Notes on a very awkward Oscars night

What the 2007 Academy Awards lacked in rehearsed-entertainment value, they made up for in… What the 2007 Academy Awards lacked in rehearsed-entertainment value, they made up for in riveting moments of awkwardness, the kind that ensues when you cram hundreds of engorged Hollywood egos into a single auditorium and air them on live television.

For one, Oscar was pretty clear about who he didn’t have time for.

It was a sad sort of funny when costume designers and sound-effects specialists accepted awards with long-winded, fidgety thank-you lists, only to be cut off by tinkling piano music that gradually increased in volume. In cases where extreme intervention was necessary, microphones cut out or the cameras swooped away to commercial.

Similarly amusing were the jokes that died on presenters’ gleaming, painted lips. Either the celebrity audience found such jokes too risky to laugh at – notably, Ellen DeGeneres’ quip that “Without blacks, Jews and gays there would be no Oscars, nor anyone named Oscar” – or they simply weren’t moved to a proper guffaw.

Gwyneth Paltrow pouted through DeGeneres’ entire opening monologue. Eddie Murphy barely cracked a smile. Only Jack Nicholson threw his head back and laughed maniacally whenever the camera cut to him, sometimes when no joke had been told. Talk about a good sport.

Rachel Weisz presented the Best Supporting Actor award with a summary of the challenges each nominee faced in his respective role, remarking that Mark Wahlberg had to drum up the courage to “portray the sort of police officer who, in his youth, arrested him 25 times.” Wahlberg’s glare could’ve liquefied the golden statue he didn’t receive.

But the show didn’t stop at emotional pain: Viewers could catch glimpses of physical pain if they watched closely enough.

When “The Lives of Others” won Best Foreign Language Film, writer/director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck got so excited, he elbowed his wife in the windpipe as she tried to give him a hug. These were the simple, unadulterated pleasures viewers gleaned from the 2007 Oscars.

As far as awards themselves, most of the golden statues in major categories went to the predicted favorites. Helen Mirren easily swept up Best Actress for “The Queen,” dedicating her award to the austere monarch. Martin Scorsese won Best Picture and Best Director for “The Departed,” and Jennifer Hudson accepted her Best Supporting Actress statue for “Dreamgirls” with a highly emotional speech.

“If only my grandmother were here to see me now,” a tearful Hudson said. “She was a singer. She had the talent, but she never had the chance.”

However, some wins took the viewers by surprise. Alan Arkin’s Best Supporting Actor win for “Little Miss Sunshine” countered a wealth of critics who had predicted a statue for Eddie Murphy.

Similarly, Forest Whitaker took Best Actor for “The Last King of Scotland,” beating out a stunned-looking Peter O’Toole.

“Just a moment, take it in, OK,” sighed Whittaker, before reflecting on how far he’d come, noting how the passion for acting had struck him as a little boy.

A three-man directorial powerhouse of Steven Spielberg, George Lucas and Francis Ford Coppola announced Scorsese’s Best Director win, at which point the crowd leapt to its feet in a standing ovation.

In terms of the filler between award announcements, the 2007 Academy Awards alternately amused and disappointed, but mostly disappointed. The opening clip featured a haphazardly edited hodgepodge of actors, directors and other film officials sharing career details in front of a white screen. The montage’s entertainment value fell just behind that of the home-edited “O.C.” music videos 16-year-olds post on YouTube. It was cute when Leonardo DiCaprio gave a rough estimate of how many times he’s died onscreen, but not as cute when a sweaty sound technician pointlessly remarked that he “likes movies.”

The low point of the evening came about midway through, when a “Sound Effects Choir” attempted to amaze the audience with its ability to mimic difficult noises like