The Party For "March of the Penguins" Would Have Really Rocked
Only one baseball team wins the World Series each year, and only one movie wins Best Documentary. Yet the celebration when Best Documentary is announced is nothing like a World Series celebration. I mean, when they said, "And the Academy Award for Best Documentary of 1993 goes to: I Am a Promise: The Children of Stanton Elementary School," how come the director and the producer and the lead cameraman and the editor didn't leap from their seats with mouths agape and charge the stage at top speed, screaming at the top of their lungs, jumping and flailing and then climbing all over each other at the podium, joined in a hopping mob by the guy who did the sound and the transportation coordinator and the executive from public television who helped with the funding, soon causing the whole human mass to topple over, with maybe the children of Stanton Elementary School themselves buried under the pile, laughing as jackets are torn off and seats are ripped out, and then firecrackers explode inside the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion and a big electronic board flashes WE WIN! WE WIN! over and over again, and the key grip uncorks a bottle of champagne and douses everyone, and everyone just rubs it into their hair and falls to their knees and shouts "Yeeeeeeooooooooowwwwwoooooooooooo!" as the crowd claps and stomps their feet for eight minutes straight, the winners drunkenly hugging and fending off flashbulbs.
How come it's not like that? Huh?