|Last Night's Viewing Pleasure
||[Feb. 26th, 2007|10:06 am]
I never watch the Oscars. They're on at some ridiculous hour and I'm not that interested anyway. I don't watch the Baftas either. My intolerably stuck-up opinion is that the wrong people almost always win and the only judgement that counts is the judgement of history. |
Did Hitchcock ever win Best Film or Best Director? Did Welles? Did Wilder? I rest my case.
I think Helen Mirren got hers not because she gave the best performance but because she was playing the Queen and we all instinctively genuflect and Scorsese got his not because The Departed is a good film but because everyone was feeling sorry for him. And so it goes. I haven't seen any of the movies that were in competition so I don't know who should have won but I suspect Clint, Del Toro and Peter O'Toole were all robbed.
My TV viewing pleasure last night was provided by Most Haunted Live. The team had spent the whole weekend in an insanely spooky, gothic pile in Transylvania- hoping to interface with the ghost of Vlad Dracula- and last night's session was far and away the best. Vlad himself never showed (and I don't think I'd have believed it if he had) but we were introduced to plenty of spooks- archers, guards, torturers, torture victims- who'd known him well. In the final hour the team descended into a seething well of souls under the hall of judgement and Yvette Fielding struggled to keep things tight while Karl Beatty went funny (he often does) and started mumbling in Hungarian and David Wells became pale and interesting and one of the cameraman was dragged backwards down a slope by a gauntleted hand and an invisible something pelted them with all with bones. The three hour session ended on a cliffhanger with everyone still stuck in this psychic hell-hole.
Oscars-schmoscars, is what I say.