Oscars 2016: Why Chris Rock Should Host This Show Every Damn Year
It’s official: Chris Rock needs to host the Oscars every year. The whole idea of other hosts has been tried, and it has failed, from the soul-withering void that was James Franco to the locust plague they call Seth MacFarlane. Why would you ever not call Rock for this gig? Ellen DeGeneres and Steve Martin are always welcome, but Rock is just the undisputed king of award-show hosts, and despite all the other things he can do, lampooning a roomful of bloated Hollywood egos is what he does best. He made this the liveliest Oscar Night in years, especially when he was throwing fifty shades of shade at Jada Pinkett Smith (“Jada boycotting the Oscars is like me boycotting Rihanna’s panties — I wasn’t invited”) and her husband: “It’s not fair Will was paid 20 million dollars for Wild Wild West, okay?”
The last time Rock hosted, in 2005, he raised hackles all night with barbs like, “There’s only four real stars — the rest are just popular people. Clint Eastwood is a star. That’s a star. Tobey Maguire is just a boy in tights.” He didn’t get as caustic this time — in fact, by his standards, Rock was pulling his punches, even in a monologue that focused on the plight of black actors. He also bombed with dumb jokes putting down Asians and lesbians, so maybe he just didn’t have his heart in the whole diversity-is-so-hot-right-now thing. But his funniest gag was the night’s most bizarre mind-freak moment — bringing on Stacey Dash (from Clueless, now a right-wing pundit) to wish everybody a happy Black History Month. In the immortal words of Alicia Silverstone, that moment was like searching for meaning in a Pauly Shore movie.
It was a strange Oscar Night all around. Somehow, in recent months, our nation became feverishly obsessed with the idea that Leonardo DiCaprio is not merely a good actor, but an unjustly unrewarded one who’s long overdue for recognition of his artistic achievements in the “things other than looking hot in the Nineties” category. Hey, that’s beautiful, America, you go with that, though it’s not a feverish obsession I happen to share. When he won his Best Actor trophy for The Revenant, he admirably discussed climate change while struggling to simulate a facial expression. “Let’s not take this planet for granted,” Leo said. “I don’t take tonight for granted.” Having equated the survival of our ecosystem with his need for an Oscar, Leo called it a night. (He didn’t appear onstage with his old shipmate Kate Winslet — but thumbs up for her fierce reading glasses.)
The oppression of women in Hollywood could not be more glaringly illustrated than in the constant presenter pairing of “Goofy Joking Male Slob + Silently Smiling Sideboob Machine.” The agony on the great Olivia Wilde’s face as she had to endure Sacha Baron Cohen reviving his Ali G schtick — that was an indignity neither she nor any other actress should be forced to bear. At least the Oscars had the decency to spare any of the female stars from having to go onstage with Kevin Hart, whose habit of creeping out his co-presenters is just one of the things that make him a menace at award shows. (Tonight Kevin Hart decided to get serious and share his innermost feelings about diversity, which was far less painful than watching him harass Salma Hayek.)