Hello and welcome – film fans, awards junkies, wild-eyed insomniacs and
angry loners alike – to the 85th Oscars, coming live as a petri dish from the
Dolby theatre in Hollywood. The guests are gathering, the red carpet is being
trampled back and forth, and the annual circus of celebration and humiliation is
about to commence. It promises to be a little like The Hunger Games, except
without the sexual undertow.
We shall be covering the event right through to its shattered, scrambled
finale. Be warned: the Oscars typically end with a hurried farewell from the
host followed by a prolonged assault by a gang of singing children, who somehow
always manage to evade security to bum-rush the stage in the ceremony's dying
moments. Nothing, it seems, can be done about these children. They come up
through the sewers, shrieking and feral, their eyes full of murder. By that
point, at least, we shall know whether it is Argo's night or whether Lincoln,
Life of Pi or Les Misérables have stolen in to upset the apple cart.
Semiotics are important at this year's event. Officially these are still
"the 85th Academy Awards", although the Academy now feels that the name is too
"musty" and are encouraging us to use the nickname instead. The Dolby theatre,
too, was formerly known as the "Kodak theatre" (until the company filed for
Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection) and then, briefly, as the Hollywood and
Highland Centre.
They can change the name as much as they like. The singing children know
the way.
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