the quiet storm

Wow. Castro resigns, Mama’s Obama is on the rise and Brit gets visitation....lots of stuff is happening in our world, but none of it matters because it’s all about the gold. Oscar gold, that is. My household is gearing up this weekend for what we call the Holiday of the Year. The foam core and props are a flying and the bubbly is chilled. My poor hubby. I can’t draw a stickman, so Mama comes up with the ideas but G. has to bring them to life. You’d think I’d be going a little easier on him since everything but no. I’ve got Big Daddy cutting, pasting and revving up what will proudly be our third annual Oscars in The Ozarks. Hey, I do something besides being the brains behind this gold dust operation…I mop, I drink, I make the dessert and trollup the girls up in their festive award wear.

2008 is the Year of the Rat for a lot of reasons. Five, actually, as Pixar is dancing a rodent jig over Remy’s five noms. W. thinks “he’s a good actor, mom, and he should win.” Who knows? If Crash can nab Best Picture two years ago, then anything can happen. I have to say, the Coen Bros have done it again for me with their warped brand of cinematic excellence and Stewart will give us a laugh or two as he heads up this grand 80th year. Mama misses her Billy, but what are gonna do? Yes, 2007 was a time for heightened drama, violence out the wah-zoo..one of epic and bloody proportion. But when it all came down to it, it was the quiet ones that did it for me this year. Oh, sure, I’m a big ole drama queen from way back. I’ll cop to that. I’ve always loved my Daniel Day’s squalling, my Piaf tragedies...my Silkwoods and Norma Raes, but this year it was all about the cornflower eyes of Ms. Christie, snow-angeled against the pure white snow...lost in her tangled thoughts and fading memories. Her soft, exquisite beauty is electric and it was an honor to see her grace the screen again...perfectly paired with a lovely performance by Gordon Pinsett. As of late, I am reminded of Ledger’s solitary, restless character in Brokeback...such promise and a Steve McQueen magic in that young man. Very sad…to lose a budding artist, at the beginning of his voyage.

Tommy Lee (as in Jones, not Motley) was powerful and is another vote for Mama this year. That weathered everyday face simmers with its usual quiet intensity and just brings me to my knees. There was a scene where he listens to someone describe the manner in which his boy has been murdered and that still, close-up of a moment taught me more about my craft than any pricey Master Class. You know, good acting is never easy but it is more of a challenge, I think, to play the characters that are holding a bit of something back...from us..from themselve..struggling to make sense of the chaos and not quite sure just how to do it...drawing us into their whisper, taking a small part of our heart to make it all complete. Speaking of heart...Mr. Holbrook and Amy Ryan- you both should walk into Vanity Fair's gala tomorrow night, holding the gold, or the world just isn't right.

Oh, I know, when it comes down to it, it’s all about the campaigning and money..like Hollywood’s never been about anything else but that. But for this old softie, Oscar Sunday is about the magic, the art, the mystery, and yes, absolutely about the couture. I realize that Art of any kind is abstract and when it comes down to it, tomorrow isn’t about being the best actor, the best movie-maker...but a wonderful opportunity to celebrate the power and beauty of the cinema, the art of performance and the mind-blowing amount of talented peeps it takes to put together all those cinematic jewels. For a young girl, growing up on a farm in the South, an hour bus ride to school...the movies were my salvation in a sense- my impetus for shaking the dust of a small town off my shoes...an escape from the hard times of watching my brother slowly crash and burn...the answer to who I was and the path to where I thought all of my dreams laid like a big pot of gold. That precious journey has molded me, unfolding many layers and yielding much treasure along the way. But enough with all that. I just can’t wait to see what Kirkland wears.