be social. It's urban people and the progress that causes them to retreat into themselves that aren't.
I don't read enough. Certainly not now that I'm a writer. It's a problem I'm quite embarassed about and often view as my ironically Woody Allenish "film director who goes blind" achilles heel. The fact is I did read voraciously as a student, but as I've grown up (or down, depending on your view), I've just had trouble both making the time and concentrating on a book once I've got a few free minutes. Yoga is helping me be less easily distracted. So is leaving my laptop in my trunk overnight so I can't check my e-mail for 12 hours a day. Still, since I've decided that returning to books as much as possible is very smart for me, I ocassionally review some. (Not that I don't read books I don't review, but there's nothing like having to say something intelligent about a book to get you to read it carefully more than once and then, you know, think about it.) Which brings me to my thoughts on Jonathan Lethem's forthcoming collection of personal culture essays entitled "
