A Day Late and a Dollar Short: An Oscars Post-Mortem

Nipple with a Z

I didn't get to the movies last year nearly as much as I wanted and usually do. A lot of that had to do with Mom's declining health and passing. Much of it had to do with the fact that there was very little to get excited about, this year. The only Best Picture nominee I saw was Gravity, and while it was the best movie Uncle P saw all year, that's not saying much. And honestly, I had little interest in seeing the other nominees. That's not saying they weren't excellent films, but I don't always want a life-lesson when I see a movie. I just want to be transported from reality for 90 to 120 minutes, forgetting about the problems of the real world for just a little while. Of course, the really great movies, IMHO, are the ones that can do both. Pan's Labyrinth springs to mind. I'm sure that 12 Years a Slave is a very good film. I just don't want to spend two hours watching another person suffer.

Of course, most people watching the Oscars feel the same way. It isn't about who or what wins or why. It's about the accompanying sideshow. Who wore or said or did what? What outrageous thing happened that's trending on Twitter. Travolta said what? Did Ellen just call Liza a tranny? Are Liza's nips really that huge? Did you see Kim Novak's face? Ellen ordered pizza? How wacky! 

And in what is both the funniest and saddest moment of this year's Overblown Ego-fest, Scientologist and alleged masseur molester John Travolta forever cemented his 'Oscars Fail' when he introduced Broadway star Idina Menzel as "Adele Dazeem." 

Is it any wonder poor Ms Menzel botched her performance of a song every little girl (and some big girls and boys) knows by heart after listening to the Frozen soundtrack for the 12,367th time? No pressure there, eh? Pink, however, managed to not only show up in a gorgeous red-sequined gown that was deliberately reminiscent of Dorothy's ruby slippers, but then fearlessly took on an iconic song which she managed to own! Brava!

Then there's the obsession with the celebrities' fashions. First, why didn't Lorna Luft tell her sister to wear a bra? Everyone else looked nice, I suppose. I wondered if Cate Blanchet's dress was designed by Tesla, though I thought Idina Menzel, Lupita Nyong'o and Camila Alves looked particularly stunning. Jared Leto's hair bothered some folks I know. I was just pleased that he finally acknowledged all the people living with and who have died from AIDS, unlike co-star Matthew McConaughey, who rambled on like the weirdo he appears to be. No one was surprised by Gravity grabbing all the technical awards, or by Frozen winning both awards for which it was nominated (I must admit. "Let It Go" has become a personal anthem, of late). 

Mostly, as for the past too many years, there wasn't a single surprise or upset. I didn't do a predictions post this year, but I should have. We all would have won our office pools had I done so. When the Oscars are that predictable, it's time to stop watching. 

Though there were a few things I liked:

Maybe I'm just too old and jaded to care anymore. As a life-long movie lover, that makes me kind of sad...

More, anon.

Prospero

Yoko Is Out of Her Mind (Plus Bonus Hilarity)

Looking Fierce to Hide His Embarrassment

Well, we've always known Yoko was a little mad. Now she's proving it with a men's fashion line for Opening Ceremony (via). Featuring decidedly unmasculine colors, patterns and fabrics; tube tops; exposed shoulders and open-toed, thigh-high boots with pockets, I can't imagine any man (gay or straight) not being laughed out of a room when wearing any of these clothes. Hell, I can't even imagine any drag queen I know wearing this over-priced, nonsensical crap.

Yes, I get it. Haute Couture is never really meant to be worn anywhere but on a runway. Thierry Mugler, Jean-Claude Gautier and other designers create these things primarily to show how clever they are. But their pret a portier (ready-to-wear) lines are never quite as outrageous and usually more acceptably mainstream. But Opening Ceremony is actually offering Yoko's designs for sale. I can't wait to see what Joan Rivers and company have to say about these togs on her snarky (and occasionally hilarious) show "Fashion Police." If you have a couple of thousand dollars you don't know what to do with and no dignity, you can own a Yoko Ono original. But I'd bet you wouldn't be willing to admit that you do.

Just look at that boot. I don't think that even the Marquis de Sade would wear those boots, unless he wanted to inspire pain from looking at his gnarly, yellow toenails. And just what would one keep in the pocket? A pack of smokes? A couple of tabs of X? Oh, maybe the remaining shreds of one's dignity. 

