And now, I'll bitch about the Oscars.

I don't know why I even bother to watch the Oscars, really. Award shows really don't have much merit these days, the Academy Awards being MAYBE the only slight exception. The Grammy Awards are a joke, The Golden Globes are just an excuse to get smashed and The People's Choice Awards remind us of why we only let the people choose once a year (of course, the Electoral People's Choice went accordingly). However, there's still something somewhat reputable about the Oscars. Maybe it's because they manage to nominate one or two really great actors or films that you haven't heard of each year, maybe it's because I've seen them as a big deal for so long and can't seem to shake it, or maybe it's because I enjoy watching Jack Nicholson leer at the next up and coming starlet but for some reason I'm hooked.

This year was really no different from any other year. A series of daring but not too daring films vie for the top prize with each other as the audience sits back and cheers for Reese Witherspoon (or the Reese Witherspoon of any given year). Not to disparage Ms. Witherspoon's performance, she did a fantastic job and deserves a pat on the back. However, there's that one darling girl each year that captivates the television audience and often wins, just to keep them interested. This was probably best explained by the absolutely hysterical Reese Witherspoon campaign ad produced by top-notch host Jon Stewart and collaborator Steven Colbert.

The awards were short on surprise and as usual a bit of a snooze-fest in the middle. In case you missed it, everyone that you expected to win pretty much did. Phillip Syemour Hoffman, Ang Lee, Reese Witherspoon, March of the Penguins and so on and so forth took home statues with the only moderate surprise coming at the end as Crash was awarded best picture. Not really a shocker, but I'll admit that I fully expected Brokeback Mountain to come away with it.

The Academy missed a couple of chances to really kick up the evening. An award to Amy Adams for her knockout performance in Junebug would have certainly brought out the tears and given us a grateful and honest acceptance speech. An award for Dolly Parton would have been interesting to say the least, and would have given me the opportunity to refer to her as "Academy Award Winner Dolly Parton" for the rest of my life (and who doesn't like the sound of that?). An award for Paradise Now would have enraged Ann Coulter (and that's really what it's all about).

Of course, it wasn't all bad. Clooney's acceptance speech was classic and reminded us all that sometimes being out of touch with mainstream America isn't always a bad thing (do I need to revisit the People's Choice Awards?). Nick Park dressing his Oscar in a bowtie was a nice touch. Phillip Seymour Hoffman's ode to his mother was great. But most of all the happiest people in Los Angeles last night, The Three-Six Mafia should have served to remind people of what winning an award like that should mean. They were jubilant, bouncing up and down and thanking everyone that they've ever met, and as they ran off stage with their hands in the air the Academy got a quick glimpse of what it looks like when real people get the kind of recognition that too many in Hollywood take for granted. Although I was still pulling for Dolly Parton, I can't pretend that "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp" hasn't been stuck in my head all day.

My personal highlight of the evening was the brilliant Meryl Streep/Lilly Tomlin presentation of the Honorary Oscar to film legend Robert Altman. Altman is a personal favorite of mine, making terribly interesting films with minimal pretense and amazing ensemble casts. Like Scorsese and Hitchcock, Altman has produced several nominations for himself, but was yet to actually win one of his own. It's at this point that I remind you that Cuba Gooding Jr. has an Oscar.

Jon Stewart was amazing, even if the mainstream press has already denounced him as a failure. He pulled off the most entertaining hosting job in years, actually getting me to laugh out loud repeatedly... something that Billy Crystal, Steve Martin and Whoopi Goldberg are yet to accomplish as a group.

So, that closes the book on yet another year in film. In a few months we can start speculating the next crop of predictable and often disappointing nominations, woo ha! Should the Academy decide against using Stewart again next year, may I suggest following the lead of the Independent Spirit Awards and booking Sarah Silverman.