It’s 8 a.m. the morning after the Oscars, and am I groggy with a television-induced headache? No – because for once, I turned it off and went to bed. It was just too awful – Neil Patrick Harris, joke after stupid joke waiting for applause with a cute smile – what happened to his charm? And all those ridiculous dresses, enough already, enough enough enough. I could feel the way the night was going with all the love lavished on Wes Anderson. Perhaps I missed something – I started to watch “Grand Budapest Hotel” on an airplane and turned it off; it just seemed foolish to me, full of sound and fury – terrific sound and fury, much rewarded by Oscar, but signifying nothing. As far as I could see.

So I had the feeling that the predications would be right, that “Birdman” would overtake “Boyhood,” and I was right. “Birdman” is an excellent film, despite its flaws. But IMHO it’s hollow flash and dazzle compared to “Boyhood,” a beautiful, honest film about being alive that took enormous patience and courage to make. In 50 years, I do not think we’ll be much interested in Michael Keaton’s noisy breakdown and redemption, but I do think we’ll want to see an achingly true portrait of life.

I did get to enjoy the stirring “Glory” musical sequence, loved the always-classy Julie Andrews, thought the remembrance section was the best ever – beautiful artwork of those faces. And then I TURNED IT OFF. And now – off into Monday, fresh and bright. Thanks, Oscar!