Maybe it's the recession, maybe they're saving their best frocks for the Oscars. Whatever the reason, the BAFTAs was a distinctly gloomy gathering of the stars. Most of the frocks were black, whereas I was hoping for an explosion of colour as we've seen on the cat walks.
The only stars who stood out, to my mind, were Sharon Stone who J remarked "still looks good," in red, and Angelina Jolie, albeit in black but with a dash of citrus. I can't even remember what the gorgeous Penelope Cruz was wearing so it can't have been very memorable. "She looks rough" was J's remark about Kylie, in black. (Reminder to self: black now looks so boring!).
Meanwhile each category seemed to feature the same old films. I now have no inclination to watch either The Changeling or The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. I am quite enthusiastic now about Slumdog Millionaire and I've Loved You So Long. I can't believe how Mamma Mia hasn't won any awards - a marvellous feel good film, fantastic cinematography (and largely made at Pinewood - which wasn't mentioned when Pinewood was given its award).
The only surprises in proceedings were Mickey Rourke winning best actor, and Man On Wire defeating Slumdog Millionaire for Outstanding British Film. (I saw it recently and it really is the most marvellous documentary).
Plus, Mick Jagger was a big surprise. I've always discounted him as an ageing old lothario. But when he came bounding out on the stage I was struck by his charisma and his youthfulness. He was the only presenter who said anything remotely funny all night (sorry Jonathan Ross, but you were so busy minding your P's and Q's you weren't your normal ebullient, hilarious self - thanks prissy Daily Mail readers for that). Even my mother agreed and said she could almost fancy him herself.
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