Leonardo DiCaprio Versus The Oscars

The Oscars are tomorrow. As always, I won't be watching. I would rather crawl over a mile of broken glass as opposed to watching that self congratulatory nonsense. That said, over the last couple of years I've written predictions on what might unfold during the ceremony. So some of what follows plays off previous years, in case you were wondering. Shall we begin?

At noon local time, outside the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood, hordes of fans will already be in attendance near the red carpet entrances, having had camped out for days on end. Apparently they have nothing to do with their days than spend it outside a performance studio hoping that their favourite star might hear them over the din of hundreds of other drooling nitwits screaming the same thing at other people. Bets will be passed back and forth as to if this will finally be the year Leonardo DiCaprio breaks his bad luck streak of not winning Oscars.

Hordes of entertainment reporters, vile fiends that they are, bereft of brains or dignity, will take up their positions on risers and select locations of the red carpet, preparing to send back breathless reports to their home shows, pretend that the Oscars are the centre of the universe, and annoy endless actors with the inane question, “so who are you wearing?”

Host Chris Rock, hours before the ceremony, will be looking over his notes, wondering if the Academy will invite him back after this year, considering how much he plans on bringing up the Oscars So White notion as a topic of conversation. He will also wonder if Leonardo DiCaprio will appreciate his remarks on the recent temper tantrum episode, or about his losing streak.

At his hotel room preparing for the evening, nominee Leonardo DiCaprio will have been dressed for hours, practicing his acceptance speech, telling himself that this year will be the year he finally wins that Oscar.

Marco Rubio will issue a statement while sneering, telling his supporters that “Hollywood has no idea what real American values are.” He will repeat that six times in two minutes before his handlers realize the RubioBot3000 needs reprogramming.

Donald Trump, still in traction but not letting that shut him up, will put in a call to FOX News demanding why no one’s paying attention to him. “I’m the greatest famous person in the history of the universe!” he will yell. “The greatest! The best! I am fabulous, tremendous, and spectacular! Shakespeare, Jesus Christ, Lincoln, Mother Teresa? Those stupid ass mother****ers got nothing on me! Wait, are we on? Because the ****ing public shouldn’t hear that. Don’t you ****ers quote me on that, you hear me????”

Bernie Sanders will miss the Oscars, since he sees the Oscars for the back slapping buffoonery that they are.

Ben Carson, trailing in the polls, will fall asleep while answering a question about who he thinks will win the Best Actor Award.

Hillary Clinton will be too busy to answer any questions about if she’ll be watching the Oscars, having had lost track of where her husband’s gone.

Somewhere in the Alberta foothills, legendary RCMP inspector Lars Ulrich, busy hunting down an actual suspect to kick around before putting the cuffs on him, will feel a profound sense of relief that for once, there are no entertainment reporters within a thousand kilometres of him.

Actors will start turning up early on, pasting on their biggest smiles while dealing with the inane questions from entertainment reporters. Some will be nominees. Others will be past winners. Some will be presenters. Still others wish they could get Oscar nominations, and yet have somehow managed to score invitations to the whole evening. Honestly, how does an overgrown man child like Adam Sandler show up at these things? Does he have blackmail material on a few choice Academy members? And who invited the supremely narcissistic Katherine Heigl plus her wife, the alternate reality Katherine Heigl?

The bear from The Revenant will issue a statement through a bear-to-English interpreter. “Why is there no Oscar for Best Performance By An Animal? I did some of my best work, and I might even say I’m a much better actor than that whiny prat DiCaprio. All he did on set all day was gripe about how no one will give him an Oscar.”

Barbra Streisand, having had miraculously survived a fall off a building after last year’s awards ceremony debacle, and despite not having made a film in four years, will show up demanding why she is not just given the Best Actress award by default. “I’m the greatest actress in history, if I could be so modest in just saying it. Do I have to start singing to get some attention? Because I will...” Anyone with taste in music will quietly back away from the Streisand Demon. The producers will have Streisand removed from the theatre, wishing to prevent the same temper tantrum and misbehaviour as last year.

Actors coming into the theatre will find themselves trying to avoid sitting near the embalmed body of Jack Nicholson, propped up in the front row with his tuxedo and sunglasses on, as the conditions of his will stipulated after his death two years ago.

Tom Cruise will be brought into the theatre. To prevent a repeat of last year’s stupidity in which he wasted three hours on a tirade about Scientology and psychology, he will be restrained and fitted with a Hannibal Lecter mask, and placed beside the corpse of Jack Nicholson.

Leonardo DiCaprio will arrive at the theatre with this month’s supermodel date, smiling only with his mouth- a smile that extends to his eyes never happens, after all. A reporter will ask how he’ll feel if he loses the Best Actor award yet again. DiCaprio will try to keep from breaking down into tears.

John Travolta will turn up at the theatre with his wife Kelly Preston, grinning like an idiot, promising not to grope any actress half his age in an attempt to convince people he’s straight. He will also promise not to get anyone’s name wrong this year. When Jennifer Lawrence passes by on the red carpet going inside, he’ll call out, “Hey, it’s Jemima Leighton!” Kelly will wonder if her husband has an undiagnosed brain tumour.

The evening will finally get underway a good hour after it was supposed to begin. ABC executives at the network offices will be looking at their watches in dismay, wondering how to shorten what promises to be an Oscars telecast vastly going over schedule. “Damn it, Jenkins!” the network boss will fume. “You said this wasn’t going to happen again!”

