You want to learn how to stop worrying and love the Oscars? Do what I do every year: As soon as you hear the fanfare, close your eyes, shut off your mind and think back to your childhood.
In my childhood, being a suburban kid in the age before multiplex cinemas had its advantages and disadvantages. On one hand, you didn't get to see many movies. Then again, when you did see them, they were on screens the size of a football field, and they'd been so prodigiously promoted that they were terrific events regardless of their quality as movies.
Did I mind that, during my formative years, the Oscars were always going to widescreen Technicolor blockbusters? No; I loved widescreen Technicolor blockbusters. For one thing, they provided the most likely excuse for family trips downtown to see a movie. For another, the Hollywood high-rollers were right: They did give you something you couldn't see on television.
Was I upset that West Side Story swept the Oscars in 1961, beating out The Hustler for best picture? No. I was sorry that The Guns of Navarone didn't sweep the Oscars instead.
I discovered as a teen-ager that the key to an enjoyable Oscar night is developing a monomaniacal rooting interest. In most years, I've managed to find a movie that is sufficiently big, oft-nominated and good -- or even great -- to justify my ruthless cheering, from Reds, E.T. and The Right Stuff to Babe and L.A. Confidential.
For this edition it's The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, which is nominated in so many categories I may get grumpy only during the best actor award, wondering why Elijah Wood didn't get a nod.
Already, the rational half of my brain is telling me the cause is doomed: The champ this year is almost sure to be A Beautiful Mind, which has just the sort of pseudo-compassion and intellectual patina that usually wins.
Victory for A Beautiful Mind will lead to the inevitable morning-after gripe session. It is always best to come fully prepared to such a session, ready to disown all residual affection for the Oscars.
My line will go something like this: "You think the Oscars mean anything? Why didn't Last Orders get nominated for best picture and Fred Schepisi for best director? Why wasn't Naomi Watts put up for best actress for Mulholland Drive? How come Waking Life didn't make the list for best animated feature?"