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Around Town

Awards reward

By Jeffrey White
Staff Writer, The Prague Post
February 28th, 2007 issue

Oscar night 2007 started with a frantic cab ride home.

I had arrived at HBO’s glitzy, glam-soaked Oscar party in Slovanský dům embarrassingly underdressed. Yes, there was a red carpet. Yes, there was an annoying strobe that simulated the popping flashes of the paparazzi. Yes, there were scores of beautiful people in gowns, suits, a lot of black trousers and jackets.    
And there I was, in jeans, a weekend button-down (yes, untucked) and sneaks.
What was I expecting? Of course, that’s the point: I didn’t quite know. I had turned up largely — though not solely — out of curiosity, to see just who goes to an all-night shindig built around that most frivolous of yearly events, the Academy Awards.
I thought it would be a lot of expat movie geeks, sitting around drinking beer and seeing who could last till 6 a.m. What I got instead was a ritzy scene out of the pages of that great social barometer, Prague Club Magazine, though the faces here rather tilted toward young professional.
After a few minutes making my way through the main party hall — lots of tables, a stage with music acts, a full buffet catered by Ambiente, a whiskey bar featuring Jameson’s — I panicked and fled. Flash-forward 30 minutes, after said cab ride, and the new me (black shirt, black jacket, nicer jeans) was ready to party Oscar-style.
The first thing you noticed was the size of the turnout: The hall was full, though not overcrowded, with a nice combination of minglers and lingerers. The second thing you noticed were the two women in G-strings moving through the crowd.
At first they wore American-flag outfits, complete with vests and chaps, an odd thing to encounter at such a party. I might have chosen something a bit more Oscar-related, like a saucy English queen. An hour later they returned, this time in black G-strings and accessories.
A friend noticed, as they passed, the red spots on their necks.
“You’re bleeding,” she said, pointing to the makeup.
Girl #1 said, “It’s blood. We’re vampires!”
“And I bit her,” Girl #2 said.
Indeed.
Aside from the obvious large Oscar statues standing guard near the dance floor, and several big flat-screen televisions positioned at various points in the party hall, nothing about the event particularly screamed out movies or Hollywood.
At one point, I approached a guy in his late 20s who said his name was Mirek.
“Who do you like for best picture?” I asked.
He stared at me like my question pulled him into a kind of new reality.
I told him my horse was definitely not The Departed, which had me up until it descended, in its final 30 minutes, into heavy-handed, overwrought tragedy. And Martin Scorsese, great director that he is, should be flogged for the final shot in the film.
“It’s the only movie I’ve seen,” Mirek said.
Perhaps the Oscars were just the backdrop to all this. It was easy to forget about them. There was, after all, an unbelievable multitable spread of food to consider. In an adjoining room, which smelled like a cigar lounge (one server was fishing out stogies from a mahogany humidor), there was a wine selection you usually can only hope for at such a event: bottles of soave and barolo.
So, when the Academy Awards actually started, around 1:30 a.m., it was like a jolting reminder of why we were all here. Many chose to just stay were they were, watching the show on a large television screen in the main party hall.
I headed to one of the theaters where the telecast was being shown in English. There were maybe 30 of us, a decidedly quiet crowd given the party that preceded everything. What followed was a rather enjoyable four hours. I’ll admit it, I’ve always had a soft spot for the Oscars. Glasses of soave only add to the occasion.
If only The Departed hadn’t won Best Picture.

Jeffrey White can be reached at jwhite@praguepost.com


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