Oh, man. Hathaway is something else. As you know, I wrote a piece last week on just how annoying I find Anne Hathaway.
Forget gun control or economic policy, this is something the entire country can get behind. She’s already a pile of nonsense and then throw in an Oscar nomination. Sure, she lost a bunch of weight and sang a nice song, but she didn’t find a cure for athlete’s foot. So she needs to take it down a couple notches.
Despite getting groans for feigning overwhelming emotion during her Golden Globes acceptance speech for her role in Les Misérables, the actress is “planning another cringeworthy monologue for the Oscars.” Anne is “so sure she will win that she is planning another visceral monologue for the Oscars. She is working with a team of writers to develop a worthy speech as her last. She has also recently turned her NYC pad into her rehearsal stage.” A friend says, “If she doesn’t win for Best Supporting Actress, it’ll take all her acting skills to hide her disappointment.” Hathaway is “obsessing over every other aspect of the big night, turning her NYC pad into an Oscar rehearsal center. Anne’s dedicated three rooms for fittings, makeup tests and to practice her red carpet interviews.”
Seriously, can someone smack her with a frying pan? Can’t that new husband of hers ask her to sit down for a second? Because this all getting out of hand.
She’s like a Bridezilla, but way worse.
This is what I say. If you are going to write a good Oscar speech it should cover the following:
An immediate sign of disbelief. Tears should begin but the real waterworks saved for the last sentence. It would only muddle the
A brisk walk to the podium. Just get that out of the way.
Start with a deep breath and a head tilt.
Admit that it’s hard to encapsulate an entire life’s worth of work into one moment of gratitude.
Say the best that you can do is to say that it was always something you’ve dreamed of winning, that you’ve appreciated every heartbreak and triumph along the way, and how gracious you are for the support for your performance. Probably good to also say that there are too many people to thank, that it would be impossible to name all the people that have been with you along this journey.
Close with an inspirational message for everyone embarking on a new career and the satisfaction that comes with hard work and dedication.
Thank everyone again.
Things to avoid, of course, should then include:
Over dramatizing the joy of hearing your name.
Grasping onto all your co-stars and friends in the audience around you before going up to the stage. (The clock is running).
Taking a long walk up to the stage. It’s not your wedding, weirdo. There are other awards.
Facing the audience, raising your award in the air, and taking prolonged gasps.
Thanking all of your fellow nominees. They don’t care what you have to say.
Quoting some philosopher. Everyone knows you never read books.
Going through the names of all the makeup people, dieticians, and lighting people who made this moment possible. No one cares.
Explaining how his one role changed your entire life. You sang a song, relax nutbag.
Saying some ridiculous statement about how your new husband is your friend and lover and the beginning of your tomorrows. Save it for the Valentine’s Day card.
Taking a slow walk while collapsing into the presenter in tears. They don’t care either.
My secret hope is someone else wins. Can we make sure Sally Field or Helen Hunt wins?
Kate Casey is a Pop Culture Lover. PR Pro. Soon-to-be New mom again. Comedy nerd. Celebrity gossip fan. Follow her on Twitter @KateCasey