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My Emotions!: The Roller Coaster of the 2017 Oscars

In between crying, screaming, rolling my eyes so far back into my skull I thought I was going to pull a nerve and writhing in agony on my couch/regurgitating out the entire contents of my body (horrific stomach virus FTW), it was indeed a long Oscar night for me.

Let’s get one thing straight, I was in no mood for any nonsense and what we got was some insane nonsense. So, the following is probably all going to sound really callous and I am deeply unapologetic about that. 

Before the show, as always, is the red carpet. Let’s get judgey (and please ignore these weird photo crops. It is 2 in the morning and I have no idea how to fix them. Thanks, dear reader).

Getty Images / Frazer Harrison

Kirsten Dunst is reviving my lifeless, dehydrated body with this look.

Getty Images / Frazer Harrison

The glo-up of Dev Patel is the most important thing to ever happen.

Getty Images / Kevin Mazur

We are blessed by Ruth Negga‘s existence as a human. She is brilliant in Loving and she is serving so much here. It’s Valentino! She is wearing a tiara! She has the most delightful Irish accent! She has an ACLU ribbon! I love this woman. 

Getty Images / Frazer Harrison

Raf Simons (formerly Dior, now at Calvin Klein) outfitted these three perfect people of Moonlight. They are heroes.

Getty Images / Kevin Mazur

Kirstin Dunst brought me life, and Janelle Monáe regaled in and slayed me.

Getty Images / Kevin Mazur

A Study in Riz AhmedMore Men Should Wear Coloured Tuxes.

Getty Images / Frazer Harrison

Yes. Yes. Yes. Perfection in blue velvet. 

Getty Images / Kevin Mazur

Sunny Pawar is all “Jacob Tremblay can suck it.”

Getty Images / Frazer Harrison

Fairly certain Isabelle Huppert is younger than me; she is serving face for days. She also deserves an Oscar just for having to feign interest while talking to Ryan Seacrest on the red carpet.

The show started out with Justin Timberlake singing that insipid song from that movie about trolls. I audibly said, “This is not an NBC live musical. What am I watching even?” I also spattered out a string of F-words like Colin Firth in The King’s Speech. Sans-expletives it was something like, “This is guttural and awful and 2017 is the year of watching people dance mediocrely and me being told I am supposed to be okay with it.” Keep it.

Then, host Jimmy Kimmel had a nice little political bit about healing and bringing people together, before digging into his lifelong enemy Matt Damon. He then thanked our president by citing, “Remember last year when we thought the Oscars were racist?” and “this year, black people save NASA and white people save jazz.”

The “overrated” Meryl Streep then received “a totally undeserved” standing ovation, a clear dig to 45.

We have fun here.

Then a very sunburnt Alicia Vikander sauntered out in the foulest black get-up I have ever seen to award Best Supporting Actor. (I am assuming she was vacationing on the Amalfi Coast with her beau Michael Fassbender. Besides her Oscar, the fact that she gets to tap that on the regs is still her most incredible accomplishment.)

Obviously, the incomparable and perfect Mahershala Ali (the first Muslim actor to win an Oscar) took the award. I wanted him to win desperately, but a small part of me wanted it to go to Michael Shannon for his work in Tom Ford’s Nocturnal Animals just to hear him give, what would surely be, a bananas and brilliant speech.

However, Mahershala is truly magical. Granted he’s married, and just welcomed a baby girl a few days ago, but my greatest sexual fantasy is one day owning a vineyard in the Alsace region of France with him. Plus, his performance in Moonlight is gorgeous.

Suicide Squad won for Best Make-up and Hairstyling. So, this banal movie has an Oscar and Jackie has none. I adore it as unabashedly as every Canadian I have ever interacted with loves USA’s Suits. Ironically, I do not personally know any people from the USA who watch that show. But anyways, Jackie is my new Carol, and the Academy can just disband, honestly.

Then, Colleen Atwood (thankfully) won Best Costume Design for Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. I was so happy to see La La Land lose (because those weren’t costumes. They were just clothes that weren’t even as cute as the ones hanging in my closet); but Fantastic Beasts ends with Colin Farrell turning into Johnny Depp, and if that isn’t something from the depths of my nightmares I am not sure what is.

The 3 fabulous stars of Hidden Figures welcomed the woman who Taraji P. Henson played in the film, Katherine Johnson. No you’re crying.

They awarded Best Documentary Feature to OJ: Made in America. Well, okay. It is truly fascinating and incredible. That being said, it is over 7 hours long and played in episode format on ESPN last spring. It is sort of unfair that it was up against normal feature-length docs. It was super fantastic though, so I am conflicted! My life is so hard!

