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Marie Kondo, megastars and masturbatory congratulation: my night at the Oscars

By Hadley Freeman

Twelve months of bewildering screw-ups from the Academy has left the show looking shaky – and even the Vanity Fair party might be on its way out

The question was not: would the Oscars be bad this year? For the past six months, and in particular the past six weeks, the question was: would this year’s Oscars be so butt-clenchingly, fist-gnawingly, eye-rollingly, hair-tearingly bad that the whole shebang would have to be burned in a garbage fire of shame?

Unlike the Chinese, the Oscars has always foolishly resisted naming its individual years, leaving their distinguishing signifiers to be decided by the merciless press and public. Thus, the 2012 Oscars was the Year of Angelina’s Leg. The 2006 Oscars was the Year Crash Beat Brokeback (which was widely deemed to be the worst-ever best film decision – until this Sunday night). The 2017 Oscars – well, let’s just say “envelope” and leave it there.

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Via:: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2019/feb/25/marie-kondo-megastars-and-masturbatory-congratulation-my-night-at-the-oscars