We know what Beatty should have done: “I’m sorry, I seem to have the wrong envelope.” Instead, he gave us a metaphor so literal if it was a movie you’d throw popcorn at the screen.
The walking embodiment of old Hollywood and white privilege, frozen in bewilderment, allows a cadre of white males to think they’ve won for a lighthearted confection about cute white dreamers in L.A. And then we all watch as they physically transfer the statuette to a female producer and a black director for their intimate movie about a black gay man.
“I’m going to be really proud to hand this to my friends from Moonlight,” Horowitz said gracefully. Speaking for humankind? We can only dream.
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