The Oscars

A celebration of thanking.

On Sunday the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences Such As Hairdressing will present the 98th Oscars telecast, which means millions of us will be tuning in to watch people involved with movies that we have not seen give speeches thanking long lists of people we have never heard of, which is why the Oscars broadcast often does not start and finish in the same fiscal quarter.

But there’s good news this year: In an effort to speed up the proceedings, the Academy has established a strict ten-name thanking limit. If an Oscar winner attempts to thank more than ten people, the orchestra leader will subtly signal that the limit has been reached by pushing a button that activates a trapdoor on the stage, shown here being tested by Tom Cruise, who does all of his own stunts.

So it should be a fun and exciting broadcast. The biggest excitement, as always, surrounds the Oscar for Best Picture, because whatever movie wins that coveted honor will achieve instant fame and be remembered forever, as exemplified by last year’s Best Picture winner, the title of which, as we all know because none of us will ever forget it, was...

(googling)

...OK, apparently it was a movie called “Anora,” which was of course the unforgettable story about a person, or possibly a place, named “Anora.” As far as we know.

Who will win Best Picture this year? Will it be “Encounter at Farpoint,” or “The Naked Now,” or “Code of Honor,” or even “The Last Outpost?” Probably not, because these are not Oscar-nominated movies. These are the titles of the first four episodes of season one (1987-88) of the TV series Star Trek: The Next Generation. I’m just listing them here to drive home the point that the average person such as (no offense) yourself is pretty much oblivious to what the film industry is up to these days.

This is definitely true of me. I’ve seen only two of this year’s ten Best Picture nominees, “F1” and “Marty Supreme.” “F1” is a Brad Pitt movie, starring Brad Pitt in the role of Brad Pitt. If you enjoy looking at Brad Pitt, you will enjoy “F1.” My wife certainly did.

As for “Marty Supreme,” if I had to summarize its central theme in two hyphenated words, those words would be: “ping-pong.” This movie contains a tremendous amount of ping-pong, including some of the most compelling CGI-enhanced ping-pong action sequences ever captured on film, and I include “The Godfather” parts I and II in that statement.

I didn’t see any of the other Best Picture nominees, but I understand that two of them are horror movies: “Sinners,” which is about vampires, and “Frankenstein,” which is a reimagining of the 1931 classic, so that the monster, instead of being a primitive and violent brute, is now a sensitive and articulate creature who yearns to engage in normal human pursuits:

Which movie will win? We’ll find out Sunday night, or possibly, if the trapdoor gets stuck, Tuesday. In any event, I’ll be watching.

I always watch the Oscars, but not because I’m rooting for any particular actors or movies. I’m rooting for the jokes, and the people who write them, because I have been one of those people. I was one of Steve Martin’s writers when he hosted the Oscars in 2003, and again in 2010, when he co-hosted with Alec Baldwin. Here’s a picture of me backstage with Steve (I call him “Steve,” because we’re friends) (my point being, I am friends with Steve Martin) during the 2003 show:

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That’s me in the back uncharacteristically wearing a tuxedo. Sitting next to me are Bruce Vilanch and Rita Rudner, who were also part of the writing team, along with Beth Armogida, Dave Boone, Andy Breckman, John Macks and Robert Shapiro. These are all very funny people, and Steve, in addition to being — it bears repeating — my friend, is a comedy genius, so that was a highly entertaining group to be part of. Plus I got to have several experiences that could only happen in L.A. during the Oscars.

The first one happened a week before the show. I flew out from Miami to LAX, where I was greeted by several enthusiastic and attractive young Oscar staffers, of which there seemed to be thousands. They escorted me to a garage and handed me the keys to a brand-new and startling large Cadillac Deville (Cadillac was a sponsor that year) which they said was mine to use for the week. They also told me there was a “gift basket” for me in the trunk. I assumed it would be something along the lines of fruit.

So I drove my enormous Cadillac across Los Angeles, a distance of 12 million miles, to where I was staying during the Oscars, which was Steve Martin’s house, because, as I may have mentioned earlier, Steve is a personal friend. I rang the doorbell, and Steve came outside to help me bring my stuff in. So I opened the Cadillac trunk to get my gift basket, and...

WHOA. Turns out it was not fruit. It was the legendary Oscars swag basket, containing, according to press reports, more than $20,000 worth of luxury goods, including jewelry, cosmetics, perfume, clothing and gift certificates for restaurants, spas, resorts and other luxurious experiences. These were provided by companies hoping that their products would be used by glamorous movie stars, although in some years, and 2003 happened to be one of them, baskets were also given to the writers, even though writers don’t have the celebrity “cachet” of, say, Harrison Ford, or for that matter the person who maintains Harrison Ford’s lawn sprinklers.

The gift basket in my trunk was a large Longaberger wicker hamper, bulging with swag, tastefully wrapped in gauze and tied with a bow. I tried to lift it out, but it was quite heavy, and as I struggled with it, the ribbon broke, the gauze came apart and the hamper fell open. Suddenly — I should mention here that Steve Martin’s house is at the top of a steep hill — dozens and dozens of luxury goods, many of them in exquisitely tasteful packaging, were bouncing gaily down the street in the general direction of Japan.

As I went scrambling after these items, my good friend Steve, without regard for his own personal safety, immediately ran into his house and came running back out with a camera so he could record me. Because that’s the kind of friend he is. Fortunately I was able to retrieve the gift-basket items, although I should note, in case the Internal Revenue Service monitors this Substack, that rolling down the hill reduced their estimated total retail value from $20,000 to $17.50.

So the gift basket was a nice “perk” of writing for the Oscars. Another one was that Michelle and I got to attend the Governor’s Ball, an exclusive post-Oscars event attended by many film-industry VIPs, including all the winners, nominees and presenters. Michelle and I sat at Steve Martin’s table (Steve happens to be a personal friend) which meant that a parade of famous celebrities stopped by to congratulate him and in some instances — here I am referring specifically to Julia Roberts — even nod vaguely in our direction. So that was exciting.

When the ball ended, everybody left at pretty much the same time, which meant that hundreds of people, many of them famous, some of them holding Oscar statuettes, most of them used to having assistants handle things for them, were milling around outside in this big confused Very Important Mob, wondering where their stretch limos were. It was a surreal scene, but also a reminder that Hollywood celebrities, as much as we idolize them, in the end are really just human beings no different from you and me, except they’re richer and more talented and way better looking.

Anyway, I’ll be watching the movie stars on the Oscars broadcast Monday night. But mostly I’ll be listening to the jokes, and hoping they get big laughs, because I know how good that makes the writers feel, backstage in their little room.

And now it’s time for me to present the Oscar for Best Supporting Subscribers...

...to you wonderful paying subscribers, without whom — and I say this in all sincerity — I would not have any paying subscribers.