Russell Crowe accepting the Best Actor award for Gladiator. The movie later won Best Picture. Academy Awards, 3/25/01

And so, given roughly 45 seconds (the edict from above), most winners resorted to the thanking list, making sure they paid homage to those who had a part in allowing them a healthy pay check, delivering little in the way of emotion. For the winners of awards such as Best Documentary, or Sound Editing, the ode to the higher powers like producers is a necessary means of staying in the business. But for actors – the people who pretend for a living – well, you'd think they'd be somewhat creative. And for those who paused momentarily, trying to think of something to add after thanking so many, there was the orchestra to play a few bars and get them off, stage right.

Julia Roberts accepting the Best Actress award for Erin Brockovich, 3/25/01

This year's host was Steve Martin, and rumor has it when he submitted his opening monologue it was returned by the Academy with suggestions for edits and deletions. Hmmm, Steve Martin, comic, author, playwright, etc., getting the red pen? I would have liked to see the stuff he trashed, because some of his opening lines were magic. Talking about Ellen Burstyn, who was nominated for Requiem for a Dream, he noted how "she had gained 30 pounds and looked like she aged 20, but Russell Crowe still hit on her." The Gladiator looked perturbed, sitting there sans Meg Ryan, and carried that scowl until he won for Best Actor, some three hours later. Martin struck again when he mentioned that "'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' sounded like something Siegfried and Roy do on vacation." Perhaps his funniest line, when talking about violence in the movies, was "I took a nine-year-old boy to see Gladiator, and he cried the whole way through. Maybe it's because he didn't know who I was." Martin was funny in a subdued and intelligent way, something that Billy Crystal was never able to be.

The parade of stars presenting awards was endless, from the opener of Catherine Zeta-Jones, who was wearing a gem that could have easily purchased a two-bedroom midtown apartment, to Julia Roberts, who had trouble walking in her lengthy gown and stiletto heels, to Winona Ryder, who walked to the wrong podium, realized her error, and walked across the stage to the correct one. Speaking of that, here's a tip to next year's producers; if you want to shave some time, don't have the presenters walk half a mile across stage to get to the mic.

Benicio Del Toro accepting the Best Supporting Actor award for Traffic. Marcia Gay Harden won Best Supporting Actress for Pollack.

As far as lively or spontaneous moments, there were few. Goldie Hawn provided one, when she flubbed her reading off the prompter, and exclaimed, "I knew I couldn't do this right!" and laughed. Another gem was singer Bjork's dress, which was a swan whose neck craned up over her left shoulder, came around the neck, with the head resting on the right side of her chest. The most inspired moment came when Bob Dylan, live from Sydney, Australia, was playing "Things Have Changed" from the Wonder Boys soundtrack. The camera would occasionally cut to faces in the crowd, and fortunately, caught Danny DeVito, second row, eating a carrot. At first, I was thrilled just to see Dylan, who with a pencil-thin mustache, is looking a lot like Vincent Price. But DeVito, wearing shades (didn't want to be recognized?), was priceless. And when Dylan was finished, Martin came tearing down the steps with a small dish, and said it was dip for him, at which point DeVito pulled out a piece of celery from his jacket.

Yes, Russell Crowe won Best Actor, and delivered a heartfelt speech about dreams coming true, and making it from the dumpy suburbs to the big time. And Julia Roberts, looking like a '70s wife running across the tarmac to greet her POW husband back from Vietnam, gushed like an oil well when she accepted for Best Actress, as if she never for a second thought she was talented, or a box-office draw, or had a chance at winning. But no need blaming the beautiful entertainer for the lack of entertainment, as the show itself was as enticing as a Republican convention. Perhaps the most bizarre element was Sir Arthur C. Clarke, live from his home in Sri Lanka, in front of a moonscape, presenting for adapted screenplay. I suppose it made a bit of sense to someone, as there was a loose 2001 Space Odyssey theme about the event, but the weirdness of it all, coming so late in the show, was unsettling.

There is one other point worth mentioning. Given the near daylong coverage of the goings on, the event seems to be approaching the overkill of Super Bowl Sunday, where coverage is nonstop, and new commercials blast away. Pepsi took the time to introduce spots featuring a lead-footed Britney Spears (watch her dance if you don't believe me, like a white guy – her body shakes like crazy, but her feet look like they weigh a hundred pounds a piece), and American Express threw on some new Seinfeld spots. Who knows, maybe the Oscars will overtake the Super Bowl for the unveiling of new commercials – and maybe nominated actors could get bit parts in them, as a way of extending their speeches. This is America, after all, and things like that happen.

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