The Oscars Sucked

But don't blame the writers

A Media Shmedia column

by Scott Patrick Wagner

In case you had any doubt about the value of writers, I still have this past Sunday's Oscar show on my DVR; watch it and know the true meaning of "stultifying."

I'm not the kind of person who watches the Academy Awards and then turns off the set going, "That was the worst Oscars show I've ever seen!" But this was the worst Oscars show I've ever seen. Apparently the producers had stockpiled an armada of aimless montages in case the writers' strike wasn't settled (since montages, as we all know, do not require writers but, rather, employ montagers). Now, the writers' strike was settled two weeks before the Oscarbuncle [carbuncle (n): a painful local purulent inflammation of the skin and deeper tissues with multiple openings for the discharge of pus]. Well, apparently two weeks isn't enough time for the inexorably plodding Oscarcinogens to change gears. Like the virulent opening salvos of a rectal carbuncle (do carbuncles come in rectal?), the montage mania pecked away at the intestinal tract of our good will and aesthetic sensibilities until we were left bleeding and pustulant on the grotty tile floor of the entertainment latrine. If not for the wit and style of host Jon Stewart, there wouldn't have been a single moment of respite from the off-putting onslaught of onerous awfulness. Really.

Getting back to writers — I'm not sure how I can put this without sounding coy (since there is a rumor that I, also, am a writer), but — writers rock. There would be no show without a writer. Your life would be an endless, mindless montage — without even a zippy narration — sans writers. Perhaps I have license to address this without seeming self-congratulatory since I'm now referring to film and TV writers, whereas I devote my non-Shmedia writing time to playwriting (and if you have aspirations in that direction, I'll be teaching an Intermediate Playwriting course at the Rubicon Theatre in Ventura starting on March 31 — you'll learn all sorts of things, including how to shamelessly self-promote in other media). There is an interesting subspecies of TV writer that has graduated from object of wary suspicion to valued team member: The Migrating Stand-Up Comic. Between Roseanne and Seinfeld, the stand-up who becomes a television star has gained respectability. And during this past drought, when we relied on television personalities who knew how to summon up their own material (e.g., Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert; don't e.g., Leno and Kimmel), the M-SUC ("em-suck") was elevated even further.

Take, for example, the half-hour debacle that aired just before the three-and-a-half-hour debacle of the Academy Awards. Regis Philbin hosted this pre-show, and spent his demi-hour upon the stage encouraging people to scream and go "whoo" (I'm serious. Literally.). His unscripted patter was so terrifyingly inane that I began having chilling premonitions of the Oscartastrophe that might follow. Then Jon Stewart came out (after a first vapid montage) and did a monologue that grew steadily more entertaining. The contrast between Philbin and Stewart was zebraic. That the show could not survive under the weight of Montages Gone Wild was not Stewart's fault, and he valiantly tried to share from his oxygen mask during the intermittent lulls in the vortex.

While I'm on the subject of Regis, let me say one more thing in praise of the em-suck. Jay Mohr is a very witty actor and former stand-up (check out the DVD box of the short-lived Fox series Action if you want a taste). When Regis was on vacation one week, Jay Mohr was brought onto That Morning Show Before The View (I know it has a name. Whatever.) and cohosted with Kelly Ripa. Well, the darnedest thing happened! Kelly came out of lick-Regis-booty mode, and the two of them created a few hours of the most diverting and gonzo banter I have encountered outside of premium cable. You're probably wondering why, if it was so good, Jay wasn't asked back to cohost with Kelly again. Well — actually, I think it's my fault. I was so elated by this combo that I (in my mild-mannered secret identity of Desirable-Demographic Consumer, and not as King of all Media Shmedia) sent an e-mail to the show and told them how great the pairing had been, and if they'd like to appeal to a demo younger than grandma they should replace Regis with Jay Mohr. And that was the last time we saw Mr. Mohr. (Sorry, dude.)

There are fantastic talents in all aspects of the entertainment media. Producers can be fantastic at what they do. But they can't be fantastic writers. It's hard to know if they got the message during this last walkout. But I've got their most "prestigious" awards show on my DVR, in case they need a reminder.