Is it too late to do an Oscar recap post? It is, huh? Well, alright. I'll skip my commentary on the varyingly successful degrees to which Ellen's folksy daytime schtick translates to a big fancy glamourfest, or how they really should have saved the Ferrell/Black/Reilly number until later in the show when they really needed it, or how creepy it is that Reese Witherspoon keeps showing up at events looking exactly like me. What was really significant to me about this year's awards, anyway, was the fact that I'd actually seen the winner of the Best Picture Oscar. Before it came out on DVD, even. As a new parent, that's a major milestone. We've spent the last three years trying to Netflix our way through every nominee from 2003 on (The Constant Gardener is currently languishing away in its envelope atop the TV).
Of course, with a summer baby on the way, we're about to dive back into the pool of pop cultural ignorance. I have hope that the little one will still be meatloafy enough to slip unnoticed into theaters for a few months, but that will only get us through the big blockbuster season. And unless Spiderman 3 has a secret subplot involving a parapalegic FBI informant, I don't think we'll be as lucky next year.