Bringing me back to some happiness and joy, Lin-Manuel Miranda was rapping (as he is obligated to do legitimately everywhere he goes) before the song from Moana was performed by a legitimate Disney princess, who kept performing even after she got smacked in the head by a bolt of fabric, Auli’i Cravalho. Hey Emma Watson, who cannot sing worth a damn and somehow sounds more British when sings, take notes.

Sorry, girl. But I cannot stop vomiting up any and all liquids somehow still trapped in my repulsive body between typing sentences, so nobody is safe from my drags.

Jimmy Kimmel then commanded candy to fall from the skies, and I am sure Isabelle Huppert was in the corner rolling her eyes and chain-smoking expensive French cigarettes.

Best Sound Editing went to the brilliant Arrival. The man accepting said Amy Adams was a “profound actress” and “all we need is love.” Well put.

Best Sound Mixing went to Hacksaw Ridge, a film which I refuse to see because Mel Gibson is literal scum, and I exuberantly shrieked “yes!” because La La Land lost. The fact that that movie was even nominated in these sound categories was criminal; the opening number alone is a mushy, spiritless disaster for the ears. I really hated La La Land, in case that wasn’t devastatingly obvious. Anyone who has been around me knows that 90 percent of conversations turn to me staring longingly out a window like a Downton Abbey character in a convalescent home, sighing, and uttering “f**king La La Land” in sheer discontentment and internal struggle.

Moving onto more positive things, a radiant Viola Davis breathlessly accepted Best Supporting Actress for her a-freaking-mazing performance in Fences. They filmed the movie 5 minutes from my house, so I am biased, but she was soul-shatteringly wonderful. She had snot coming out of her nose in one scene, if that doesn’t earn you an Oscar, nothing will.

Two of my personal heroes, Charlize Theron and Shirley MacLaine, presented Best Foreign Film to Iran’s The Salesmen. The film’s director, Asghar Farhadi, stood in solidarity with the people of Iran, and against the disgusting ban placed on immigrants from certain countries entering the US, by not attending the ceremony.

The only nominated foreign film I saw was the 3-hour German film Toni Erdmann. By mentioning the length of the film does not mean I did not like it, just that it was too long to be reading subtitles. There is a scene in that movie where someone eats a petit four after someone has… I don’t even know how to put this delicately (and normally I’d just say it because I never shy away from being crude, but my future employers might be reading this (Hey, guys!)). However, it was so gross I will never be able to enjoy a proper tea service ever again.

Unfortunately, my favourite foreign film of the year, Elle (starring the goddess Isabelle Huppert), was not nominated, pulling a Force Majeure-style upset. Elle was my favourite movie where someone masturbates to a Nativity scene. It is marvelous and I suggest you all watch it. The movie, not just the scene, you perverts.

Best Animated Feature Film went to the delightful, and important, Zootopia. The way this movie tackles racism and prejudice is emotional and brilliant. Yay for it!

Then, two people who definitely do not loathe one another and who totally have wonderful chemistry, Jaime Dornan and Dakota Johnson, presented La La Land with Best Production Design. What was a nice hour-long reprise from my projectile bile hurling was interrupted by that innocuous schlock winning its first award of the night. It did not help that they had just shown a tap dancing clip from the delightful Coen Brother’s film Hail Caesar!, which featured dancers with actual talent! Imagine that!

Jimmy did a bit where he brought in an entire tour bus full of tourists into the theatre. Jimmy made fun of one girl’s name, reminding us the enduring power of white male privilege. Sit the hell down.

Anyways, the people were not as shocked as I would have been, were all hideously dressed, and none of them even acknowledged Isabelle Huppert. “I really have fallen in love Isabelle Huppert” would be a great name for my memoirs. They did fawn all over Denzel Washington and Nicole Kidman, though. I one day hope to be as young as Nicole’s face is trying to be. Also, she has no idea how to clap for some reason?

Then a beautiful montage played where people from all over the world talked about the magic and universal language of movies. I was sobbing. Cinema is art! Everything is wonderful! People are being ripped away from their families across the country, but everything is fine!

Best Visual Effects went to The Jungle Book. Haven’t seen it. No opinion.

Seth Rogan and Michael J. Fox emerged from DeLorean to make some Hamilton references before presenting Best Film Editing to Hacksaw Ridge. Again, an exuberant and overtly loud “yes!” was flung from my mouth because La La Land lost another award. Mel Gibson can still GTFO, though.

Jimmy Kimmel came back from his questionable comment by lifting Lion star Sunny Pawar up as the soundtrack from The Lion King played and Lemonheads and Mike & Ikes fell from the skies. I guess? I don’t know. It felt tone-deaf to me.

