It’s that time of year, one of the biggest events in the world of entertainment will take place tonight. I will miss a good night sleep and I know it’s so not gonna be worth it. It’s the night of the Academy Awards. Back in the days when I went to drama school in Lowlands country me and my mates would organise sleep-ins. We would make are own predictions, which would earn you much respect if you got it right, diss the old farts who are the members of the Academy for their tame, lame and sometimes right out bad choices and criticise or praise acceptance speeches- criticise in most cases as that is much more fun to do. As time passed it became more difficult to catch the ceremony live as the broadcasting rights probably got too expensive and only the channels you have to pay extra for would transmit it, so I haven’t witnessed the spectacle live in years. But this year as I find myself in the periphery of the world I will be up all night checking out those frocks, scrutinising the speeches, see if there are any surprises and if the jokes of the presenters are any good. Long live satellite TV.
Some find me rather silly that I’m willing to stay up all night just for some old-fashioned, predictable Hollywood tripe, which seem to change very little from year to year. The frocks and bling might be expensive but on the whole the fashion tends to be very tame, undaring and often just plane boring. The a-bit-off-mainstream or the right-out-obscure seldom wins or gets nominated in the first place and not a lot of artists who do win can transform the magic of the silver screen into a sophisticated, inspiring speech. Perhaps that is exactly the appeal; its predictability. Massive spectacles like these, which are transmitted across the globe are not made to be daring, innovative, ground-breaking or world-changing. The Academy Awards ceremony is not about art, it’s about a billion-dollar industry kissing its own *ss. Millions of people feed of it and when people’s livelihoods and reputations are at stake there is no room for experiment. Change only when you must. And while I’ll be criticising the predictability and slickness of tonight’s ceremony, which is half the fun, I’ll keep on dreaming that my adapted novel, screenplay or producing efforts will one day win one (or more) of those golden boys. If you can’t beat them, join them. It’s good to dream, you know.