Academy Awards -- The slow must go on

Steve Martin, left, and co-host Alec Baldwin go to the 3-D glasses to look for "Avatar" director James Cameron.  (Courtesy:  houmatoday.com/AP)

It's impossible to "fix" the Academy Awards, but the telecast doesn't have to be this listless.

Maybe it's time to quit tinkering with Hollywood's biggest night and just let Oscar be Oscar; staid and stuffy, yes, but packing the movie industry's most-coveted keepsakes.

Sunday night's ceremonies, as many of you know, were super-sized.  There were two producers instead of one, two hosts instead of one and 10 best picture nominees instead of the traditional five.

Unfortunately, Sunday night's "improvements" were super-sized off Hollywood's 99-cent menu.  None of the changes added to the excitement or kept the 82nd Academy Awards from crawling along at a snail's pace for the usual three and a-half hours.

From the Duh! department

What co-producers Adam Shankman and Bill Mechanic know this morning and the rest of the world knew all along was that doubling down on Best Picture nominees must, by definition, prolong the evening.  You have 10 nominees instead of five, you must show 10 movie trailers (or film clips).

About Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin

Two funny guys.  Two clever guys.  Two gifted talents.  But one too many when it comes to hosting the Oscars.

Bob Hope, the perfect combination of Hollywood insider, star and royalty, did it best.  And he went it mostly alone for a record-breaking 18 times over three decades (1950s, '60s, '70s).

Like Hope, Billy Crystal (my modern-era favorite) knew how to come on with a bang, sling a few barbs at icons staring back at him in the front row and get on with the show.

Martin would have been fine alone, as he was in 2001 and 2003.  Thrown together with Baldwin, the timing (especially from Baldwin) was jerky at best.  Sorry boys, but you don't establish that flawless Hope/Crosby or Martin/Lewis rapport over a few rehearsals no matter how gifted you are.

Gutting Oscar tradition; to have not

I have no problem with movie star newbies like Jeremy Renner of "The Hurt Locker" or Carey Mulligan of "An Education" inching into the spotlight and edging out Hollywood's Old Guard.  These young actors are the real deal and are likely to be around for decades.

There's only so much screen time to spread around, even for a show that appears to hang around forever.  So you may have noticed the absence of Jack Nicholson, Clint Eastwood and even Steven Spielberg this year, just to name a few big names missing from the spotlight. 

I do have a problem, however, when Oscar's producers opt to delegate this year's honorary awards to a "let's do lunch" ceremony and a brief mention during the actual telecast.

From this recliner seat, the mood appeared to be, "Hurry up, Lauren Bacall ("To Have and Have Not," "The Big Sleep") and Roger Corman (B-movie directing god)(who were in the audience), "get your standing ovation over with so we can move on to a prolonged dance segment."

Ah yes, the dance segment

Someone, somewhere got the idea that the Academy Awards telecast, which is already seen by about a billion viewers around the world, must be re-tooled to appeal to a younger audience.

"I know, I know," co-producer Shankman may have said jumping up and down in his seat during production meetings.  (Or maybe not, I'm guessing here.)  "Why don't we toss out all those Best Song performances and replace them with a 20-minute (it seemed to me) dance montage celebrating the movie scores?"

So that's what they did.  Someone turned the Academy Awards over to a judge on "So You Think You Can Dance."

I could go on and on.  For instance, what was up with all the blatant gum-chewing?  Cameron Diaz wasn't the only one caught chomping away.  But please, at least pretend to have a little respect and class.

The moment that made me scream at our TV

First time Oscar ceremonies director Hamish Hamilton ("MTV Video Music Awards") should be banished from the booth forever for missing the key camera shot of the evening.

"Avatar" director James Cameron was sitting directly behind Kathryn Bigelow, director of "The Hurt Locker" and Cameron's ex-wife.

Hamilton blew one of the rare genuinely interesting moments of the evening when he abruptly switched to a wide shot of the Kodak Theater auditorium instead of sticking with Bigelow when she made history as the first woman ever to be named Best Director.

Come on, we all love a good soap opera.  What would happen as Bigelow rose from her chair?  Would she turn around and acknowledge her ex, give him a Bronx Cheer (or worse) or simply ignore Cameron altogether?

Thanks to a bonehead play by a rookie director, about a billion people will never know.

Sorry, Oscar.  You deserve better.