Jon and Oscar....Sitting in a Tree....

Jon and Oscar...Sitting in a Tree...

Boy, how’s that for a bland film title? Anyway, while I digest the nominations (or regurgitate as the case might be or frequently is), I'd like to discuss the earth-shattering “announcement” that Jon Stewart will be the host of this year’s Academy Awards broadcast on March 5 (“Desperate Housewives” interrupted?1?!?!? Oh, the HORROR!!!!!!)

Until Hollywood gets over its’ 10-years-and-counting complete creative slump, they might as well have a trained monkey do the opening monologue. The only real topic anybody wants to hear on the subject for now is who is going to do the red carpet interviews for the preceding fashion show (the Rivers duo for TV Guide; Ryan Seacrest getting the job on E! replacing that, um, end result of bottling a nation’s flatulence in a tanker, Star Jones.)

The show itself will be DOA even before the nominees are announced. Somehow, somebody has gotten the idea that ratings can be driven based on who is the host. Not that there’s ever been a statistical correlation to support this. In reality, you just want somebody who can deliver a funny monologue. And funny should not mean “in a way to keep the celebrities egos in check”. I mean, seriously, would stars not want the seats if they were not pandered to? They live for adulation. Even in a bad year, you get about 700 million worldwide viewers. That’s plenty of publicity automatically. So why the Bruce Villanch-penned “safe” material? If the producers wanted to jack up the ratings by about 50 percent, they don’t need big star nominees or populist non-cringe-inducing movies. They need good comics who get the full authority to let it rip – not Chris Rock neutered (a shame because Chris Rock and David Letterman would, otherwise, have been the best selections since Johnny Carson quit the duties.)

And why do I have to hear every year about why Billy Crystal declined? I don’t give two hoots about why he can’t do it but more than about whom the idiot was who asked him to do it in the first place. Here’s a guy who’s acting and comedic abilities went dead some time around 1988. His song medleys about the Best Picture nominees were always juvenile, blasé, or both. If anybody thinks songs are funny, fine – then give the job to Trey Parker and Matt Stone. You don’t think a billion viewers would kill to see Eric Cartman rip Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise to shreds?

Prediction? Can you say "Milquetoast"?

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