Misinformed, angry, coffee-addled ranting.
The last week has been a monumental one in the world of journalism. Former News of the World Editor Rebekah Brooks’ trial for phone hacking has exposed more fuck ups than the Sky Sports’ coverage of the World Championships of Fucking Up in HD. Turnip-faced punch magnet Piers Morgan has delightfully had his CNN show Piers Morgan Live axed for poor ratings. More importantly however, the world was shaken by the long-awaited return of The Bastard Lounge, back with a vengeance and ready to pour a great steaming trough of angry vitriol over the happenings of Planet Earth.
With the deployment of Russian forces into Crimea and the looming threat of World War III tucked safely at the back of our minds, humans instead turned to the Oscars, and descended on Hollywood like a swarm of angry bees suckling on the glittery nectar of Tinseltown. Hosted for the second time by Ellen DeGeneres, the lavish ceremony saw more celebrities crammed into one room than an Operation Yewtree Court Case.
Opening the show dressed like Dandini from a particularly extravagantly budgeted production of Cinderella, the infuriatingly likeable DeGeneres kicked off proceedings with the most lamentable form of modern communication; the ‘selfie’, seemingly believing that there wouldn’t be any cameras around to document her turn as organ-grinder to the A-List performing monkeys present. It turned out to be the first of many, as DeGeneres later broke the record for the most Retweeted Tweet of all time with this star-studded collection of gurns; crashing Twitter in the process:
The rest of the show passed mostly without incident. There was none of the controversy of Seth MacFarlane’s brilliantly divisive “We Saw Your Boobs” paean to all the nipple-baring actresses in attendance from last year. Indeed, the worst the audience was subjected to was Pharrell Williams’ particularly obnoxious hat.
Featuring one of the most stacked and deserving list of nominees in years, it was pretty much impossible for there to be any decent controversy surrounding the eventual winners. Still, the internet erupted with a combination of barely concealed fury and cruel mocking as Leonardo DiCaprio again failed to pick up a shiny naked statuette. The fact that millions of people saw a handsome millionaire who bangs supermodels and owns his own island as an object of pity speaks volumes about the sad state of humanity circa 2014.
Further surprises came from the failure of American Hustle to capitalise on any of its 10 nominations despite a stellar performance from Jennifer Lawrence’s boobs. Equally surprising was the lack of gongs for the Wolf of Wall Street, particularly its failure to win Best Visual Effects for the immaculately coiffured pubic hair of its many and varied prostitutes and strippers. Maybe we’ve finally smashed the patriarchy after all.
Vaguely misogynistic joking aside, it was refreshing to see that we live in a culture which celebrates powerful performances of HIV positive transgender women; harrowing commentary on slavery (the first ever top prize win for a black director in the 86 years of Oscar history) and an intelligent film unashamedly centred around women as deserving of recognition.
With the Oscars marking the end of the Award Season, humankind is now faced with a troubling twelve months bereft of red carpet buffoonery:
That is of course if Nuclear War hasn’t kicked off by next week; decimating 90% of humanity and leaving the remaining 10% as mutilated disfigured savages, trapped in a murderous war for the last remaining radiation-free glass of water. Which is likely. Still, at least some famous people were given shiny things.