The Oscars are back and how!

The 2008 Oscar ceremony was distinctly a damp squib. I remember having made the journey from my suburban Jackson Heights apartment to my friend's place in Union Square in the cold New York winters to watch the ceremony last year (You see, I didn't have a cable connection at my place). As we plonked ourselves in front of the TV, half an hour into the show both of us got distinctly uninterested in the proceedings, and he got on the phone with some of his friends and I began browsing the internet, hardly paying attention to what's happening in Oscarland.

But this year "the man with no genitalia and a sword in his hand" made a distinct reappearance into public memory. One of the best Oscar shows that I have ever seen, never mind the fact that I have actively been watching the show only for the past 5-6 years or so.

Months before the show, the American economy crashed and people began predicting as to how this year's recession-ridden-torn-moneybags sponsored Academy awards would probably be one of the last shows before the Oscars moved into a connoisseur-audience league like the Tony's. That coupled with the fact that none of the biggest nominees were major worldwide hits (All the 5 nominees for the Top Movie Honors together raked in less moolah than the biggest hit last year 'The Dark Knight'), were enough to predict a doomsday show in movie history when Hollywood moviedom would have to give up its crown as America's culture and conscience building institution.

Thankfully that was not the case, and the Oscars and Hollywood still reign supreme. The show was brilliant, it started with a song-and-dance routince, and ended with the kids from Mumbai's slums stampeding onto the stage to claim the statuette, which all of them believed, was always rightfully theirs and their country's. Jai Ho! said the kids and the entire nation in unison.

But maybe three-and-a half hours before this climactic orgasm, I could not just believe that I had woken up this early in the morning Indian time, to watch another uneventful night at the Oscars. I was hoping they cut-size the show to less than a two or two and half hours so that I could go back to sleep for another hour or so before heading to work. The fact that it was Hugh Jackman who was gonna be the emcee, was even less of a redeeming factor.

The pre-show ritual of the red-carpet proceedings with the usual question of "What are you wearing?", etc was going on when I switched on the TV. In short, all looked good and I was hoping against hope that someone turned up in an ugly outfit, so that the fashion police could dissect their choice and ridicule them to death, just to uplift my spirits. Sadly the Bjorks and Chers and other fashion train wrecks of yesteryear are no longer in vogue, and everyone was prim and proper. What's with this herd gown-pout mentality? The only troupe that I noticed on the red carpet were the very kids who were going to create a mini stampede at the Kodak theatre a good three hours later. What gathered my attention was not the fact that they were an extremely good-looking, impeccably dressed and a beaming-with-pride lot, but an extremely stupid question that Ryan Seacrest asked the youngest girl in the lot, "Who made your dress?" The girl just looked at him blankly. Clearly, Ryan needs a reality check. What was he thinking? I began hoping that Hugh doesn't end up doing a Ryan, when he begins his act in a while.

The main event starts. Hugh makes some uninspired jokes "Everything has been downsized because of the recession." That's new! He starts his song-and-dance routine, which starts off as a very pedestrian affair. But then Jackman invites Anne Hathaway onto the stage, and very, very surprisingly she breaks into a song, and has an incredible voice. Everyone sits up and notices, I am sure she is gonna get some musicals in her kitty pretty soon. The song ends with a very good line, which I fail to note in its entirety during the show and google later up to find out exactly what those last words of the song are. It ends like this "I am Hugh Jackman, and I've waited so long! And no recession can stop my confession or silence my song! These are the Oscars, and this is my creed! I am a slumdog, I am a wrestler, I'll rent 'The Reader,' I'm Wolverine!" And the audience gives the act a standing ovation. So far so good.

After that, comes something new. Five former best supporting actresses, coming together on stage to announce and give away the award for this year's best supporting actress. At first the act seems too much like "Let's induct a new member into our mutual-admiration society". And I wait for them to get done with the act. Penelope Cruz wins for Vicky Cristina Barcelona. Good! She is pretty and I know nothing about the movie.

Then came my best part of the show Tina Fey, and Steve Martin. Ah! for some comic relief. (I googled this part of the show script too)

Fey: It has been said that to write is to live forever.

Martin: The man who said that is dead.

Fey: Yet, we all know the importance of writing, because every great movie begins with a great screenplay.

Martin: Or, a very good idea for the poster *. But usually, with a screenplay.

Fey: And every writer starts with a blank page.

Martin: And every blank page was once a tree.

Fey: And every tree was once a tiny seed.

Martin: And every tiny seed on Earth was placed here by the alien king Rondelay, to foster our titrates and fuel our positive transfers!

