My thoughts today are dedicated to those scrumbled pieces of paper, forgotten in tuxedos and elegant evening bags somewhere in California. What will be of them? Maybe some would be recycled, used to write the list of what to buy at the grocers’. I’m not talking of the big stars, of course, but of the legion of anonymous for the public documentary producers, hairstylists, special FX artists… Maybe some of those pieces of paper would be used to write in the back their telephone numbers hoping that the brunette in the party was at least not as drunk as he was. Others would remain in the tux’s pocket that will be rented a year later and the lucky winner would keep wondering who the hell was all that people he has thanked for until he realizes, several hours later returning to his hotel room, that his speech was that piece of paper in the bedside table. Others would be torn to pieces in anger, and very few of them thrown to the dust-bin without regrets.
I’m sure that it’s better to forget to thank someone when receiving an Oscar that to find, when opening your rented design purse, that piece of paper mocking you.