“What are you excited to see tonight?” the model and TV presenter Ashley Graham asked Hugh Grant on the red carpet of last year’s Oscars. “To see?” Grant replied, his voice a splice of scorn and disbelief, as if she’d just said something so stupid that he needed to give her the benefit of the doubt and check that she had really said it. Graham became flustered, and her next question was even baggier. Did he have his hopes up for anyone? “No one in particular.”
The conversation disintegrated fast. “What are you wearing tonight?” “Just my suit,” he overenunciated, to underline his caustic disregard. The whole exchange makes you want to die for her, but also kill him, but also die for him, and – OK – kill her. From every angle, it is terrible to behold. As this year’s ceremony approaches, those of a sensitive disposition will be weighing up whether they can bear to watch. It’s just become so awkward.
