Monday 03.08.2010 | 8:23 PM UTC

And the Winners Are: Surprise!

So at least this year’s Oscars were not quite as predictable as they can be. Many of the choices defied cynical attitudes towards the Academy. Which is not to say that all their choices this year made any fucking sense–but at least it wasn’t boring. There certainly were more head-scratching, cringe-inducing moments this year than any ceremony I can recently recall. And some welcome firsts transpired as the first woman won the Best Director award while Jeff Bridges finally got his due, Dude.

First off, go ahead and call me a heartless bastard, cause but I’m thrilled the Academy chose to steer clear of their typically pandering feel-good ways. Prescious took away only two awards (Best Supporting Actress/Best Adapted Screenplay) after nearly sweeping the Independent Spirit Awards. I had bet the farm at our Oscar pool that it would be also be picked for Best Picture and Best Actress. But as luck would have it, I tied for the Oscar pool win–and gladly traded money lost for justice won. For Best Picture at Least. Now, as to Best Actress… What. The. Fuck?

Now, I don’t want to take anything away from Sandra Bullock. She’s cute as a button, seems like a really cool chick I’d actually like hanging out with (cause, you know, she’s dying to hang out with me); and, in the right role, she can be convincing, fun and charming as all hell. I’m a fan. But The Blind Side? As if it were not offensive enough that this mother of all pandering films even got nominated for Best Picture. Does anyone else see the irony here? Precious, a film by and about the black community gets relatively snubbed while a film by white people about gun-toting white soccer moms giving an underprivileged black teen his first bed gets two nominations and a win??!! Gimme a fucking break. It’s irked and befuddled me enough to actually go see it ;-)

Cringiest Moment: What up with that crazy cock-blocking beeoch in the purple mumu? Stealing Roger Ross William’s thunder, the producer of Music By Prudence vulgarly sabotaged humble Roger’s acceptance speech for Best Documentary Short. I wanted to reach into the television and slap her. Hopefully someone back stage had a better opportunity.

Best Actor: And I’m talkin’ about the Dude here. About fuckin’ time for the brilliant and modest Jeff Bridges. That statue is really gonna tie the room together, man. ‘Nuff said.

Best Supporting Actor: I woulda driven to Hollywood and strangled someone, anyone I could find responsible if Christoph Waltz had been passed up. Whether you care for Tarantino or not (and if you don’t, do you even like the movies?) Inglorious Basterds is a must-see for Christoph’s hilarious, unnerving, pitch-perfect performance. If you haven’t already, run, don’t walk to this one.

Best Picture. Despite my indignance over the whole Blind Side thing (I never promised I’d be consistent here. This is my house, you live by my rules), I’m not entirely convinced Hurt Locker really was the best picture this year. It was good. It was relentlessly realistic. It was tense and relevant, chock full of sizzling performances. Loved the generous 30-second cameos by Guy Pierce and David Morse. And it’s definitely cool that Cameron’s ex-wife kicked Avatar’s little blue butt. But HL really wasn’t all that memorable as “great” war films go. Certainly not nearly as much as, say, Platoon, Apocalypse Now or the Deer Hunter. Frankly, the most memorable Best Picture nominee was unarguably District 9, the most intersting piece of filmmaking I’ve seen in years. And how cool would it have been to have an animated feature win Best Picture? Very cool. At least it floated off with Best Animated Feature.

Best Hilarity: How ’bout Ben Stiller as one of those rat-tailed blue thingies from Avatar? Can we agree that by now Stiller’s humor is so played. But last night? Bizzare. Acerbic. Inspired. Hilarious. Even hosts Steve and Alec managed to side-step the awards curse to tease a few laughs out of us (That’s Madame Helen Mirren, Steve).

So, all in all, this years Oscars? Best Yet? Ok, maybe not. I still think John Stewart’s helmsmanship a few years back qualifies for that. But at the very least, pretty, pretty, pretty…pretty good.