This line has led to me three distinct conclusions about Ms. Ono:

1. She's seen Cirque du Soliel's The Beatles: Love one too many times.

2. She dropped a lot of acid in the '70's.

3. She's always been insane and is now going out of her way to prove it.

You can draw whatever conclusions, you like. I'm sticking with these.
 

On a completely different and totally unrelated note, I stumbled upon this little gem earlier today (though I completely forget where) and had to share. Zombies are everywhere these days, and this banned commercial from XXL Sports takes full advantage of their popularity:

Nonsense, fashion, insanity and zombies. What more can one ask from a single post?

More, anon.
Prospero

The Gayest Thing You'll See This Week (Retro Edition)

I'll Take One To Go

Long before the Internet and the advent of readily available gay erotica, there were "Physique" magazines. Popular in the 50's, 60's and even the early 70's, these magazines purported to be about athletics and body-building. Of course, they were just filled with photos of half-naked, hot, muscular men in provocative poses and costumes, marketed to closeted gay men (and they pretty much all were, back then) who needed a little "help" when feeling lonely.

Of course, no one would dare admit to what those magazines were really about or who was buying them or why. They were about "health" and "fitness." No one was looking at them for sexual gratification (and my Great Aunt Ernestine was really the Grand Duchess Anastasia).

Today on Towleroad, someone dug up an old British Pathe clip* featuring a "daring" men's fashion show from 1951. And I suppose that for 1951, the clothing is actually a bit daring. Leopard-print bikinis, high-cut briefs and short-shorts were not what a gentleman wore about town in 1951. Designer John Cavanagh narrates what must have been a shocking piece when it first appeared on British cinema screens.

Of course, the models look like they've been drugged and you just know that the man feeling the fabric on that "Festival of Britain" shirt wished he could feel what's under those shorts (and he well may have, after the camera stopped rolling). And while I would like to imagine that the confused dachshund is a thinly disguised 'wiener' reference, I have to admit that the dog's inclusion was probably intended as kitsch, rather than camp. Though who knows what was going through the (supposedly) far more innocent minds of folks 60 years ago?

*I can't help but mention that the British Pathe logo is a cock.

More, anon.
Prospero

Beep-Beep!

I'm not to usually one to talk about about fashion and red carpet appearances (ask me sometime about the JTMF 5 Year Gala and my rented tux), though this year's Oscars featured some amazingly good and stunningly bad couture.

On the good side: Hailee Steinfeld in a beautiful and age-appropriate dress that made her look like a princess; Jennifer Hudson in a tangerine confection that showed off her new svelte body in amazing detail; Sandra Bullock in a stunning red gown which evoked Old Hollywood Glamor; Mila Kunis in romantic lavender lace; Helena Bonham Carter in a Gothic tribute to costume design; Hilary Swank in a flowing gossamer gown; Oprah Winfrey in a corseted dress that amazingly matched the set and co-host Anne Hathaway in 8 different looks (my favorite being her last gown - a stunning cobalt blue dress that proved her the heir to Katherine Hepburn's Oscar style).

On the bad side: The usually fabulous Nicole Kidman, who looked like she stepped out of the 1980 version of Flash Gordon; gorgeous Scarlett Johansson in a frumpy plum lace mess made worse by her terrible hairstyle; Jennifer Lawrence in an elongated red t-shirt and almost most heinous of all - Melissa Leo in a dress that looked like a broken mirror ball glued onto a distressed pant suit.

None of them however, compared to the Sci-Fi monstrosity worn by the usually gorgeous Cate Blanchett (seen in the picture above). A lavender beaded gown with leather Star Wars shoulders and puke-yellow beaded accents, the usually gorgeous Cate looked like Darth Vader's date to the Imperial Ball. 

Sadly, that's all I really have to say about this year's Academy Awards. Except maybe that I thought Hathaway would have done better on her own, without the obviously stoned Franco. She sure seemed to be having as good a time as Uncle P would have tried to have. Kudos to Colin Firth and Natalie Portman, who both deserved to win, even if no one was surprised to see them do so.

I'll leave you with this, apropos of nothing, really:

More, anon.
Prospero