The morning after the Oscar night before

20/24 in a hard year — not bad. Of my four misses, I was most surprised by Big Hero Six winning. They really don't like sequels, huh? But still: a superhero origins story. I thought we were all against superheroes on this one night of the year. Pleasantly surprised Tom Cross won for Whiplash's editing, disappointed Chazelle didn't get adapted screenplay. (The Imitation Game is a truly terrible winner, even if expected). And puzzled Anderson didn't get original screenplay, even if Birdman's script is the sizzler. At one point the evening looked like the coronation of Wes Anderson ("Thank you Wes" being the rallying cry of the night). It will be remembered in this neck of the woods for Redmayne's squeal, NPH's strip, the number of boobs, underpants and skinny boys, Arquette's speech (and the cutaway to Streep), the constant self-reassurances that the Academy isn't racist, the dedication of both the top acting trophies to the degenerative neurological diseases of the subjects, that wonton act of cruelty involving The Sound of Music, and the genuinely nail-biting finish.