Javier Bardem and Meryl Streep presented Best Cinematography to La La Land. K.

The scene in Moonlight in the ocean where Juan (Mahershala Ali) teaches Little to swim. That’s all. *Incredibly Miranda Priestly voice*

John Legend performed a medley of “City of Stars” and “Audition (Fools Who Dream)” from La La Land. I am curious if it is too late to have John rerecord the entire album. His sensual voice was somehow tricking me into thinking both those songs weren’t as unimaginative, tedious, and driveling as I previously thought? I feel confused at this moment. Leave me.

Ironically, Samuel L. Jackson presented Best Original Score to Justin Hurwitz for La La Land. I say “ironically” because Mr. Jackson shaded the hell out of La La Land in an interview, saying he could not even finish the film. Bless his soul. The score for Moonlight was stunning, and the score for Jackie was haunting and weird (just like that entire movie), so Gabby was not pleased.

Best Original Song went to “City of Stars” from La La Land and I am one million percent convinced those punk-ass Oscar voters did not even seen Sing Street. (But you can! It is on Netflix and magical and wonderful and features talented Irish children!)

Sara Bareilles sang Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides, Now” for the In Memoriam portion. It is the same song that played when Don Draper (Jon Hamm) brought his children back to the whorehouse in Pennsylvania where he grew up (Obligatory Jon Hamm reference. © 2017 Gabrielle Lee Gabauer). It was deeply melancholic. We lost so many wondrous people.

Best Original Screenplay went to Kenneth Lonergan to Manchester by the Sea, or as I have heard it called, White People Grief Porn. I freaking adored this movie; what a stunning and relatable display of how people deal with loss. I let out the loudest guttural “yes!” for this win.

Amy Adams, who walked out like “you jerks failed to nominate me, so I am going to look hot as hell,” presented Best Adapted Screenplay to the beautiful, emotional Moonlight. I am a mess. So happy. So deserved. Fin.

Oh wait. There are more awards? Alright, I guess.

Damien Chazelle (La La Land) won Best Director. Ugh. If I wanted to pay 10 dollars to see white people display their mediocrity I would go to a suburban high school’s all-white production of The Wiz.

Best Actor went to Casey Affleck, a sexual assailant, for Manchester by the Sea. We have the same kind of horrendous person in the White House right now.

Things in 2017 are fine.

Best Actress went to Emma Stone, who agreed to play an Asian this one time and thought that was acceptable, for La La Land. Whatever. A white guy played me jazz music; where in the living hell is my Oscar?

And Isabelle Huppert is my religion and should have that award in her wonderful French hands. I will see myself out.

Guys, I am shaking as I type this. I cannot even contain myself to talk about Best Picture.

So, what happened? Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway confusingly looked down at the envelope that contained the name of the winner for a few extra seconds before shakily announcing that La La Land won Best Picture. A few people talked about how important the movie was as I angrily slammed def-jam style burns about it on my key-board, before this one dude was like, “Wait. We didn’t even win. This is a mistake Moonlight actually won,” then showed the envelope that said clearly who had won. 

I felt sort of bad at first for being so nasty about La La Land in the rest of my article above after this happened. However, during the aftershows, those involved were all patting themselves on the back for being the heroes of the night by giving the award to the film that actually won it. What? No. What happened to you was terrible, but don’t act like you did them a service when you just did the correct thing.

After the mix-up was sort of rectified, I literally started hyper-ventilating and screaming and weeping. I have never had such an intense, immediate reaction to a thing. I do not think I have ever cared this much about Best Picture, so why would they do this to me?

Holy god. I do not know how what happened even happened, and it was bizarre, but Moonlight needed this. I do not think I will ever recover from this roller coaster of emotions. Ever. I am shaken up. 

We are blessed by the existence of a film such as Moonlight, a story of a life, a young gay, black man living in the slums of Miami with a crack-addicted mother. This win has proven we are not just who lives in the White House. Art is an important indicator of the beauty, acceptance, and glorious diversity of our country. And film sure as hell is art. #LateNightPoliticalGabbyI am exhausted and still really nauseous and overwhelmed. This has been a lot. I am both exuberant and confused!

For a full list of winners click here.

Image author’s own.

Originally from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Gabrielle is a fourth year student at McGill University. She watches a lot (some might say too much TV) and has gotten into screaming matches over movies. In her spare time, she enjoys being utterly self-deprecating. For clever tweets, typically composed by her favorite television writers, follow her twitter. For overly-posed (but pretending not to be) photographs follow her Instagram.
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