Carol’s Column

Forgive my yawn as the cliché-crunchers take over

Monday night's lengthy look at the Oscar Academy Awards ceremony on TV had it all, squeals, snot-en-trane, sex and brilliance. But if you think it was over the top, forget it. It's nothing to what we can expect during the coming months as we approach our general election.

There was drama and passion, excitement and joy. I mean, what could have been more delightful than watching exuberant Italian director and actor Roberto Benigni embrace the dazzle and glitz that is Hollywood's premier film occasion as he collected his awards for the best actor and best foreign film categories for Life is Beautiful?

A somewhat acerbic Whoopie Goldberg was suitably irreverent and was welcome relief when gushes of sentiment threatened to wash the proceedings away.

There was controversy when veteran director Elia Kazan was called up to receive the Life-time Achievement Oscar. A fine film-maker perhaps - but this is the man who denounced fellow actors, directors and playwrights as communists during the US's reprehensible McCarthy era.

By this treachery, he ruined countless lives, depleted America of some of its finest creative talent and as a collaborator to this shameful period, had to be partly accountable when those named lost everything and in despair, committed suicide.

There was tedium too. The endless lists from overwhelmed winners ... "I want to thank Boris, Beecham, Brendan, Morton, Beverley, my Aunty Myrtle on the East Coast, Grandfather Tickle and my dog Persephone without whose loving support I would not be here today."

I would probably have given the best actress award to Cate Blanchett for her brilliance as Elizabeth in the film of that name, rather than to Gwyneth Paltrow for her role in Shakespeare in Love. I felt my choice vindicated when watching Paltrow waterly weep her way through her acceptance. According to Paltrow, it was not her unquestionable talent but her grandfather who was ultimately responsible for her winning an Oscar. Naturally.

My cynical psyche might have twitched with horror at some on-stage happenings, but largely, I enjoyed the sheer spectacle and entertainment of Hollywood's 1999 Academy Awards.

Which brings me to our approaching election. The Great Debate has already started. The one between opposing parties, politicians, supporters, entrenched cabinet ministers and those who want their jobs, existing members of Parliament and those who wish to whoosh them away and take their place.

Political rhetoric is in full flow and good grief, we still have more than two months before the day of the crunch. The day on which, if you are in possession of a bar-coded ID book, you can go and place your cross beside the candidate you feel will make a difference.

Already news is becoming less newsworthy as nightly, we watch politicians adjust their carefully chosen colour-coded TV-friendly outfits, brush a hand casually through their styled hair, look us squarely in the eye and tell us sincerely (yes, it is an oxymoron) how they will better, butter, batter (take your pick) our lot next time round.

I hadn't realised we had so many worthy people either in government or trying to get there.

Bill Clinton’s Monica affair might not have been everyone's glass of beer, but at least it was entertaining and at times, downright funny. And it perked up the coming American elections.

Here we're in cliché-trotting-out-mode: Visions for the Future, Democracy for All, A Fair and Free Society for all, A Roof over Every Head, The Fight Against Crime. The effusion is endless and hell, it's excruciatingly boring.

I like Thabo Mbeki, he has a bright smile and I like Tony Leon, he has naughty eyes but given the choice, I'd rather watch Whoopie Goldberg any time.

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