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Thus,the slap heard round the world.
(Pinkett Smith has alopecia.)
What happened next would overshadow the entire show.
Those of us attending the Oscars were as confused as those watching at home.
(Didnt it look like a stage slap?)
But Rocks reaction told it all.
Never a comedian to get rattled, he for once seemed visibly unnerved.
Smith returned to his seat, and began shouting, Keep my wifes name out of your fucking mouth!
Rock was incredulous: Dude, it was a joke.
If those in the audience didnt know it was real before then, we certainly did now.
From there, the mood inside the Dolby Theater had curdled.
How do you even react to that?
What was going on down there?
Surely, somebody onstage would have to say something.
But in the meantime, they just … kept on with the show as if nothing had happened.
Punch lines fell flat.
One publicist repping another Best Picture contender texted me, This is the most unhinged evening of our lives.
Finally, the unavoidable.
Best Actor came and there was Smith up at the podium.
It was a moment that had been widely predicted since Labor Day, but not like this.
At first, he attempted to draw a line between himself and Richard Williams.
Both, he said, would do anything to protect their families.
There were more than a few audible sighs in my section at this moment.
Hes doubling down, one woman near me muttered incredulously.
He then spoke on the counsel hed just received from Denzel Washington, a fellow nominee.
When youre at your highest point, thats when the devil comes for you.
But slowly he approached something close to contrition.
He apologized to the Academy, and to his fellow nominees (but notably, not to Rock).
Finally, he threw love to his female collaborators, and who could argue with that?
He left the stage to a standing ovation from the orchestra, where the stars sat.
Folks higher up in the mezzanine clapped.
Of course, the night was not over.
Jessica Chastain won, so did Jane Campion, and finally so didCODA.
A-listers like Tracee Ellis Ross wore thousand-yard stares, as if theyd just survived the battle of Ypres.
Reports from the press lounge said winners had been instructed to answer questions about their work and nothing else.
Someone called this the worst Oscars ever, a fellow pundit told me as everyone drifted towards their after-parties.
But how do you even quantify it like that?
Perhaps the most damning indictment: For one night, the Oscars felt like the Golden Globes.
