Lots of Hollywood trash to discuss, so let’s make like the Speaker of the House and tear into it.
Vogue. The apex of televised Hollywood excess has now passed with Sunday’s broadcast of the Academy Awards. I have to watch just to take note of specific ills worth a retrospective warning. As always, what passes as glamorous attire amazes me. Most glaringly, let me say to a certain Asian actress, Oh Dear. Then, if I’d been Billie Eyelash’s grandmother, I’d have never let her leave the house. Sister Wiig may have two “I”s in her name, but she didn’t have eyes to see a mirror before she left home. Sisters Monae and Warren made me want a baked potato. Finally, we need to pause for prayer for Billy Porter. I mean, really. That get-up needed a hat. Praise!
Venerable. I do enjoy seeing long-living women of Hollywood without having to view them during the In Memoriam segment. Sister Diane Keaton is still kicking and still wearing her wardrobe from Annie Hall. Clearly, though, her cognizance is in question. And I hate to speak well of Communists, but 82-year old Jane Fonda’s parade to the microphone made me push my TV tray aside and stand in respect. If only I’d have kept her exercise tapes………….
Vermin. Finally, I haven’t see PARASITE, but I find it hard to believe that a film about Korean people with intestinal vermin could have any redeeming qualities. Especially if I have to read subtitles! Guess I’ll have to grab the ladies in my Sunday School class and hop in the Rambler to actually go see it.