The past few Academy Awards have left me with little more than a few dry heaves, but Billy Crystal restored much-needed balance to the celebration. Like Pepto-Bismol, he coated everything in frothy relief.
I did not once feel the need to hurl insulting invectives at the screen. Except for Jennifer Lopez, who looked like she was dressed for an upscale toga party, I felt the women’s apparel exquisite and their demeanor feminine and worthy of stardom. The men were stately and stunning in their own right. Women of color were front and center; beautiful and strong.
Don’t we all want to get glittery-eyed watching the Oscars?
I loved the throwback theme to the grand old movie days; and I kind of love that Jean DuJean won for “The Artist,” but I will reserve judgment until I see it for myself. Personally, “The Help” had my vote, and I was disappointed that Viola didn’t take home an Oscar.
I was deliriously thrilled to see a return to healthy, non-politically correct jokes, i.e. Billy Crystal:
“I loved that movie (The Help)…when I saw it, I wanted to hug the first black woman that I saw. Which from Beverly Hills is about a 45 minute drive.”
The audience even laughed. Cautiously.
But still…this is progress.
The past years were so full of green and homosexual and politically correct agendas that my eyes glazed over, I became nauseous, and made a dash for the Pepto-Bismol. I finally boycotted the Oscars. I am sure it made no dent in the ratings, but at least I felt personally vindicated about planting a conservative stake in the sand.
This year, for some reason, I decided to tune in, and winced my way through the first twenty minutes. Gradually, Billy Crystal won me over and my face relaxed. I stopped clutching my stomach in anticipation of impending nausea and started enjoying the show. I was delighted to see a return to slightly left of center. I know that slightly right of center is a dim and distant dream, but one can hope.
In my HDTV fantasies, I envision an Academy Awards night filled with red-carpet, pro-life banners, and a special row for those hardy souls that have produced or directed non-animated, G-rated movies. I envision couples parading down the red carpet that are actually married instead of living together and announcing that they are “married in their hearts.” The homosexual couples among Hollywood’s star-studded gallery would not plant passionate kisses on each other publically, and would consider Christianity a viable religion, and not a dirty joke. In my dream, Hollywood becomes a catalyst for a major return to family values and the foundations that have made this country great. Rush Limbaugh would be wildly celebrated (this is a dream, remember?) in Hollywood. He would have small cameos in pictures that are up for an Oscar, and the audience would point and gasp in recognition and glance knowingly at each other with tiny, approving smiles.
Movies that win Best Picture would feature loving families, with strong fathers that stick around and do not beat or kill their wives. If a character has slid into an unsavory situation or characteristic, there would be a strong incentive for redemption and resolution; showcasing a sense of right and wrong that is not blurred by the director’s vision. Women would support, love and respect their husbands, and not lust after young bucks with rock-hard abs.
Okay, maybe that last remark is a stretch, but I am sure you get my point.
I am sick to death of an Academy Awards committee that celebrates homosexuality, divorce, immorality, lying, killing, adultery, stealing and drug use. For me, excellent acting and character interpretation do not outweigh subject matter that should be scraped off one’s shoe. Content is important. Movies shape how people view life. They are powerful graphic segments that imprint our minds.
I am lobbying for a committee that includes a few conservative viewpoints and less agenda-driven decisions. I want to see movies that feature strong, honest and loyal men; honorable, feminine women, and kids that do not start having sex at age 12, then dissolve into addiction of one sort or another. And, of course, I would love to see more politically incorrect innuendo
Billy Crystal, you have restored my hope in the Oscars.
I will not be fully convinced, though, until after the presidential elections, which are right around the corner. If America experiences a return to less left-leaning leaders and agendas, I may give my bottle of Pepto the heave-ho instead of the Oscars.
I can dream, can’t I?