By far the high-point of the Oscars was Melissa McCarthy's brief
appearance. If you have been living on Mars, know that: MM wore Olivia
Colman's costume from "The Favourite." On her absurdly long train,
sixteen or seventeen stuffed bunnies appeared. Also, one stuffed bunny
was attached to McCarthy's hand, so that she could make it "come alive"
while she talked.
How tedious it is to write about "why something is funny," but still I have to point out that McCarthy's short appearance: (1) paid surprising and unusual tribute to one of the iconic characters from the past year, (2) sliced through the fatuous self-importance of the Oscars in a wordless and elegant way, and (3) made McCarthy into the evening's court jester, which is always an appealing character, from the p.o.v. of the audience.
(It seemed perfect that the recipient of the award McCarthy was presenting couldn't be bothered to make even one remark about McCarthy's joke--which seemed to underline some of what McCarthy was "saying" about Oscars-evening self-absorption. But maybe that's a mean conclusion for me to reach.)
In honor of Ms. McCarthy, some other moments I love:
-"Do you feel that? It's the steam heat spilling from my undercarriage." I believe that you can generally tell when McCarthy goes off book and starts improvising. There's a special, extra-demented look in her eyes. That "undercarriage" line deserves extravagant praise; also, it seems to me that basically every watchable moment in another well-liked McCarthy movie, "Spy," was invented on the fly by McCarthy. In other words, it's my sense that "Spy" works when--and only when--McCarthy goes off-script.
-Because of Hollywood's lack of imagination, McCarthy has been shoehorned as "the overweight silly lady." For that reason, I admire "St. Vincent," even if the script wasn't very good. Before "Can You Ever Forgive Me," there was "St. Vincent." (And McCarthy has been candid about her lifelong desire to experiment with both comedy *and* tragedy. "I moved to New York wanting to do EVERYTHING." Even when you're watching one of McCarthy's not-great post-"Bridesmaids" raunch-fests, you still have to admire McCarthy's intrepid spirit. At least, that's if you ask me.)
-One of my favorite moments in "Can You Ever Forgive Me" concerns a prank. (It's in the memoir, as well, and though I recommend the memoir, I wouldn't automatically conclude that anything in it is definitely true.) Lee Israel has taken some books to resell at Housing Works, and the officious gay man behind the counter has been needlessly rude to her. By some coincidence, Israel then ascertains where the man lives. She also observes that he has a dog whom he clearly loves.
Next, Israel jots down the name of the man's upstairs neighbor. A few days go by. Israel calls the man at Housing Works, pretending to sob, and says, "I'm your upstairs neighbor, XXXXXX. There's a fire! There's a fire! And they couldn't rescue your dog...."
The reason I love this so much is that it's a bit of foreshadowing. We see how bright and creative Israel is--and we also see that Israel really struggles to put that brightness and that creativity into the service of a noble impulse. There's greatness, but it gets weirdly diverted: It gets used for something harmful and juvenile. And that's what happens with Israel's superficially brilliant forgeries, as well. So, with the early dog incident, we really get the entire arc of the script, in miniature. That's sharp writing--by Nicole Holofcener--and it's brought to life compassionately by McCarthy.
Love that lady! May she continue to get better and better offers in the next few years.
How tedious it is to write about "why something is funny," but still I have to point out that McCarthy's short appearance: (1) paid surprising and unusual tribute to one of the iconic characters from the past year, (2) sliced through the fatuous self-importance of the Oscars in a wordless and elegant way, and (3) made McCarthy into the evening's court jester, which is always an appealing character, from the p.o.v. of the audience.
(It seemed perfect that the recipient of the award McCarthy was presenting couldn't be bothered to make even one remark about McCarthy's joke--which seemed to underline some of what McCarthy was "saying" about Oscars-evening self-absorption. But maybe that's a mean conclusion for me to reach.)
In honor of Ms. McCarthy, some other moments I love:
-"Do you feel that? It's the steam heat spilling from my undercarriage." I believe that you can generally tell when McCarthy goes off book and starts improvising. There's a special, extra-demented look in her eyes. That "undercarriage" line deserves extravagant praise; also, it seems to me that basically every watchable moment in another well-liked McCarthy movie, "Spy," was invented on the fly by McCarthy. In other words, it's my sense that "Spy" works when--and only when--McCarthy goes off-script.
-Because of Hollywood's lack of imagination, McCarthy has been shoehorned as "the overweight silly lady." For that reason, I admire "St. Vincent," even if the script wasn't very good. Before "Can You Ever Forgive Me," there was "St. Vincent." (And McCarthy has been candid about her lifelong desire to experiment with both comedy *and* tragedy. "I moved to New York wanting to do EVERYTHING." Even when you're watching one of McCarthy's not-great post-"Bridesmaids" raunch-fests, you still have to admire McCarthy's intrepid spirit. At least, that's if you ask me.)
-One of my favorite moments in "Can You Ever Forgive Me" concerns a prank. (It's in the memoir, as well, and though I recommend the memoir, I wouldn't automatically conclude that anything in it is definitely true.) Lee Israel has taken some books to resell at Housing Works, and the officious gay man behind the counter has been needlessly rude to her. By some coincidence, Israel then ascertains where the man lives. She also observes that he has a dog whom he clearly loves.
Next, Israel jots down the name of the man's upstairs neighbor. A few days go by. Israel calls the man at Housing Works, pretending to sob, and says, "I'm your upstairs neighbor, XXXXXX. There's a fire! There's a fire! And they couldn't rescue your dog...."
The reason I love this so much is that it's a bit of foreshadowing. We see how bright and creative Israel is--and we also see that Israel really struggles to put that brightness and that creativity into the service of a noble impulse. There's greatness, but it gets weirdly diverted: It gets used for something harmful and juvenile. And that's what happens with Israel's superficially brilliant forgeries, as well. So, with the early dog incident, we really get the entire arc of the script, in miniature. That's sharp writing--by Nicole Holofcener--and it's brought to life compassionately by McCarthy.
Love that lady! May she continue to get better and better offers in the next few years.
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