All This For A Golden Statue
What will you be doing this Sunday evening? With no Downton Abbey, shall we be bereft? Those of us who still grieve for Matthew Crawley certainly know the feeling.
But there is a solution! At least for this one Sunday evening you will find me on a couch in front of my kind sister's large flat screen. Glued to the Oscars. There I shall perch until the whole thing is over and Ellen collapses from exhaustion and everyone else heaves a huge sigh of relief.
My husband has never shared this Oscar anticipation with me. It baffles him. To forcibly endure the cacophony of voices along the Red Carpet, or the clever Monologue of the host, or the parade of presenters (a.k.a. readers) in strange looking gowns would, for him, constitute torture. Perhaps the very last Oscar ceremony he had a glimpse of was in 1974 when a Streaker ran across the stage in front of David Niven. It was enough.
But I have always been fascinated (though not in the Streaker of course). It would be such fun to walk down that red carpet in a golden dress and high heeled shoes. But for now I shall be content just to watch and be impressed by the gowns, and seeing George Clooney smiling politely at inane questions, and Julia Roberts enjoying another moment in the sun.
Of the 9 movies in the Best Picture category, I have seen only three. I'm sorry, but I could not bring myself to watch a lot of wolves or hustlers, or even a love affair with an App. However, the three I saw were interesting:
- 12 Years A Slave
We went from stunning outer space where an astronaut grieves for her little girl, to the beauty of Ireland, where a woman loses her little boy, to the wilds of the southern United States where a man has been abducted and torn from his wife and children. Each of these stories reminds us that our children, and the ability to be with them, is priceless.
I do not seem to be invested heavily in a whole lot else this go around, but I did think Frozen was a fantastic Animated Film. Anything my grandchildren adore is OK by me (I loved how the Moose stuck his tongue to the frozen pipe!), and 'For The First Time In Forever' is being constantly sung in our daughter's house. They always know when something is great.
And so, even though we won't be seeing Lady Mary or Mr. Molesley this Sunday, an awful lot of effort and work and intensity will be going into this awards ceremony. Things are working up to a fever pitch even as we speak. Just think of it! - the women are still being fitted for immense numbers of gowns, the men are feverishly applying their teeth-whiteners, and each are dearly hoping to look better than the next.
But none of them will ever hold a candle to Matthew Crawley.
See you along the way!
photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/mrmorodo/8641335910/">TempusVolat</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/">cc</a>
photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/picturewendy/5068766020/">PictureWendy</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/">cc</a>