2.3.04

Thankfully this year the Academy showed they could have got their decisions a lot more wrong. Clean sweep for Return of the King, recognition for a fine actor in Sean Penn, and relatively easy on the saccharine.

Even so, Sunday night's Oscars ceremony posed more questions for me than it answered:

Just how much did Sir Ian McKellen have to drink before agreeing to be interviewed by a BBC reporter while swaying backwards and forwards, doing what looked very much like a potty dance, and insisting that Return of the King had won not 11, but 27 Oscars?

Exactly, scientifically, how good did Scarlett Johansson look? And how come Sean Connery got to sit next to her?

How empowering was it to see Peter Jackson not making too much of an effort to fit in with the LA types?

Why did Tim Robbins and Sean Penn, usually voices of Hollywood's conscience, give politics a bodyswerve?

Just how much did they spend on that opening montage with Billy Crystal in the movies? And does it mean we're saved from Charlie's Angels 3?

Please can Liv Tyler wear glasses more often? Please? I'd gladly pay.

Why was Michael Douglas wearing those ridiculous shades when his wife CZJ was on stage?

Can Sofia Coppola be sure that she won't be the last, as well as the first, American woman to be nominated for Best Director?

Does Chris Penn ever think he might have chosen his roles badly?

Will I ever get over Susan Sarandon?

Did Tobey Maguire hope that beard would get him mistaken for a Hobbit?

Could Bill Murray have looked more pissed off when not winning the Best Actor award?

When Billy Crystal thanked all the servicemen and women around the world, did he remember to include the ones 'liberating' Haiti as he spoke?

And most importantly... what about the rum?

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