Narcissists insist their birthdays are the #1 day of any year. Christmas non-haters hold dear their belief that the holiday season is the very definition of “the most wonderful time.” Personally, I’m pretty fond of the day Lisa and I got married.
But let’s face it: Oscars – insert trademark here – trump all, every year…at least for me.
Both the vintage and the contemporary Academy Award season—insert trademark here—starts just after Thanksgiving, with the release of what the studios consider their big prestige pictures. Once upon a time, from the '30s through the '60s, the competition was among the six or eight major studios. That ended with the rise of the independent productions of the '70s forward. Today the selections are a hodgepodge of Hollywood product, American indie-prods and international cinema.
Hyperbole pours like molten metal for the next several weeks, coating potential nominees in gold-plated accomplishment, as the days count down towards the AMPAS—insert trademark here—announcement of contenders, a 5:30 a.m. event.
Then the horses take off full speed, headed for the gate, which in this case is 6 p.m. Sunday February 24.
Some 57 hours earlier, however, is my deadline: 9 a.m. Friday February 22. That’s when Lisa and I will be making our tenth annual appearance on Honey Harris’ “The Big Show”—insert trademark here-- psyching out our take on the winners, sending our vocalized predictions out into the ether, which will then travel through space forevermore, unchangeable.
It’s a heady responsibility.
So please tune in Friday morning (KBAC-FM 98.1 Radio Free Santa Fe) to see what we have to say.
(Hint: “Argo.” I can reveal no more.)
Brought to you in part by The Screen.