Chris Rock will turn up on stage, starting the opening monologue by remarking on how white this year’s nominees seem to be. The Academy leadership will start fuming. FOX News will start issue angry statements that will only get more deeply bitter through the night: Hollywood Elites Hate The Patriotic and Beloved Tea Party and Rupert Murdoch Calls Chris Rock “Insufferable ****ing Bastard”. Donald Trump will tweet “Worst Oscars Ever! Ever! They should have asked me to be host! It would have been huuuuge!”

Rock will notice DiCaprio down in the audience, step off the stage, and try to engage him in a conversation about that whole losing streak he’s built up. Much to DiCaprio’s dismay, Rock will bring up the whole incident from last year when Marisa Tomei punched his lights out when DiCaprio insulted her. The camera will find Marisa among the audience. She will be smiling with delight.

Sylvester Stallone will win early on as Best Supporting Actor for his role as Rocky Balboa in Creed. The actor will be eloquent and graceful in his speech (not requiring a Stallone-to-English interpreter for once). He will praise the talents of his co-star Michael B. Jordan, suggesting that the young actor deserved a nomination for Best Actor, a remark that will infuriate members of the Academy. “How dare he call into question our all-white nominations!” Edgar Wainwright, an elderly member of the Academy and one time member of the KKK will mutter. “Can we revoke that award?”

Writer E.L. James will storm on stage just before a music number and take to the podium, angrily demanding as to why Fifty Shades Of Grey only got one nomination- for a song she doesn’t even like. “It’s the greatest film of all time, damn it! And you’re ignoring it by not just giving it every Oscar imaginable! This won’t be the last you’ll hear of me!”  She will be dragged off stage by security staff, hollering about the legions of Fifty Shades fans, all of whom will carry out her bondage based revenge against every member of the Academy.

Multiple winners will totally ignore the usual hints from the orchestra to keep their speeches short. Producers will find themselves wondering how they could be so far behind their schedule.

Jennifer Lawrence will trip at some point along the way, fulfilling her secret desire to be clumsy in front of more than a billion people.

Anthony Hopkins, presenting one of the awards, will turn his attention to DiCaprio. “You know, Leo, I did a lost in the wilderness and man eating bear movie back in the 90s called The Edge. As it turns out, I didn’t win an Oscar for that one. It doesn’t really matter- I’ve already got a Best Actor Oscar and lots of other hardware and accolades to make up for it.” While DiCaprio will keep a stoic face, in fact he’ll be grinding his teeth and vowing bloody revenge against Anthony Hopkins.

John Travolta will snicker to himself and say, “Alistair Henderson really gave Lucas DiGianno a kick in the teeth, didn’t he?”

Tom Cruise will make a Mission Impossible style escape from his restraints, hijacking the stage and starting off on a rant about how he’s consistently ignored. “You people should be bowing down at my feet!” he will bitterly say. Tommy Lee Jones, who last year put Charlie Sheen into traction, will consider getting up and do the same to Cruise, but Marisa Tomei will beat him to the stage and deck Tom Cruise. “My face! My beautiful face!” Cruise will shriek like a little girl while paramedics take him away.

The March Of The Dead will begin, with the faces of those actors, directors, screenwriters, and various others of the industry who have died in the last year being displayed on a big screen. Applause will meet those who are well known. Cinematographers, on the other hand, will be met with a “who the hell is that?” reaction by the audience. And when footage of Abe Vigoda flashes on the screen, more than one person, applauding, will also ask, “didn’t he die thirty years ago?”

Network executives at ABC will be looking at their watches, dismayed at how the broadcast could be five hours behind, while wondering if they should have just placed bets on the ceremony going overtime.

Late in the ceremony, last year’s Best Actress winner Julianne Moore will come to the stage to present the award for Best Actor. Matt Damon, Leonardo DiCaprio, Eddie Redmayne, Bryan Cranston, and Michael Fassbender will all wait with anticipation as their names are listed. Cameras will be focused on each of them. Moore will reveal the winner. It will not be Leonardo DiCaprio.

While the winner walks towards the stage to accept the Best Actor Oscar, DiCaprio will stalk away from his seat, finding an elderly Academy voter, and start pummelling him, screaming, “That was supposed to be my Oscar!!! Why didn’t you vote for me??? Why??? Why????”

DiCaprio’s attack will be halted when Marisa Tomei will grab him from behind, turn him around, and deliver a left hook punch followed by an elbow smash into his face, sending him falling to the floor and knocking him out cold. The theatre will erupt in applause. Stallone will wonder if he can figure out a way to make a Rocky movie with Marisa Tomei as a woman boxer. Travolta will exclaim, “Millicent Toledo really knows how to fight, doesn’t she?”

The Best Picture Oscar will be given out. Of eight films nominated, only one will win. One of the losing directors will mutter a curse word out loud when they hear that it wasn’t their film. The producers and director of the winning film will take to the stage and accept their accolades. And in turn, each will start making rambling speeches, ignoring the attempts of the orchestra and producers to make them stop. 

Chris Rock will close out the ceremony with a farewell, thanking everyone for staying with the telecast. Producers, half asleep, will cue the exit music, which at Rock’s request as one more way to annoy the Academy, will be the theme from Shaft. It will be five forty in the morning local time, and most of the television audience will have given up hours ago, learning only upon waking up in the morning that Marisa Tomei made Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Cruise bleed. The footage will go viral by noon.

Leonardo DiCaprio will find himself fingerprinted, photographed, and booked at a local precinct for assault on a ninety five year old Academy voter. Sporting fresh bruises, a bloody lip, and a broken nose, he will only say over and over again in a high pitched shriek, “Marisa Tomei causes pain!!!”