April 2002 A great time at the Oscars

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by Monikka Stallworth A great time at the Oscars 1:00pm “This whole affair is straight B.S.” That singular thought thundered the walls of my forehead as I maneuvered through a maze of ridiculous traffic detours en route to the 74th Annual Academy Awards at the brand new Kodak Theater on the corner of Highland and Hollywood Boulevard in the heart of Tinsel Town. It wouldn’t have been so bad if my one question: “Where’s press parking?” hadn’t been met by incessant encounters with ill-informed security guards pointing me towards even more obstacles on the already sardine like streets of Hollywood. Almost at wits end, I was ready to curse the whole event and slip off to the beach, when a cherub-faced security officer directed me to the correct parking lot. I really wanted to jump out of my car and embrace this uniformed gift from above. That is, until I reached the lot and was told by “Juan” that I needed an orange pass. “What good is this?” I yelped, tugging at the press badge slung around my neck. “I don’t know, but I’ll tow you if you park here.” “This is straight B.S.!” I drive off, tempted to head to a bar and catch the Laker Game, but I persist and – I prevail. Dipping into a coveted parking spot only two blocks from the Kodak Theater, I high tail it through yet another labyrinth of security officers who don’t know where I’m suppose to be or where I’m suppose to go. Then it dawns on me that this tremendous display of uniformed security officers and cops stationed every 20 feet is yet, another one of Hollywood’s great illusions. There all dressed the part, but have no lines…essentially extras. Assimilating this recognition, I muster up destination seeking focus and follow my instincts across a street, through a thick crowd of fans and down an oddly security-free alley until I come to a set of metal detectors and wand wielding rent-a-cops. They search my bags, they scroll my person with their electric wand thingies and once again, I ask, “Where does the press go?” And once again, I’m met with clueless eyes and an unintelligible reply. So I press forward, slip past a security guard and into a sea of paparazzi and what do you know - I’m standing on the red carpet. Oh my gawsh. This is cool. This is off the hook. Look at everyone – there’s the black chick from Access Hollywood posing in a sumptuous deep lavendar gown, and there’s Entertainment Tonight’s Leeza Gibbons in a form fitting sky blue number, and oh my gosh, this is really NEATO. But I’m way too cool to reveal any emotion. “Excuse me – where do I go” seems trite now, so maintaining an air of casual professionalism, I search for the folks with notepads, pens, personality and hope - the print media. There they are, just around the bin, away from the media circus, sitting quietly on the bleachers situated in probably the best location of all, at the entrance of the Kodak Theater, itself. The stars have to pass right by us. 2:30pm – Where are the celebs? Would they please hurry up and arrive – it’s getting hot and I’m a sun magnet. I’m wearing black pants, black turtleneck, black boots and yes, a black leather coat. I’m sweating. 2:54pm I wonder how it must feel to be the first to arrive to the Oscars? Surprisingly, the first couple to make their way down the red carpet was an un-famous Japanese couple. They were followed by several more un-famous folk, followed by even more un-recognizables. What’s going on here – I thought the Oscars were star-studded. They aren’t. There are way more regular folk (read: wealthy, incognito, powerful behind the scenes types) in attendance than there are celebrities. But, the fan-addicts were out in full swing helping to alert the press to celebrity arrivals with seemingly rehearsed and perfected cheers. And so I saw just about everyone up close and personal… here’s the scoop: Will Smith and Jada Pinkett – well if they aren’t the most dashing couple in Hollywood. He’s tall, handsome and friendly. She’s petit, beautiful and witty. Neither have discarded their identities and I mean, dang – they represent. Denzel Washington didn’t have time to chat with us, he seemed a little over the media blitz, but he looked marvelous, as did his glowing wife Pauletta in her luscious lilac gown. Nicole Kidman, although the palest human I’ve ever seen, is quite stunning and gives the impression of the kind of girl you’d wanna hang out with, like she’s a bundle of fun. Glenn Close, in a bad black beaded gown (it didn’t come off as well on camera as it did in person) is one together woman. She’s got these angular features, is very sophisticated and has a savvy way about her that is just undeniably cool. Robert Redford with his great big jaws, tough skin and a thick head of tussled auburn hair is ruggedly handsome. Gwyneth Paltrow is not nearly as heroine-chic (skinny) in person as one might think. She’s just a tall, thin girl. And her dress, make-up and hair wasn’t nearly as bad in person as it appeared on television. The short of it: I couldn’t help but notice that a few actresses might want to consider mashed potatoes at midnight for a month or so, but most of them appeared surprisingly healthy and fit. Ethan Hawke and Uma Thurman put the “norm” in normal. They come off refreshingly real. Marisa Tomei is beautiful and personable, as is Kate Winslett. Ted Turner acknowledged us with a wave - his profile was great. Russell Crow is very handsome and so is Sting. I was only able to catch a glimpse of stunning Halle Berry as she and her gorgeous husband Eric Benet dashed into the theater – what a fabulous dress, sexy and tasteful, perfectly sculpted for her beautiful body. Sissy Spacek looks virtually the same on and off camera. Reese Witherspoon is a delicate, small-framed woman, much prettier in person than on film. Helen Hunt was ultra diva with her new hair do and svelte body. But something about her is… unfriendly. John Singleton happily slipped by the media, hand in hand with his attractive date, obscured by the attention paid to a more famous celebrity. He didn’t seem to mind at all. Neither did handsome Blair Underwood whose baby dreads were begging to stand on end and scream “Jah Rastafari!” 4:45pm This brings me to probably the most notable moment of the evening. Meeting the incomparably majestic Mr. Sidney Poitier. Mr. Poitier looks into my eyes and shakes my hand earnestly. “Um, I read your autobiography – it’s wonderful – do you have plans to write another and when can we expect it?” Sidney: “Actually I do, it will be out in about three years and it will be nonfiction. And oh – I have another one in my computer, too.” Wow – I stood before a great man and asked an almost lame question, but here’s what Mr. Poitier had to say about receiving an Oscar before he actually received the honorary Oscar: “It’s an appreciation extended by the Academy and my fellow actors.” Simple, huh? When pressed for an opinion about the possibility of a historical moment in Oscar history with the nominations of three African Americans up for Best Actor Achievements, Sidney said “…it is not to be ignored, neither should it be pounced upon like some nefarious (event). It is a wonderful place for us to be not only as a people, but as a country.” Here, here.