Nobody Knows Anything

Welcome to Diane Patterson's eclectic blog about what strikes her fancy

Archives for March 2003

The Oscars

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  • I would have lost the Oscar pool this year. Even though I switched to Chris Cooper for Adaptation, I’m still somewhat surprised by Catherine Zeta-Jones’s award.
  • Anybody who had Adrien Brody cleaned up big.
  • Steve Martin? Pretty damn funny. I’d have him back.
  • Not that it’s any of my business or anything, but, uh…was Jack Nicholson’s date Nicolas Cage?
  • “Every time they give out an Oscar, an agent gets his wings.”
  • You know, it dawns on me only now I should have done a real-time blogging commentary on the Oscars à la The Agonist’s Iraq summary, but a)Sean Paul rocks and b)we TiVo’d the Oscars so we wouldn’t have to watch the whole damn thing.
  • Did they skip Eminem’s song? Or did we fast-forward over that?
  • Whatever induces actors to participate in the roundup of former Oscar winners? Do they get special goodie bags or something?
  • “I handed in a script last year and the studio didn’t change one word. The one word they didn’t change was on page 87.”
  • Trust me, no screenwriters are sitting around debating which is more difficult, an original screenplay or an adaptation. They’re much more concerned about free rewrites and the possessory credit.
  • Well, I missed that one. But I’ve been saying that all night, so who cares. I didn’t have money on this.
  • Wow! Pedro Almodovar! No sop to My Big Fat Greek Wedding! Well, good for him. And good that the Academy is branching out a little.
  • How stoned was Harrison Ford?
  • ROMAN POLANSKI? Oh, that wacky, wacky Academy. And two major awards for The Pianist. Very surprising.
  • You realize this means Michael Douglas can’t scream, “But I’m the one with the Oscar!” in fights any more?

Lazy Sunday

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Neida the babysitter has a nephew, Joseph, who really likes playing with Sophia. So much so that when Neida comes home after an afternoon with Fia Joseph points at the front door and says, “Back. Get Fia.” So much so that for Joseph’s birthday the family decided to take him and one friend to Sea World, and the friend he chose was Sophia.

So since 7:30am Darin and I have had a Fia-less day, and it’s been…weird. Like, we went out to breakfast and not having to worry about a place Sophia would like. Watching TV uninterrupted. (Well, mostly. We still do have Simon about.)

We’ve been talking about houses and moving and whether we should rent a place or what we should do. We don’t know. I sent my brother-in-law on a rather fruitless quest to look at some more houses. Pointless. We’ll just wait until we get up there. It’ll be easier that way. And certainly nothing has just sprung up in front of us.

We are not watching the news. Amazing, isn’t it—now that the war has started, I can’t stand to even read about it in blogs (despite the vast quantity of readers the heroic Sean Paul has sent my way during his insane posting spree). Of course, I can’t seem to get away from it, as you can tell from the previous entry. I just turn on some old damn movie and there it is, WWI. The War to End All Wars.

Well, there’s the Oscars tonight. I think the only tension there will be: will stars try to sneak political commentary in? I haven’t even seen any of the damn movies. Why am I watching again?

Plus ça change

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So I decided to TiVo the variety of Oscar shows (should any of them actually be on tonight, of course). In the background as I was hitting the various buttons was a 1933 movie of Noel Coward’s Cavalcade. A British family has just returned from some sort of holiday and is getting their house in order. I have no idea of the relationships between these characters, but the dialogue floored me:

   INT. DRAWING ROOM - DAY
   
   JOE, a young man, offers MARGARET, an older woman, 
   a cigarette.
   
            JOE
      Pretty thrilling, isn't it?
   
            MARGARET
      Just a bit too thrilling, my dear.
   
            JOE
      Oh, right on, Margaret. It's absolutely 
      marvelous. Passing all those supply trains 
      and guns. Being pushed aside to make way 
      for the troops. The crowds waiting for 
      something to happen. Ah, it was wonderful.
   
   
   FATHER enters, carrying a tray with a bottle of wine 
   and glasses.
   
   
            FATHER
      Jane's hollering for you in the kitchen, 
      Margaret.
   
            MARGARET
      Oh, all right.
   
   Margaret EXITS.
   
   
            FATHER
        (holding up bottle)
      Well, I can't find anything but (unintelligible). 
      We have to drink to Germany's downfall with 
      their own damn wine.
   
            JOE
      I rather like Germans. Don't you, father?
   
            FATHER
      Enormously. Give me a hand, Joey. 
   
            JOE
      If there is a war, how long do you think 
      it will last?
   
            FATHER
      Ooo, three months at the outside. 
   
            JOE
      We shall win?
   
            FATHER
      We shall win.
   
            JOE
        (excited, gleeful)
      Perhaps it'll last six months. 
   
            FATHER
      Economically impossible. Do you have 
      any idea what a war costs? 
   
            JOE
      Hell of a lot, I suppose.
   
            FATHER
      A hell of a lot. The Germans can afford it 
      even less than we can. Then there's Russia--
   
            JOE
      Good old Russia!
   
            FATHER
      --France, Italy...and America.
   
            JOE
      Japan, China, Nicaragua, Guatemala... 
      We've got them licked before we start.
   
            FATHER
      Don't be silly, Joey.

We’ve always thoughts wars were pretty cool and would be pretty short. Until they started, of course.