(* Ek vishesh tippanni - Was Martin referring to CC2C? The idea for that movie indeed only started with the poster. The poster was the only thing that remained interesting after the movie was seen.)

Next, Dustin Lance Black wins best original screenplay for "Milk." Black says, "To all of the gay and lesbian kids out there tonight who've been told that they're less than by their churches, or by the government, or by their families, that you are beautiful, wonderful creatures of value, and that, no matter what anyone tells you, God does love you, and very soon, I promise you, you will have equal rights, federally, across this great nation of ours." Hanky time! And there's Sean Penn, crying in the background. Oh God! what is this? My eyes have begun to well up too.

Next Jennifer Aniston comes out with Jack Black to present the best animated feature Oscar, which Wall-E wins as expected. But at least twice or thrice when she was on stage, the camera cuts to Angelina Jolie to show whether she was laughing, grimacing, cursing, frowning or being plain indifferent to Jen. I begin to feel sorry for these two girls, they will be stuck in the same competing-against-either image for the rest of their lives. Much like the Jaya Bachchan and Rekha of Indian movies. Even at this age, some 20-30 years after their tu-tu-main-main over AB, whenever Rekha comes on stage, the camera pans to Jaya and vice versa. I was secretly hoping that Angie does something really bad, but that's just me, looking for cheap shots even at places where I should not.

Ben Stiller and Natalie Portman next. Ben doing a routine which I don't quite understand. Maybe one of those Seinfeld type of jokes which only people in New York could understand, in this case maybe only the 200 odd crowd in Kodak theatre could understand.

Beyoncé joins Jackman onstage for a musical medley. She looks fat, sings well, and I can't wait for the entire song-dance routine to end. When will they get me my Indian song-dance routine? Wasn't this supposed to be India's night out at the Oscars? I so want to dance to O Saaya and Jai Ho, and show this angrezi waltz-schmaltz my thumbs-down.

Next some 5 best supporting actors from the past come on stage to induct a new member in their tribe. The only interesting guy here - Cuba Gooding Jr, who is introducing the nomination for Robert Downey Jr from Tropic Thunder. He introduces the role as that of an American actor playing an Australian actor playing an African-American guy. And he screams to Robert, "Pls leave the black roles for our brethren." Funny! But by now, the whole world knows that the award just has to go to Heath Ledger. So none of the other nominees even care to give an anticipatory act for the cameras sake. The Ledger family comes on stage to collect the awards. My eyes well up again. Many in the audience are sniffling.

Next are the music awards, and what I have been looking forward to for most of the night. Rahman wins his first award for the best score. And he is really humility personified on stage. Probably the movie is a reflection on his life as well, a rags-to-riches tale, someone who has really gotten where he is only by his hard work and determination. This is indeed a recognition long due for someone as talented as the 'Mozart from Madras'. He says "Mere paas maa hai", in reference to his mother who accompanied him to the awards show and then says in Tamil "Ella pughalum iraivanuke (All glory and fame is to God)". How Indian of him to dedicate his award to maa and bhagwan! I am beaming with pride at the Indianness of the moment.

Next a group of garish pink dressed girls run onto stage unexpectedly and begin dancing to loud dhol beats, when I realize that they are dancing to the tune of O Saaya, ringing in the next category for Best Original Song. Rahman sings well and really kicks ass in the next performance for 'Jai Ho' with the loud yellow salwar kameez clad girls, dunno their names. When his name is announced again as the winner for Jai Ho, he says "I always had a choice between love and hate in my life. And I chose love and I am here" How original and how true! How refreshing too!

Next Danny Boyle is awarded the best director for "Slumdog Millionnaire". He could as well be dancing with Shilpa, John and Abhishek to Shut Up and Bounce when he received the award, he literally bounced up and down systematically thrice on stage before coming on to the mike. "My kids are too old to remember this now, but when they were much younger, I swore to them that if this miracle ever happened, that I would receive it in the spirit of Tigger from 'Winnie the Pooh.'" He really seems like a 50+ year old child.

