So, the Oscars happened. Seriously — what's up with Hollywood's Biggest Night of the Year (TM)? Last year was the writers' strike, but what was this year's excuse?

Producing a markedly lacklustre selection of movies isn't really much of an excuse.

How I long for the halcyon years of the early 2000s, when every year's Oscars-madness was crazier than the one before. There were movies like 'Chicago' and 'Lord of the Rings' winning Best Picture — they were awesome films; people were excited. Even the movies that lost out to them were incredible — 'Gangs of New York', 'Lost in Translation', 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon'.

And this year? Well, I must have drifted off around the time 'Poor People Experience Triumph of the Human Spirit' won its 17th statuette — certainly before 'Oh, Man, This Guy's Aging Backwards. It's Blowing My Mind!' failed to capitalise on almost all of its umpteen nominations.

But who thinks the Oscars are about the movies, anyway? Sure, you need great films to make the whole shebang exciting (rather than this year's lukewarm fest), but on the night it is, as I say every year, all about the clothes!

Except 2009's clothes were about as riveting as the movies. There were no moments of crushing jealousy, watching someone walk the red carpet in a dress so awesome that its not being mine was a crime against justice itself.

There were no moments of eye-watering horror, either. In fact, the closest we came to awful, was with Alicia Keys' unfortunate lilac rokkie, slit so high up the front that you felt you should at least have bought her dinner first.

There were, admittedly, a few other minor offenders against fashion.

There was Miley Cyrus, looking as if she'd spent the week before bedazzling her dress, for an overall effect that was simultaneously child-like (over-blown, sparkly gown) and whorish (pluuuunging neckline).

Still, her boobs were bare-able, very much unlike those of the grimacing menace that is Sophia Loren. Put them away, for the love of all things good!

And, of course, how could I not mention Valentino, who was so over tanned and hair-dyed that, as one friend remarked: "He looks like Sophia Loren." A compliment to neither, I fear.

There was also a much-scrutinised show of marital unity from Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick — much-scrutinised because of all those break-up rumours. Although, I submit that SJP took it too far in wearing what frighteningly resembled a (bad) wedding dress.

As for the Clash of the Titans — yawn. Did anyone really think things would be other than strained smiles when Jen Aniston and Brangelina were placed in close, public proximity for the first time?

Brangelina aside, how're things with Aniston and Mayer? Just peachy, they told a red-carpet interviewer. "Are you both happy?" she asked. "Very happy," replied Aniston.

Hey, she said it while pressed for time, in a high-pressure, paparazzi-infested, public setting — how could it not be true.

The only point I have to concede to Team Angelina, is that their girl sure can work the snappers. She turned that rictus grin from left to right, in a series a quick, studied jerks that made her look like an automatic sprinkler.

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