LOS ANGELES — The Oscars. Who’d want to watch anything else — other than, maybe, François Hollande’s bedroom.
And the big stars — Chiwetel Ejiofor, Lupita Nyong’o, Barkhad Abdi. OhboyOhjoy! More exciting than Sean Penn in a tie. Cate Blanchett in creamy Armani. Thrilled? Mostly about son Ignatius, called Iggy. She told me: “He just got a PlayStation 4. It’s in a box. You have to be good to assemble it, but I don’t know how. I don’t have that Ph.D.”
Jennifer Lawrence, in the usual strapless, said: “My breasts are lopsided.” They’d straighten out if she supported them. Nominee Matthew McConaughey, earlier in a bronze silk suit: “I’ve been gorging ever since I finished the movie.”
Winner Jared Leto also nailed the fashion award. At Saturday’s Independent Spirit Awards: Orange scarf around his waist, gray scarf around his neck. Knee pants. Knee boots. Long head hair reaching his short lower hair.
Liza showed up on the red carpet just as a big-mouth behind me hollered, “Anybody know what Liza looks like these days?” And I said, “There, look.” And then she kissed me.
Blocking Ejiofor, a yenta humpfed to me: “Your column knocking LA is unfair. We’re nice everyday people.” I take her word for it. She had purple hair, fingerless gloves, and her nipples showed.
“Gravity” director Alfonso Cuarón, who everyone figured would win, kept saying: “Can’t believe this. I can’t believe it.”
June Squibb, up for “Nebraska”: “Tadashi Shoji made my green dress. My filmmaker son and I are meeting many people on the red carpet. I feel so important. I introduced myself to Lupita Nyong’o, although I didn’t see her movie.”
Sally Hawkins, Best Supporting for “Blue Jasmine”: “I heard I was nominated at a very unglamorous moment. I wasn’t dressed. I was weary. Suitcases lined my hall, I’d just returned from a trip. And my brother texted me. So I did the only thing to do — I went out with friends.”
At the Independent Spirit Awards Gift Lounge, Angela Bassett snatched up a year’s supply of free Dark Horse wine, John Waters grabbed hair serum, Jeremy Renner nailed a Murad skin-care kit, Darlene Love glommed onto sample bags of Sabra humus, and Andrew Dice Clay wandered around looking for a camera. Bruce Dern: “I’ve won other things, but this was most important because ‘Nebraska’s’ an indie, and I make independent films.” Steve McQueen, “12 Years a Slave” director: “I was embedded in a hotel room when I heard. I didn’t know what to do. Some say this important film is uncomfortable to watch, and so not everyone saw it . . . still, I toned it down from the book. Of course I wanted to win.”
Forest Whitaker: “I’m directing ‘The Shack.’ The film’s like a letter from God to a man who lost his daughter.” . . . Reese Witherspoon: “I’m doing a project with Judge Judy.” . . . Somebody behind me: “Frozen,” whose song should win, is the only thing keeping Disney alive.” . . . Bill Murray ignores people like me . . . Michael Strahan in a maroon tux posed with anybody.
Helicopters, zeppelins, drones overhead as Julia Roberts arrived in sleeveless, skinny black Givenchy and DiCaprio issued his weekly homily to Scorsese . . . A posse followed Robin Roberts. When the staffer waved, they applauded. He stopped waving, they stopped applauding.
Zoë Kravitz in a short short sexy job: “Balenciaga. Not keeping it because I can’t wear it again.” Right. Her tattoos and nose ring clash with haute couture.
Security so tight the red carpet was like a dressy Guantanamo. They almost strip-searched us . . . with Christian Bale, I’d have liked it personally . . .
Harvey Weinstein’s pre-Oscar dinner at the Montage was not shabby. Bono. De Niro. Philomena. Oprah in specs. Gayle King dieting. Sharon Osbourne said her daughter Aimee’s becoming a singer. Taylor Swift worked her cellphone. All applauded Meryl Streep. Piers Morgan: “I’ll be doing big CNN interviews and specials — like Barbara Walters.” Also Cynthia McFadden, Zac Posen, Jason Alexander.
Sony Pictures Classic gave “Blue Jasmine” a “family dinner”: avocado/cucumber/arugula salad; fish, chicken, steak choice; panna cotta dessert with whatever’s “Jasmine dressing.” Figuring Cate would win, they sprung for Moët et Chandon Champagne.
It was drizzling. “Architectural Digest’s” Jeff Slonem got me a mildewed chair. Another wiped it off. His name? Caleb Rabinowitz. And where’s he work? For Japan’s Yomiuri Shimbun.
Only in LA, kids, only in LA.