Next comes my best part of the evening. The Best Actress award. Like everyone I am rooting for Kate Winslet. Now who doesn't like her? She is sweet, too honest, too original, and too curvy not to be liked. And I really love her since I saw her blue-haired "The Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind". Here's Sophia Loren, Shirley MacLaine, Halle Berry, Nicole Kidman and last year's winner, Marion Cotillard, to present the best actress Oscar. Suddenly this induction of a new member into the mutual-admiration society doesn't look too tiresome. It's for Kate, and only Kate, and God knows how much she deserves all this and much more. MacLaine tells Anne Hathaway she's going to win more awards, and, "By the way, I think you have an extraordinary voice." Hathaway sobs and says, "Thank you, I love you!" As Hathaway's chins quiver, I am openly weeping. What is wrong with me? The moment is kind of lost when Sophia Loren refuses to let go of her tea-pot pose while introducing Meryl Streep, but it still sustains. And then, Kate Winslet wins the best actress! Now I am openly crying and hiding my face behind a news paper, so that my mom doesn't see me weeping for some girl winning a statuette. She is a hard core Shobana fan, and doesn't really care for anyone else. She does ask though "Isn't that the girl from Titanic?" This is too much for me to handle, my mom knows my favorite actress. I am sniffling openly. And there Kate goes on to break my floodgates of tears, when she says "Dad! I wish I knew where you were seated so that I could see you. Pls whistle or something"...and Phewhoo! goes the sound of a whistle somewhere in the auditorium and all heads turn to see the Dad who inspired this beautiful and so deserving Best Actress.

As if this was not enough, Robert De Niro, Ben Kingsley, Anthony Hopkins, Adrien Brody and Michael Douglas appear onstage. "How did he do it?" asks Robert De Niro. "How, for so many years, did Sean Penn get all those jobs playing straight men?" Uproarious laughter. I had just watched Milk yesterday, and the weepie that I am, had cried even in the theatre when the end credits were rolling. What a powerful performance! I am rooting for Sean Penn to win the award, though I know that most of the world wants Mickey Rourke, the comeback kid to win it. And when Sean ia announced the winner for the award, I let out a gleeful, victorious "Yes!", as if I am together in this fight with Sean. "You commie, homo-loving sons of guns!" he gushes from the podium. "I did not expect this, and I want it to be very clear that I do know how hard I make it to appreciate me, often." Still crying, my tear ducts are poised for a fresh torrent. And there he goes "I think that it is a good time for those who voted for the ban in gay marriage to sit and reflect and anticipate their great shame and the shame in their grandchildren's eyes if they continue that way of support. We've got to have equal rights for everyone."

And of course, lastly Slumdog Millionaire wins the best Movie award. And like Alice lost in wonderland, the Zubinas and the Azhars rush onto the stage, and the whole world breaks into a standing ovation for the message that last act of the event is portraying. How there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow! How there are still hopes and dreams in this world full of despair! How everyone is happy for the kids and the city that the kids are from and the country that the kids are from, how it is such a fine example for everything that is worth hoping for in this world! Jai Ho! And cheers to the sincerest and most heartfelt Oscars I have ever seen.

Dev D.

I saw Dev D. yesterday. One of the best Indian movies I have ever seen. There are many brilliant scenes in the movie, but there are some that are just stuck in my mind. So much so that I had to write about them:

1) Dev, tipsy and dopey legged gets into a bus. He sits besides a middle-aged woman. The woman gives him the suspicious, judgmental look that women and men that age and above save exclusively to be thrown with venom at young girls and guys. He reeks of alcohol and grass. The woman covers her nose disgustedly with her yellow dupatta. As with Indian women and men that age and above, she considers it her bounden duty to offer him unsolicited advice on how to conduct every aspect of his life, undeterred by lack of qualification, expertise or experience. Dev continues giving her a blank stare and there when I was expecting an outburst from him asking her to shut up, he goes on and does something very startling. I am still laughing.

2) With his addictions, Dev has lost so much weight that he fits into a medium sized bucket, where he is seated and Chanda is scrubbing him with a loofah.

3) Chunni, who is Chanda's pimp with a heart of gold, has a white wife. She just has a single scene where she opens up the door when Dev knocks on it. It is left to the viewer to figure out how Chunni ends up with a white wife. Most probably one of his lays who he had taken up as a wife later on.

4) The bandmasters are rendering 'Emosanal attyachar' in the background. They are playing the band for Paro and Bhuwan's shaadi ki baaraat. As the song reaches a crescendo, Paro forgetting the Indian bride's suggested behaviour of self-restraint, gives in to the music and begins dancing with gleeful jhatkas. After a while, she realizes her folly and gets back to the Indian bride act, with a sheepish grin.

5) Paro cycling to the fields with a mattress on her cycle, the mattress being where she plans to lay Dev.

6) Chanda is extremely upset that her suicidal father killed himself rather than holding her in his hands and saying a few words of consolation. At exactly that moment, Dev takes her in his hands and says exactly those words.

There are very many small gems like these in the movie, which I can go on writing about. The movie is abso*#$@ingly brilliant. Must must watch! Hats off to Anurag Kashyap.