THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, March 31, 1996 TAG: 9603300036
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E10 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY MAL VINCENT, ENTERTAINMENT WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 99 lines
THE BILLION or so Oscar-watchers who tuned into last week's rite caught a glitzy, star-spangled production.
But the real action took place backstage Monday night, at rehearsal the evening before and at two of this year's most ``in'' parties: the Miramax do at Spago's and Vanity Fair's at Morton's. Everyone reacted to the Spago pizza as if it were manna from the gods.
Is there something vaguely ridiculous about this?
The Sunday-night rehearsal at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, which I managed to sneak into for the first time, was a spectacle in itself. ``Crimson Tide'' won an Oscar, ``Apollo 13's'' Kathleen Quinlan was named best supporting actress and ``Babe'' took best screenplay.
Of course, it was all make-believe. The rehearsal is held on the same stage with stand-ins accepting for those who would take home the gold Monday night.
Whoopi Goldberg was there, wearing jeans and a floppy shirt. The $2 million diamond necklace she wore Monday night was safely stashed away.
``Honey, how did you get in here?'' she shouted from the stage. ``Come back tomorrow night. I'll be dressed up then. But stick around. We'll have fun tonight, too.''
Sharon Stone wasn't there. Neither were Goldie Hawn or Pierce Brosnan. But they were introduced, and out traipsed some delightfully everyday folks who recited the lines you heard on air.
Did you think Kirk Douglas' tearful moment, when he said, ``There are my four sons over there, proud of their old man,'' was spontaneous? Guess again. A crew member played Douglas at rehearsal, reciting his speech word for word.
Stand-ins came to the stage to rehearse all the possibilities and, in many cases, their phony acceptance speeches were better than those given by the actual recipients. For the record, the rehearsal-night Oscar is made of wood.
While the presenters weren't there, the musical performers were. Bruce Springsteen ran through his ``Dead Man Walking'' number and left to a horde of autograph-seekers waiting at the door.
Bryan Adams, rehearsing ``Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman'' from ``Don Juan DeMarco,'' had more of a problem - make that problems. He was puzzled because he had to to start singing before the curtain went up, and because flamenco dancers were prancing around him. He demanded that the number be done three times.
``My friend,'' Goldberg asked, ``are you a professional?''
Unlike the other rehearsal-night performers, the orchestra was on duty all the time. Whoopi supported them when they demanded a timeout. ``I can't believe that no one realized that musicians do occasionally have to relieve themselves,'' she said.
The one thing that fooled me during rehearsal was the crafty way the crew avoided identifying which star would be on hand to talk about ``The Grapes of Wrath'' and ``Philadelphia.'' When Christopher Reeve, paralyzed from the neck down after that horrible riding accident in Culpeper, Va., introduced the film clips Monday night, it made for one of the show's most moving surprises.
The rehearsal ran on past midnight, but the crew would get little rest. They had to be back at 8 Monday morning.
Oscar day wasn't without its drama. The bleachers outside the pavilion were emptied after a plank broke and a woman sprained her ankle. No screaming fans? The producers were mortified. Moments before the first star arrived (James Cromwell from ``Babe''), the fire marshal relented.
Some of Monday night's best quotes were saved for backstage, where the breathless winners met the harried and hustling press. It's a wonder how an Oscar can tame even the toughest and most outspoken actor.
When the usually outspoken Susan Sarandon won for ``Dead Man Walking,'' everyone was expecting the kind of speech that would do Jane Fonda proud.
They didn't get it. Clutching her Oscar backstage, she was more like Alice in Wonderland than Joan of Arc. ``It's heavier than I thought,'' Sarandon said, lifting the golden fella for another look.
She and Tim Robbins, a best-director nominee, began the day playing baseball with their kids at a public park. ``Then, this team of some 15 people arrived at the house to get us ready,'' Sarandon said, still bewildered by the experience.
After seeing a photograph of her announcement-reaction, she exclaimed, ``I look like I'm having a stroke.''
Nicolas Cage, named best actor for ``Leaving Las Vegas,'' said he never took seriously the predictions that his Oscar was a sure thing. ``I never take anything for granted. I didn't believe I had won until I heard the name.''
Likewise, Mel Gibson, wearing his lucky Scotch-plaid vest, wasn't worried that the smart money called for an ``Apollo 13'' upset because director Ron Howard had won the coveted Director's Guild Award, usually a forecast of what will transpire Oscar night. Even to the last moment, ``Braveheart'' hadn't beaten ``Apollo 13'' in a single, head-to-head competition.
``All I read about earlier in the day was that we wouldn't win,'' Gibson said. ``It's nice to see that they were wrong.''
Twenty-five members of the Sorvino family flew in from New York to see Mira win best supporting actress for ``Mighty Aphrodite.''
``We've been having family dinners for the past three nights,'' she said. ``They were so supportive. I'm glad I won, for them. They wanted it so much for me.''
Emma Thompson, who won for writing the script for ``Sense and Sensibility,'' was candid, saying she also had hoped to win the best actress honor. ``I want them all,'' she quipped.
But the most popular of all the winners was James Acheson, who won the costume design for ``Restoration.'' He was letting people hold his Oscar.
And, yes, it is heavy. by CNB