JACI STEPHEN’s hilarious takedown of an Oscars night that needed a good SLAP

Let’s face it, we were all tuned in to praying for another Oscar stage fight to distract us from the yearly monotony of value-and-wake-up speeches.

But fashion horrors, and much more, made up for much of our disappointment.

Like the leading ladies, who sported such mysteriously prominent cheekbones, it looked as if Novak Djokovic had double-faulted them.

Seriously, they were so pronounced that they seemed in danger of swallowing the head whole. Yes, I’m talking to Melissa McCarthy, Sigourney Weaver, Cate Blanchett and others here. If you go any higher, girls, they’ll be sitting on your heads like a pair of Mickey Mouse ears.

Of course, that is if you could actually see them. Dozens couldn’t because they were sitting behind Nigerian singer Temilade Openiyi. Nominated for Best Original Song, Lift Me Up, from Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, had clearly been eaten by a giant meringue. Struggling to get a view of the stage on either side of the massive monstrosity, the poor showbiz guys behind went home with whiplash after three hours of gauze torture.

Before the ceremony, both ABC (who broadcast the event) and ‘E’ brought us the usual round of interviews and information about who designed what. In ‘E’, the four most feared words had to be ‘Happened to you, Laverne.’

Laverne Cox was presenting from the red carpet, which this year was champagne-colored, apparently to provide a contrast to the red drapes. Totally meaningless. The carpet was beige at best, urine yellow at worst, and lacked the dramatic impact of red, which also shows off dresses and tuxedos so much more effectively. I’ve seen more attractive funeral homes.

The cheekbones were so pronounced that they looked in danger of swallowing whole heads; yes, I’m talking to Melissa McCarthy, Sigourney Weaver, Cate Blanchett and others here. If you go any higher, girls, they’ll be sitting on your heads like a pair of Mickey Mouse ears.

Laverne warmed to everyone. Well, it was more of an adjective throwing up. They were all ‘incredible’, ‘amazing’, just like their outfits. He was less enthusiastic.

There were notable exceptions, of course. Mindy Caling looked stunning in a white Vera Wang gown, which she swapped out for the black version when she presented an award. But Cate Blanchett looked better suited for the pre-ceremony ‘E’ brunch, where guests seemed to have stormed Target for her outfits.

Florence Pugh looked as if she had forgotten to take off her black bathing suit before having an encounter with a duvet. And the last time I saw a silver suit like Sigourney Weaver’s, it was wrapped around my turkey at Thanksgiving.

Sandra Oh wore orange, described by ‘E’ as ‘the least worn color on the carpet’. Yes. There is a reason for that. It’s the color you share with your toilet bowl after a heavy night on the town.

Then there was Eva Longoria, there to present an award, and whose breasts had decided to separate. They looked precariously balanced when she arrived at the Dolby Theater in Los Angeles and were barely held together by her Zuhair Murad dress, which she had to adjust before posing for photos.

When she took the stage, her left breast stayed in place, while her right was dipped so low it looked like she would need a visa to return to the country. It’s a fine line between a plunge and a lemming-style descent.

The rudeness was not limited to the outfits. Take Hugh Grant for example, and model Ashley Graham probably wished someone would. Trying to extract even the tiniest nugget of information from him was a harder job than lifting the Titanic.

Handily winning the award for worst red carpet interviewee, he was a source of boredom. All we got was that his tailor made his suit, and he didn’t really enjoy the ‘three seconds’ he was in Knives Out. He finished it off with an eye roll at the end that was just plain offensive. He no doubt he thought he was being funny. he wasn’t. He looked and acted like a jerk. If you don’t want to play ball, stay out of the stadium.

Inside the auditorium, host Jimmy Kimmel got off to a good start, with some good banter for select audience members.

Florence Pugh looked as if she had forgotten to take off her black bathing suit before having an encounter with a duvet.

Then there was Eva Longoria, there to present an award, and whose breasts had decided to separate.

Seth Rogan was sitting behind Stephen Spielberg, a couple Kimmel called “The Joe and Hunter Biden of Hollywood.” Rogan, of course, never stops talking about how much weed he smokes. The fact that he never shuts up on the subject should serve as a warning about a drug that clearly has the ability to make you a bore. Yeah, we know you smoke weed, dude. Get over. You are hardly Pablo Escobar.

The most excruciating segment was Kimmel’s mock questions to other audience members.

Listing the achievements of Malala Yousafzai, at 26, the youngest winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, he added a note of frivolity by asking her if she thought Harry Styles spat on Chris Pine (at the Venice Film Festival ).

God knows why people are upset about it, since it was clearly a staged section, as was his response: ‘I’m just talking about peace.’ Obviously, it was pre-written to give Kimmel a chance to praise his response and joke, ‘The winner is Malala La Land.’

Possibly less staged was the Cocaine Bear slapping Malala after an equally unfunny appearance on stage. The camera caught her putting her hand to her chest as her bear moved away from her and she seemed visibly disturbed. This is a woman who survived being shot in the face by the Taliban, so that will give you an idea of ​​how hideous the bear was.

There were inevitable tears in the speeches, most notably from Ke Huy Quan, who won Best Supporting Actor for Everything Everywhere All at Once.

Poignantly, he spoke of his “journey” (it’s an unwritten rule in Hollywood that everyone must put up with the J word) arriving on a boat and spending a year in a refugee camp. ‘This is the American Dream,’ he said and, addressing anyone watching, ‘Please keep your dreams alive.’

The movie cleaned up, with Everything Everywhere actor Daniel Kwan rather sweetly mentioning his low self-esteem issues while accepting the Original Screenplay award. Clearly, he had had the good fortune to run into a therapist in the bathroom, because when he picked up the Best Director award, his confidence had skyrocketed. “Thank you to everyone who has unlocked my genius,” he said. Please give me the number of that therapist.

The last time I saw a silver suit like Sigourney Weaver’s, it was wrapped around my turkey at Thanksgiving.

Three hours of slapping on the back is no substitute for a slap in the face. Where is Will Smith when you need him?

Laverne Cox was presenting from the red carpet, which this year was champagne-colored, apparently to provide a contrast to the red drapes.

Brendan Fraser won Best Actor in a Leading Role for The Whale, and he was so excited you couldn’t help but feel like the paramedics were unpacking their kit. Having a whale from a time that was not.

Fortunately, there was nothing for Cate Blanchett, who played Woman Waving Stick in the Air in the film Tár. She’s a great performer, but in that movie she looked like Animal conducting the Muppet Philharmonic. Instead, Best Actress in a Leading Role went to a feathered Michelle Yeoh, for whom Dior was kind enough to raid the local pelican sanctuary.

Songs from the nominated films were the highlights of a rather dull evening, with Naatu Naatu’s Kaala Bhairava winning Best Original Song. For me, it was such a scandal that I thought Cate Blanchett and her cane had been everywhere.

So, yet another year in Tinseltown, or Tarnishtown as it should be more aptly called in the post-Harvey Weinstein era.

On a night when so many different brightly colored dresses dominated the act, it was a true vision of Picasso on acid. And as a sleep aid, better than Temazepam.

It went off without incident, prompting Kimmel, as he was leaving the stage, to add the number 001 on a board announcing: “Number of uneventful Oscars broadcasts.”

Unfortunately, for ABC, that may have been the problem. Three hours of slapping on the back is no substitute for a slap in the face.

Where is Will Smith when you need him?