In an opinion that I'm sure will shock no one, I thought it was one of the most inept and pointless spectacles I've ever witnessed, and will, hopefully, kill the Oscarcast for the future.
There was almost nothing to recommend it. The format was dull, the speeches too long, and -- even moreso than usual -- had no reason to exist. While I certainly don't want the return of the Billy Crystal years, with lousy renditions of mediocre songs, forced banter, and skits, I also don't want a spectacle that has all the panache and verve of a presidential funeral.
Probably the most baffling part of the whole farrago was the music quiz, which would have been bad enough in any telecast, but really entered sore thumb territory because of its timing (2:40 into an interminable broadcast), and the decision to suddenly decide to do written material (And then it was -that-?).
Obviously, fate -- and the voters -- didn't play along with the intended finale, but there should have been a contingency plan. If Hopkins's presence was verboten because -- like any sensible octogenarian, he didn't want to sit in a London theatre in the middle of the night on the off chance he might win -- then there should have been a Plan B that went beyond Phoenix's more-baffled-by-life-than-usual signoff. (One of the many, many things that prove the ineptitude of the Oscars -- other than, yet again, choosing a mediocre-at-best film as the "best" -- is that Phoenix has one.)
While I did like the set design and attempt to keep things intimate, the processed video (described by Harry Shearer as looking like VHS) was pointless and ruined most of the effects.
I'm trying to somehow end this on a positive note, but I'll be damned if I can think of anything in the whole twelve hours of the telecast that worked.
--Dave Sikula