So how about that, a pretty decent Oscar broadcast, very tastefully done and produced with an eye on keeping the pace moving at a decent clip. Anne Hathaway and James Franco did a surprisingly good job as hosts, not trying to be anybody that they're not, they kept it simple and had fun and won me over on pure likability. On the other end of the spectrum, the evening's most awkward moments came at the beginning, when Dick Clark -- I mean, Kirk Douglas presented the Best Supporting Actress award to Melissa Leo for The Fighter. Her acceptance speech was bad enough, a virtual parody of faux-surprise narcissism as she struggled to squeeze the entire pantheon of human emotions into her brief time onstage, no doubt for the benefit of any potential casting agents in the room --which is to say, all of them. But then she actually dropped the F-bomb, trying to somehow show she's just a regular gal. Color me outta there. The harpie actually took Kirk Douglas' cane away from him as they left the stage -- way to convince us you're not really all that old Melissa. The look on James Franco's face afterwards was priceless.
Poor Christian Bale actually forgot his wife's name, and even after he -- and everyone else -- realized he'd done it, he still couldn't seem to remember her name. Amnesia, thy name is Oscar.
Of the seven main awards, I missed two -- Best Supporting Actress and Best Director -- I somehow spaced that Tom Hooper had won the DGA, effectively locking his win. But I guess five out of seven ain't bad.
A much tighter show this year, the song nominees were presented economically and quickly with not a single production number and and attempts at bits-of-business were brief. Not a bad job this year, guys. You kept it moving. Now somebody please move Melissa Leo.
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