The Oscars

Be careful what you wish for. I used to love the years when a single film not only won Best Picture but also collected almost everything that came its way throughout the evening. My favorite titans of film, Titanic and The Return of the King, managed to pull it off, and the last work to achieve this – with eight statuettes – was Slumdog Millionaire, which seems relatively recent but was actually a long fourteen years ago. Since that time, every year has seen films of varying degrees of success, but it was only this year did that they found the true king of the evening. As luck would have it, this was also a winner I was somewhat unfamiliar with, I barely managed to catch a viewing of it, and out of the ten nominees it (understandably) appealed to me the least. And yet coming face to face with all the winners linked to the project and witnessing their sincere boundless joy, I accept the results almost immediately and without any difficulty, and I accept that this was not an unfair or undeserving victor, just one that had passed me by. The evening itself was entertaining, what with Jimmy Kimmel's return as the host and the associated effort to get back to optimism and entertainment instead of overcooked instructional monologues and inspirational yet unremarkable speeches. There is still work to be done, especially on the clumsy transitions practically in the middle of a sentence, but out of the last five years this one was the first I watched with enjoyment instead of out of a sense of personal duty. (16.03.2023)