The TV Zone

Let’s face facts. The Oscars are broken. Last night’s nearly four-hour snoozer -- er, broadcast -- proves that.

Here’s our (free) advice for the folks at the Academy Awards, who clearly have no idea how to stage a TV show that doesn’t run an hour past its scheduled end time and bore us all to tears.

First, don’t start the show with the award for art direction. Start with something we care about. (What happened to the tradition of presenting a supporting actor statue here?) And second, don’t follow that dud with clips of some previous ceremony for technical awards even you don’t care enough about to hand out at The Big Show.

Throughout the show, please -- let the winners speak! We’re here to see who gets which award, and what they have to say in their moment of glory, even if it involves thanking Aunt Martha. Especially if it involves thanking Aunt Martha. That’s revealing and human and real.

As opposed to, say:

* Endless montages of film clips. What the heck was that thing that started the show? Sound bites of unnamed (largely unknown) nominees before a white screen babbling disjointed Oscar reactions pieced together “cleverly” by some editor? The initial viewer tuneout (this thing lasted five minutes!) must have been astronomical.

* The wandering host. Don’t send even the appealing Ellen DeGeneres out into the audience to “amusingly” shmooze, not when time’s a-wastin’. And especially not with aging directors whose wives have to lean over and explain to them what’s happening.

* Dance routines. OK, the Pilobolus thing of shadowed dancers’ bodies coming together to form the shape of an Oscar or a penguin (representing the movie “Happy Feet”) was ingenious. We would have loved these interjections if their added length hadn’t contributed to cutting off nominee speeches and running the show well past midnight.

* Yet more film clips. The show’s already running waaaay late, and we get clip packages of foreign films from the 1950s. Remotes all over the country start clicking. Then, at literally the eleventh hour, we get another round of vintage snippets, illustrating music -- music! -- from lifetime award winner Ennio Morricone. Who then speaks Italian in his acceptance which has to be dutifully (and agonizingly slowly and semi-coherently) translated by an aging director. As our own lifetimes slip away . . .

* Awards placement. Back to our first gripe. The already overlength show is approaching midnight and you’re only giving out the editing Oscar. Editing? You think we stayed up late for that?

* “Just being nominated is award enough.” Last night’s pathetic running attempt to honor “all” the nominees was sooo lame. If that’s enough reward, why did it take four freaking hours to dole out the actual statues?

* The backstage guy. We don’t tune in to hear some shmoe with a mike backstage tell us what’s been happening in the show (we’re watching it, OK?) and then muse about how we’re doing in the office Oscar pool. It’s midnight, people! We just wanna know who won.

I could go on and on.

But why be like the Oscarcast?

[You were probably asleep by this point:
Ennio Morricone and translator Clint Eastwood in ABC photo by Craig Sjodin.]