THE SPECTATOR
Last night’s Oscars was the biggest gathering of smug, self-important asses in living memory
by Brendan O’Neill
February 29, 2019

The American comic Toby Muresianu put it best: last night’s Oscars felt like ‘three hours of being told to eat your vegetables’. If there has ever been a more grating gathering of smug, self-important asses keen to educate the TV-watching blob about Serious Stuff, then I’m struggling to remember it. Hollywood has clearly forgotten what its job is: to make us squeal and swoon, not raise our awareness about rape and paedophilia and the heat death of the planet and all the other misanthropic bilge the beautiful people spouted last night…We shouldn’t ‘take this planet for granted’, decreed DiCaprio. Mate, your award is for a film in which a bear nearly kills you, the cold almost consumes you, and you have to sleep inside a horse just to keep warm. If you had any sense your speech would have been: ‘Nature is a bitch. Seriously. The more mankind can do to tame her, the better. Industrialise everywhere.’ READ MORE