On TV, it played like the year of the Big Tent. Old Hollywood, black Hollywood, Spanish-speaking Hollywood, trailer-park Hollywood, Magic-Johnson-Theatres Hollywood -- this year's Oscars seemed to have something for every constituency.
But Big Tents are never as spacious as they seem from the outside, are they? Just getting into the Kodak Theatre on Sunday night was a tutorial in the price of inclusiveness as it is practiced in the world of stardom: Stop at checkpoint, present ticket and I.D. to uniformed police officers. Stop at second checkpoint, roll down all vehicle windows, pop trunk, let more uniformed police officers search car.
For The Record
Los Angeles Times Wednesday March 02, 2005 Home Edition Main News Part A Page 2 National Desk 0 inches; 25 words Type of Material: Correction
Oscar parties -- An article in Tuesday's Calendar section about Oscar parties referred to Lars Ulrich as Metallica's lead singer. He is the band's drummer.
Pull past crowds of screaming fans lined up behind barricades on greasy Hollywood side streets. Present ticket again, this time to obsequious valet guy. Step forward onto very wide red carpet. Stumble toward yet another ticket-taker with a herd of surprisingly ordinary-looking people in nice clothes interspersed with a handful of very tiny and beautiful people in jewel-toned gowns and wee tuxes. Pass great banks of paparazzi. Blink at blinding bronze tautness of Joan Rivers' cheekbones. Stagger sideways into Leo DiCaprio, who is waving to the bleachers, his moon face beatific in the strobe lights.
Cross the threshold toward a big, open stairway down which the tiny and beautiful Kirsten Dunst and her look-alike brother are gliding. Watch yet another ticket-taker tell the schlemiel behind them that, sorry, he can't go down these stairs to the cocktail party where all the stars are. He has to go to a different floor if he wants a cocktail. The guy gazes over the banister -- here's Laura Linney, there's Melanie Griffith and Antonio Banderas -- as the tiny and beautiful Emmy Rossum of "The Phantom of the Opera" descends.
So it went under Sunday's Big Tent. As the evening wore on, it was clear that, really, a tent could only be so big. Nervous at the possibility of low ratings when fewer and fewer people care about more and more award shows, the Oscars took a chance and rejiggered the show's formula to emphasize mass over class, at least in front of the cameras.
But in the house, as host Chris Rock might say, the scene was more nuanced. Mass is democratic and inclusive, but Hollywood is all about social stratification. The stars have to be distant or they'll lose their magic and people won't buy tickets.
