The big worry was the rain. It started to drizzle as our limousine approached
the Kodak Theatre. But a canopy covered the red carpet so we were safe. The
carpet is huge and long, and if you share it with a famous actor or actress,
you soon realise what an animalistic affair it is. The press is caged, up to
their waists, behind barriers. When they see a star, such as George Clooney
or John Travolta - who was just behind me - the cries and screaming begin:
“George! George! John! John!” The stars know what to do, they're very good
at it. They know the media's job, and the media knows the stars know their
jobs.
My publicist guided me to the few specialist publications, but even those
journalists looked over my shoulder to Travolta. You feel like saying: “You
don't know what I do, you don't know what a writer is.”
The theme on the red carpet this year was bosoms. I've never seen so much
décolleté. Bustlines were slashed to the navel. I saw a lot of Heidi Klum,
for example. Her stylist complimented my wife Natasha on her Armani outfit.
Many actresses might just as well have been nude. I told Anne Hathaway that
she looked beautiful. We kept bumping into each other and eventually I told
her to stop following me. I am still starstruck, even though I have been in
the business a long time. Tom Hanks always surprises me because he's so
modest-looking for a movie star.
The security is immense. There are men in black with earpieces every three or
four yards. They check the undercarriage of your limo with a mirror, and at
my hotel - The Four Seasons, where around 50 of the nominees are staying -
they ask you at the lifts for your name and identification, and which room
you are in. And as an Oscar nominee, you are wonderfully looked-after the
whole time: someone escorts you everywhere
As soon as we got inside the auditorium I went to the smoking area on the
third floor. “You're going to win” - everyone says that to you, so many that
it might seem you are about to win by a landslide. (The film producer)
Norman Jewison shouted across the room: “I voted for you, Ronnie.” The thing
that horrified me was that the men were wearing black ties, not bow ties,
with their dinner jackets. I hate this vile new fashion. There is an
inverted snobbery going on: they don't want to look old-fashioned or too
august, but as a result they look underdressed and dreadful.
My wife and I took our seats half-an-hour before the show began, but people
normally sit down with five minutes to go. The stars are in the central
block so that they are easy for the cameras to locate. Jack Nicholson always
sits - behind dark glasses - in the second row. He shouts at the presenters
and they tell jokes at his expense. The writers are placed on the aisle. I
was sitting next to Christopher Hampton (nominated for Atonement). We both
knew that we weren't going to win and both correctly predicted that the Coen
brothers would. I think theirs is a brilliant film. I didn't feel any
bitterness. As you sit there, you concentrate on the envelope. After it was
announced I turned to Christopher and said: “I told you so.”
The show was slick and had a wonderful, warm atmosphere, considering that they
had such a short time to prepare. It was the best Oscars ceremony I have
attended: at the first there were too many cameras obscuring my view; at the
second (when I won for The Pianist) the atmosphere was muted because of
Iraq. Sunday night's ceremony was a celebration of film, a joyful event, and
there was a sense of relief that the writers' strike had been resolved. Jon
Stewart is a great host: he knows the game, knows Hollywood, knows how it
works. During the advert breaks there is organised chaos as people go off
for a drink or smoke or to the toilet, and smartly dressed extras take their
seats. A man's voice counts down “5, 4, 3, 2, 1” as the ad break draws to a
close. The extras, always ready to be called, congregate in the lobby.
I saw George Clooney in the auditorium. He's charming. We wished each other
good luck - but in the manner of two people who knew that they weren't going
to win. When I asked him later whether he'd had a good night, he said: “We
didn't win, but we've got one already.” He's right; it does make it easier
if you've won one before. That sense of “I have to win this” just isn't
there. You realise it's just part of the game.
I've known Daniel Day-Lewis for years - he was at Bedales with my son - and
when I caught up with him at the ceremony he was apologetic as he'd missed
my category. His kneeling before Dame Helen Mirren to accept the Oscar was a
lovely touch. I was sitting behind Glen Hansard (who won Best Original Song
for Once). The film was made for nothing, and he is a charming man,
unassuming, and seemed like a child in fairyland. His mother, when his name
was announced, flushed a deep red, her jaw dropped and there were tears in
her eyes. I congratulated her afterwards and she just couldn't speak.
I saw Javier Bardem at Miramax's pre-Oscars party on Friday night and he was,
rightly, confident that he was going to win Best Supporting Actor. My
grand-daughter will be thrilled that I got a picture taken with Allison
Janney (who appeared in Juno), whom I met at the Spirit Awards for
independent film, held in Malibu on Saturday.
The loveliest speech was by the designer Robert Boyle, who won an Honorary
Academy Award and who is 98. He gave a terrific speech in praise of film.
Diablo Cody (the screenwriter of Juno) gave me a great big hug.
I was thrilled that Marion Cotillard won Best Actress - it's a wonderful
performance. We sat next to each other at the Oscar nominees' lunch, which
was lovely - at that point there are no winners or losers. I had no idea who
she was and asked her what she was nominated for. “Playing Edith Piaf,” she
replied. I nearly fell of my chair: she's so childlike. She was genuinely
bewildered by what happened to her. That's a difference between European and
American winners - someone like Diablo Cody would be delighted and thrilled
by her success, but wouldn't have had that same sense of sheer shock that
Cotillard experienced. At the same luncheon we all had our photo taken next
to a huge Oscar; because of the way they had seated me, George Clooney
joked: “Ronnie, you look like you have your head up its ass.”
I think Julie Christie will have been disappointed by not winning Best
Actress, but she's a very good actress and there'll always be another film.
We shared a sneaky cigarette outside the Baftas and commiserated about how
dreadful it was that smokers were made to stand out in the cold. She has
this wonderful trick of concealing her cigarette in the underside of her
palm.
After the ceremony Natasha and I went to the Governors' Ball, where there was
a band playing what they would no doubt describe as music, but it was
unbearably loud. It was like being in a disco. We were hungry by then - we
had left the hotel at 3pm and it was now 9pm. We were surrounded by a
seething mass of people. We had baked potatoes with sour cream and little
hamburgers with cheese - and champagne, of course.
Everyone, including our chauffeur, was saying that Elton John's party was
awful and not to bother going, so we didn't, and after the Governors' Ball
we went to the Miramax party, where I saw Cormac McCarthy (who wrote the
novel of No Country For Old Men). I asked if he was pleased with what the
Coen brothers had done with it and he said he was. You couldn't hear a word
anyone was saying because the noise was so insane, so we came back to the
hotel and had what has become our Oscar night ritual: chicken soup (the Four
Seasons' version, with matzo balls, is the best in the world), and bagels
with cream cheese. And then, thankfully, we went to sleep.
Interview by TIM TEEMAN
Ronald Harwood was nominated for an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay for The
Diving Bell and the Butterfly. He won an Oscar in the same category in 2002
for The Pianist and was nominated in 1983 for The Dresser. His forthcoming
films are Love In The Time of Cholera, directed by Mike Newell, and
Australia, directed by Baz Luhrmann, which
