Oscar night 2011 is upon us and although the days of my naive youth are behind me, I still adore the show. My affection made sense before the politics behind filmmaking became part of my knowledge pool. I miss that young girl with her foolproof plan. Just as the gambler believes the winnings will come because he will be satisfied with only a small chunk of the change, I believed in my own path to destiny. After all, it wasn’t like I was asking to be an overnight sensation. No way, I was too practical for that. My first few screenplays would be flat out rejected. In a few years a subsequent attempt would be purchased and never make it to the screen. Another purchase would follow several years later and result in mild success. I would quickly continue, achieving another notch of moderate success and then finally—critically acclaimed blockbuster. Position of power over my vision achieved, I would soon be directing with full creative control (again back before I learned the great power wielded by the almighty producer) and would become—wait for it— the first female director to win an Oscar for best picture.
Last year saw Kathryn Bigelow take home my statue and the last leg of my imagined journey with it. It was quite a relief to close that chapter in the book of my teenage ignorance. Still, for one night of the year I like to reconnect with that young girl with stars in her eyes. Bask in the dreams of my youth. Cover my eyes in embarrassment when the camera lingers on Jennifer Aniston when Brad or Angelina (no I will not call them that) are onstage and vice versa. Come on, how many freaking years ago was that now? Argue that I, for one, knew exactly what Sandy Powell was saying when she accepted her Costume Design Oscar for The Young Victoria and she was not being a bitch thank-you-very-much.
I used to take the time to watch the whole red-carpet event full of gorgeous gowns and questionable coifs —and heckle the screen at moronic mistakes like when one red carpet genius in 2008 failed to recognize Susan Downey and referred the couple as Robert Downey Jr. and his...date. Now, I find it hard enough to justify the hours I spend watching the show itself. I could tell myself it is work related but my thoughts on pop culture don’t qualify as the money maker in my writing schedule so I won’t lie to myself. I’m going to waste the evening watching the 83rd Academy Awards and I won’t regret it.
©2011 Bella Bowie
