Long live Justine Triet! | Louison
I will warn you right away, this column was written just after having shampooed more than three kilometers of red carpet, so if I make a typo, you can only blame it on Hollywood. Hauliwoude? Olivoudde? I don’t know anymore, I have the vapors of solvents going up into my sinuses faster than comments arriving on Twitter completely perched on official posters of Paris Olympics.
(Besides, in this regard, did you know that the Vélib’ were knights of the apocalypse sent by Satan himself to punish our feminist-vegan-Masonic civilizations?)
But I digress.
Although not so much when you think about it, because this week I’m talking to you about the red carpet and therefore Oscarsand certain delusions of the extreme right on the posters by the illustrator Ugo Gattoni are still worth two or three nominations for the prize for best original screenplay, subcategory “paranoid who didn’t take his drops”.
But hey, coming back to the Oscars, while waiting for all of Hollywood to come and tread on the crimson carpet that I had a hard time cleaning last year, let’s talk a little movie theaterlet’s do a flashback, based on a rear tracking shot.
Engine, silence requested, it is running.
Already, for those who have just spent a large part of their life in a cellar, a cave, a deep coma, or in the retrograde and without wi-fi world of those who fast and pray when are registered fundamental rights for women in the Constitutionlet’s take a look at what the Oscars are.
To give you an idea, the Oscars are to the Césars what chateaubriand is to hamburger steak and fries at a motorway station.
Or the writer François-René de Chateaubriand to Yann Moix.
The same concept, it’s true, but not at all mastered in the same way.
At the Oscars, in 2017 for example, Justin…
2024-03-10 00:40:45
#Monday #Oscars
