Oscar the grouch

Was it just a poorly produced show? Or was there an axe murderer cruising the aisles on Oscar night?

For some reason, any time the cameras panned the auditorium overflowing with silk, tulle and sequins, the lens found a deeply perplexed expression on just about everyone's face - as though people were being bumped off and carried off in burlap sacks during the commercial breaks.

And that was the good part of the worst Oscar broadcast in recent memory.

At least being carried off in a burlap sack is a close thematic relative of being an Oscar nominee who walks away from the intersection of Hollywood and Vine empty-handed: The minute the winner's name is announced, those close-up headshots of the also-rans are removed from the screen, never to be seen again for the rest of the night.

The visual guillotine fit the mood of the off-kilter night - unlike the bizarre interpretive dance number in the middle of the show featuring hoofers in cardigans, and the glowing wall of lampshades, engineered perhaps to ensure everyone had the right headwear for the after-parties.

The production didn't hit a single mark. Every camera cue was off, and just about every presenter's teleprompted spiel spiralled into smoking wreckage - save for the brilliant and well-timed chatter between Tina Fey and Robert Downey Jr., who had the best line of the night when he said Hollywood is really a collaboration between "handsome, gifted people and sickly mole people."

Oscar night is the one time when the mole people get their due, and they showed their pink snouts en masse when you least expected it - like the dude sitting behind Helen Mirren during her homage from Michael Sheen, and that obnoxious red-headed broad in the purple tarp (apparently she's a former Miami Herald reporter turned producer) who decided she would seize the mic and assert the acceptance speech of record for best documentary short.

And speaking of awkward, was that the first time Molly Ringwald has stepped in front of a camera after a two-decade absence? The former ingenue couldn't wipe the deer-in-the-headlights look off her face as she delivered a tribute to John Hughes.

At least with the swarms of former Hughes collaborators in the audience, and on stage, the farewell to the man who marked a generation of cinematic maturation came together without any memorable missteps.

If anything, it suggested a great idea for a new talk-show tag team: Ally Sheedy and Kristen Stewart (who later presented the tribute to horror movies) could be the answer to Oprah's departure. They could have their very own talk show - where you don't really have to talk, just fidget nervously.

In many ways, the Hughes moment marked a passing of a generational torch as many of the Academy's old ways were finally put to rest - starting with the celebration of big box office over quality art.

Avatar's loss to The Hurt Locker proved the new weighted voting system, and the larger field of contenders, created open terrain in the crowded landscape and gave members a chance to vote with their hearts.

The shift clearly surprised everyone, including Tom Hanks, who appeared to be thrown on stage at the last minute to close the show without even recapping the nominees for best picture - as well as the best-director winner, Kathryn Bigelow, who was already making her way backstage when she was yanked back in front of the footlights.

With matching Oscar barbells in her mitts, Bigelow offered up the perfect mix of humility and gratitude as she urged for a safe and speedy return of American troops from the Middle East.

Bigelow's win for best director was hard evidence of a sea change, and the glamazon wore her history-making sash with an elegance that matched the "moment of a lifetime."

Women were front and centre all night long, and there was a sense the boys' club was finally ebbing, along with the Weinstein's Oscar mojo.

From Mo'Nique's monolithic performance in Precious, and her supposedly "non-political" win, to Sandra Bullock's tongue-in-cheek comment about being Meryl Streep's lover, the women in the audience didn't kowtow to any prefab notions of femininity - if you don't count beauty aids such as corsets and double-sided tape.

Bigelow's double-whammy win may just be a one-off, and things could revert to their predictable shape next year, but for all the chaos of a poorly produced Oscar telecast, the 82nd Academy Awards will go down in history as a turning point.

Not only was it the first time a female stood front and centre in the closing frames, it's one of the rare occasions where the best film actually won. One can only wonder what will happen next year, but if this line of evolution continues, Sean Penn could end up just being emcee.

kmonk@canwest.com