For Whom the Taco Bell Tolls: Backstage with the Rats, Scorsese and Shecky Gore

by Joal Ryan

5:55 p.m. ET:  If locusts are a sign of the apocalypse, can rats be a sign of a Martin Scorsese Oscar?

Hear me out: In New York City a couple of days ago, a dozen or so rats were caught scampering through a Taco Bell. Meanwhile, in Hollywood, The Departed, a movie about a dozen or so rats scampering through Boston, is contending at the Oscars.

Coincidence? I think not.

Either that, or the signs say we're going to have another six weeks of Peter O'Toole or winter or something. I get these things confused.

Here at the 79th Annual Academy Awards, the signs say Martin Scorsese is finally going to win.

6 p.m.:  No rats near the red carpet—only a couple of mice on a marquee across the street at Disney's El Capitan Theater.

6:01 p.m.:  What does an official Oscar greeter do when there's nobody to greet? In the case of Robert Osbourne, not much.

6:02 p.m.:  Crash's Paul Haggis, up tonight for the Letters from Iwo Jima screenplay, comes to Osbourne's rescue.

6:05 p.m.:  Memo to Oscar-nominated writers: If you want to be treated like a red carpet celebrity, show up early. That way, you, just like Mr. Whatshisname (I'm too far away to see or hear who) from Children of Men, can get interview time with the official Oscar greeter.

6:07 p.m.:  Maggie Gyllenhaal must like her post-baby figure. She's here early to show it off.

6:13 p.m.:  I peek into the window at Johnny Rockets—the Kodak Theatre is situated in the middle of an open-air mall—and what do I see? No rats. Hmmm...

6:16 p.m.:  The skies are gray. Just like in England. Where the queen lives. Hmmm...

6:17 p.m.:  If a yellow VW bus drives past me right now, it's all over for Scorsese.

7:05 p.m.:  Red carpet gridlock has arrived.

7:10 p.m.:  Helen Mirren trips a bit on her way up to talk to Oscar greeter Osbourne. I believe that's her first stumble of the awards-show season.

7:11 p.m.:  A Sally Kirkland sighting! It's official—we're at the Oscars!

7:12 p.m.:  Kirkland's twirling in her dress of many colors. And twirling...And twirling...

7:13 p.m.:  Kirkland has just entered restricted air space.

7:24 p.m.:  I'm standing at a window at the Kodak-adjacent Renaissance Hotel, which is what constitutes "backstage" at the Oscars. Outside, a squadron of black limos, SUVs and Lincoln Town Cars passes, along with one lonely, green-friendly Toyota Prius. Guess the producers of An Inconvenient Truth didn't send out enough screener tapes.

7:30 p.m.:  Let's take a look at the hot-beverage varieties available outside the interview room: Coffee, decaf, green tea, herbal tea, green tea with herbal tea, no proper black tea. Dame Mirren's gonna be ticked. I know I am.

7:55 p.m.:  The official Oscar program is, in a word, odd. It's this big long rectangular thing that you don't open, but rather flip through at the corners, thereby wasting about 50 percent of the dedicated paper. Al Gore's gonna be ticked. I know I am.

8 p.m.:  I call my husband to remind him to tape the Oscars. I might like to watch them later.

8:20 p.m.:  That paper-wasting Oscar program? It's an environmentally friendly paper-wasting Oscar program! A note from Oscar producer Laura Ziskin, on page 35, points out that tonight's paper products were selected "with a sensitivity toward reducing the threats we face from global warming."