I Shake my Perrier Bottle at you, Academy!!!!

Now that the Academy Awards are well over I’ve had time to be completely objective about the results, and hence this late-to-the-dance blog.

I keep a one liter plastic Perrier bottle on my living room table. (Hey screenwriters, I bet you never thought of this one!) I call it my Curse Bottle. It doesn’t exactly fit in with the décor but it’s an interesting conversation piece. It holds words; Very, very bad words and statements. I often pick it up by the neck and gently twirl it and I can almost see the words and phrases swirling around inside like marquee banners in a tornado. When I’m angry I unscrew the top and before any of the stored words can escape, I add a new barrage of angry words to the collective and then I quickly screw the cap back on. It’s a Pandora Perrier. God save the person who dares to open it other than me. Screaming Medusas will be unleashed. Your eardrums will burst and you will be driven to your knees with the desire to Hail Mary, Catholic or not. You would never know that I was capable of such words if you knew me but I have been screaming obscenities into Perrier bottles for about two years. I’ve had the most current bottle since the Academy Awards. The previous bottle was accidentally thrown out with the recyclables. I’m sure the other bottles, cans, and discarded Chinese food soup containers give it a wide berth at the local dump. 

I think I exhausted myself screaming into that Perrier bottle on Oscar night. It’s a pointless exercise at this point, but it’s safe to say that the Academy has officially become a joke. It was unofficial at the time of Gwyneth Paltrow’s win, but now it’s certified. I do believe I saw President Obama sign The-Academy-Awards-Are-A-Joke amendment to the Constitution shortly after the Best Actress  thievery was perpetuated.

Dear Academy, I thought the reason why we hand out Oscars is to award THE BEST in a certain defined category, not the BEST CAMPAIGN, not the BEST OH-GEE-PSHAW humble “I‘m-not-going-to-win acting,” and not the best attempt at acting in an actor’s career so far (no matter how inferior their performances are to the other nominees). Not even the BEST-I-KNOW-YOUR-HUSBAND-IS-CHEATING-ON-YOU sympathy vote. The Academy, which has not learned their lesson from Marisa Tomei or Gwyneth Paltrow (and even Jack Lemmon who originated this ridiculousness), continues to thumb their collective noses at, let’s face it, the general public who knows better. We can’t be bought. You can’t reach our wallets. You can’t touch us on the elbow and gently bring us into the fold. You don’t bake us cookies. We can’t be bribed.

Do you HONESTLY think that Sandra Bullock’s performance was better than those of the other nominees? Are you kidding? She couldn’t even conjure up one watery eye when Quinton Aaron, as Michael Oher, told her that he never had a bed. Sandra sat in her bedroom with a semi-sad little face, which was the saddest face in the entire movie. Compare that Academy, to Meryl Streep, as Julia Child as she reacted to the pregnancy of her sister. COME ON, I DARE YOU!  HAVE SOME BALLS! Academy, even the little guy, Jae Head, did a better job in The Blind Side. Before you know it you’ll be handing Jennifer Aniston an Oscar for any future drama she stars in. I can name so many better “comedians” from the past and present who were/are better actors, who never won an academy award. I’m done with this. I’m done with the Academy. You’re a wasteland of ineptitude, and my Perrier bottle knows it.

And while I’m at it, last night I saw The Fantastic Mr. Fox for the first time. It’s FAR superior to Up. Again, it’s just a matter of which movie is being promoted ad nauseam. Mr. Fox is a stronger story, the “acting” is superior, and the skills and patience needed to produce such a fine animated feature are to be worshiped. Bravi, and I’m terribly sorry. I made a clicking sound and a whistle into my Perrier bottle, followed by a long stream of expletives. I shake my bottle at you, Academy.

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