Oprah Winfrey is apparently the favourite to win the best supporting actress Oscar for her underwhelming turn in The Butler. If you’re prone to vomiting at the sight of schmaltz, you don’t want to be in the room when the sycophants get up to give her an underserved ovation. She’s had half the Academy on her sofa at one point or another –the gong is in the goodie bag.
I learnt this from my brother Angus who is over for two days on a mission to win the Globe quiz, celebrate his birthday, and catch up with family – strictly in that order, so he won’t be hanging around for Children’s Half-Term to do the ‘ulterior motive for coming’ uncle routine.
Shame, as he would have been tempted to see a big name like Bob Dylan. “See ‘em before they’re dead” has always been his mantra, but I’ve never been too bothered by the thought that I’ll never get to see someone who I can still listen to.
In the case of Dylan, I’ve never really got it. Wrong generation, wrong nationality – surely he’s a bloke who can’t sing who proper singers do vastly superior covers of. It’s not like I hate him and am going to hang around outside his local A&E department so I can “see him before he dies”, but his passing won’t resonate with me like other icons will.
At least he’s an original though. The plot of Adore, in which two women sleep with each other’s sons, sounds like it was generated by the nerds in Weird Science. Throw in a scratched DVD of Cougar Town, that worn-out picture of your best friend’s mom and your favourite yummy mummies, and hey presto.
The nerds would be better off going to the Geekcore Festival – a four-day sleepover for those who remember to bring their Star Trek sleeping bags. But they shouldn’t waste their time coming to the Globe quiz: with Uncle Angus in town, this one is in a safer bag than Oprah’s Oscar.
