The Oscars: a consideration.

The other day, my friend Ann mused aloud (on Facebook--that has sound, right?),

 

After I fell out of my chair in disbelief, I considered a short list of celebratory things I generally abstain from:

1. going to Temple Square to watch the lights turn on at Christmastime.
2. going to a park or stadium to watch the fireworks on the Fourth of July.
3. dressing up for Halloween (except for wearing my The Raven tee shirt, which I save expressly for Halloweenery).

But I never never never don't watch the Oscars. I never even consider not watching them. Not even rhetorically.

I have heard others opine about Seth Macfarlane. What if he is awful? Dan Kois over on Slate says:

"What am I rooting for? I’m rooting for Seth MacFarlane to walk into the Dolby Theater on Sunday night complaining of a “terrific headache,” ask for an aspirin, and be given the night off by producer Craig Zadan. Filling in will be delightful Golden Globe hosts Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, who will then host the Oscars for 14 consecutive years."

Actually, I am rooting for that to happen, too. But I don't think it will happen.

I love the crazy over-longness of it, and the rousing conversations we have about the new, non-traditional, stupid ways they have of presenting the major acting awards. I love the sentiment and the industry shill. I love the clips, oh how I love the clips of the films!

I am pretty mad at the Academy this year for failing to nominate The Master and Paul Thomas Anderson for Best Picture and Best Director, respectively. I thought it was a masterpiece and my pick for best film of the year. I really don't get why they didn't nominate it in these categories, especially since they could have--what is the point of nine Best Picture nominees if you could have ten? They should have just nominated it. Stupid.

Also we have not yet seen Zero Dark Thirty. I am a little bit afraid of the movie, and also I'm afraid the historian and I might disagree about it (what if I think the film takes a morally nuanced position about torture, and he believes that it makes an argument that torture is sometimes justified?), and I hate when that happens. Also, I am possibly a weakling, and maybe I can't take it? Also, I heard a clip on NPR today, and Jessica Chastain sounded like she was possibly hamming it up? (out of context, just ignore that.) Ugh. I want to see it, I should just see it already. Tomorrow: it must happen!

And we have not seen Amour. I believe already that it is great and superb and also I believe with all my heart that it will depress the hell out of me/us. I might have to see this one alone, as well.

Anyway. Whether we end up seeing the remaining movies or not, I like contemplating the fact of watching the ceremony and celebration of it all, and finding out whether I think Seth Macfarlane is a smug bastard, or possibly a comic genius? or something in between. In any case, I will be with my family and a plate of snacks, and we will watch it with noise and pomp and circumstance, and it will be, as it always is, one of the events that constellates my movie-going year. (I bet Ann will be watching them too. Will you?)

Mad Men YES.

My life is so busy, I can barely watch all my shows.

For instance, tonight, Monday night, is 

(a) The Closer

(b) Trust Me

(c) an important rerun of Saving Grace from its first season, in preparation for new episodes in March

and, painfully,

(d) a concert in our jazz series.

So I put my DVR into service.  This scenario has happened more than once.  There was a concert a couple of weeks ago, before the above shows had started, but there was--in fact, these shows were also on tonight!--

(e) Big Bang Theory

(f) How I Met Your Mother

(g) Two and a Half Men (reader, I confess it.  I know it is unworthy.)

(The concerts were both lovely, thank you for asking, despite the small amount of discretionary whining I did about how I would rather stay home and watch my shows than go out to watch some jazz concert which might be lame.) However, I have hours--hours!--of DVR'd television.  

Of course, it's even more complicated than the labyrinthine dilemma outlined above.  The DVR is attached to the downstairs television.  (Don't even get me started on why.)  And the downstairs, while infinitely groovier than it once was (see: retrotastic blue sectional couch), is so very very cold.  Cold and icy.  Venture not into the basement without thine cozy blanket. And mittens, probably.

Yet, you say, there are hours and hours in the sabbatical day when one could knock off these recorded shows.  Hours and hours to watch television while bundled up in the basement.  A person could cross these shows off the to-do list, in an afternoon, probably--or a couple of afternoons, tops.  The problem with that is:  I am actually writing these days.  Oh yeah.  I am writing.  So all this recorded television is building up, I'm writing, there's the odd jazz concert, the basement's cold.  Who knows when the shows will get watched? Someone's got to do it, and someone's got to get her priorities in order.