“As you all know by now, this is the 51st annual Academy Awards. Two hours of sparkling entertainment spread out over a four-hour show.”
⁓Johnny Carson
I love the Oscars. I know, I know. They can be long and annoying (or as Vincent Canby so eloquently said, they hold “the solemnity of the annual Nobel ceremonies in Stockholm with the cheerful bad taste of the grand opening of a shopping center in Los Angeles.”) While I agree with Mr. Canby, I still can’t get enough. I like to see who’s wearing what and I love movies—I’ve watched the Academy Awards ever since I can remember.
Although last night’s telecast didn’t quite hold as much precedence as years past, it proved to be a nostalgic evening in the Kauffman/Morfoot household. Seven years ago my husband Ross and I were full of glitz and glam ourselves. Actually, Ross was full of glitz and glam—me, not so much. Ross walked the red carpet outside the (then) Kodak Theater in a newly purchased Gucci tux, chatted with Joan Rivers, and later that evening accepted an Oscar for Best Documentary Feature. The statue now sits (slightly crooked) on a bookshelf in our den. I also went to The Academy Awards that year. No, I was not Ross’s date, I was working in the press room, backstage with my fellow haggard journalists wearing the same dress I’d worn to my senior prom. (You can read all the juicy details in an piece I wrote for Marie Claire about the night HERE.)
In subsequent years, living in New York, Ross and I have continued to celebrate the movie industry’s biggest night. Because of Ross’s documentary work and my freelance Variety assignments, we’ve found ourselves partying on Oscar night in some exciting ways: sipping “Atonement” champagne at Elaine’s next to celebrities, drinking “Juno & Juice” gin cocktails at the Spotted Pig, chatting with Martin Bregman about Dog Day Afternoon at an Academy member’s party in some swanky hotel. Then, last January, our son Harry arrived and Oscar festivities took a backseat. If I remember correctly, last year we fell asleep before Jeff Bridges handed Natalie Portman the statue. This year, the red carpet had to wait—Harry likes his routine: 6:30 dinner, 7:00 bath, and 7:30 bedtime. After that I made a broccoli dish while Ross grilled a steak. When dinner was ready and we could finally rest, we settled in on the couch and turned on the tube just in time to see Billy Crystal’s opening monologue.
Although jeans and t-shirts replaced my prom dress and Ross’s Gucci tux, I can’t say that I would change anything about this year’s Oscar celebration. Unlike years past, when I was hobnobbing with the industry’s elite, this year I got to relax, let my hair down, and take it all in. I was able to enjoy the show for once (or at least the first two hours). It was a nice break from the chaos. That said, I hope to return to the Oscars someday wearing something a tad more elegant than my prom dress.
Addie Morfoot is a freelance journalist at Daily Variety and is finishing her MFA in creative writing at The New School. Last year, her world turned upside down when she gave birth to her son Harry. Each Monday, she writes about juggling work, school, marriage, and motherhood in the Big Apple.
Kennedy
‘and later that evening accepted an Oscar for Best Documentary Feature. The statue now sits (slightly crooked) on a bookshelf in our den’ What was the name of Ross’ doc:)?