Showing posts with label Best Costume Design. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Best Costume Design. Show all posts

Monday, February 29, 2016

Would it KILL you to applaud?



 


I don't know Jenny Beavan from a hole in the ground, nor do I know anything about the Mad Max series, though judging from last night the franchise is more than thriving. But this! This is the height of ungraciousness  in an audience. This is annoying in that the clip only lasts 3 seconds and keeps repeating (sorry, folks, but that's all I've got!). But focus on those men sitting on the aisles - you know, the ones who aren't applauding a legendary costume designer who has just won an Academy Award.

Not. Applauding. At. All.

Take a look, furthermore, at their expressions, and we see: snickering; blankness; angry contempt; catatonia; more contempt, even more snarly and vitriolic - before we almost get to Julia Roberts, who, bless her heart, is beaming.

Costume designers usually dress badly. They look frumpy, like Edith Head, or sink into the wallpaper, like Stella McCartney. It's what they do; it's what we expect of them. Unable to keep up with the hopeless and overstuffed glamour of Hollywood's most narcissistic night, Jenny Beavan made a decision to dress however-the-hell and be comfortable. In fact, she went on record to say that, for her, this faux biker-Mama look was "dressed-up".




Stephen Fry, my favorite maiden grand-aunt, once pronounced Beavan a "bag lady", and it's true that she's laying on the anti-glamour pretty thick here. But the more I look at these unguarded facial expressions - the anger, the disgust, the refusal to even politely applaud - the more disgusted I am with the Hollywood glamouratti and their stick-up-the-ass brigade of tuxedoed snotheads.

Keep looking at this gif and it just gets more disturbing. Really, nobody is applauding her. I only see two people very feebly making an attempt, and everyone else is sitting there like stone. Two of the men have their arms crossed so hard, they would have to be pried apart with a crowbar.

What is WRONG with these people anyway? The message, raw and in your face, is "you don't look right. What the hell are you doing winning an award?" It's a non-acknowledgement, pretending that nobody's walking up the aisle, or else somebody made a mistake and let a real person in.

Fortunately she does not give a rip. This telling three-second clip says everything about them (and their hateful pettiness and spite) and nothing about her except a refreshingly up-yours attitude.




POST-BLOG OBSERVATION. This, apparently, is the jacket she was wearing, a "pleather" from Marks and Spencers. Looks a bit slim-lined for her full figure, but never mind. All those zippers give it a sort of dominatrix look. I had a jacket like that once, and the zipper busted pretty quickly. I want a look at the back of it - I'll try to find an image of it.

If Cate Blanchett had worn this, they would've called it a "bold fashion statement".




Of course! It's a Mad Max logo. As in Fury Road, as in "I just won Best Costume Design for this".




 I here-and-now predict a massive run on these jackets. Marks and Spencer won't be able to keep up.