PRESENT TENSE: For an industry that is hell-bent on entertaining the public, Hollywood has yet to figure out how to put on a decent Oscars show, writes Shane Hegarty.
Poorly produced, overly-scripted and with its set cobbled together from the uncharred bits of the Towering Inferno, this year's telecast dragged on for 200 minutes - longer than most trilogies.
Even the highlights package on RTÉ the next night seemed to run longer than a cricket test match. And yet, it still left out the event's one true highlight: Marketa Irglova's speech.
In the long adventure of Once- made, as you'll know by now, for €100,000, with two handicams, over three weeks in Dublin - its biggest boost was not its reception in the US. It was not the Grammy nominations, nor the Oscar nomination.
It was not the well-publicised debate over whether Falling Slowlywas actually eligible for Best Original Song. It was not Colin Farrell introducing it on Oscar night as "the little movie that could". And it was not Glen Hansard and Irglova's subsequent performance of the song; his grandfather suit and guitar with more holes than is common providing a salty antidote to the saccharine extravagance of the other nominees.
No, its biggest, most unlikely boost came after Hansard had used up their allotted 45 seconds and the orchestra - more ruthless this year than ever before - struck up just as Irglova opened her mouth to speak.
The breaching of etiquette that allowed her to return to give that speech was one of the few things on the night that made the 32 million US viewers (the least ever) stir on their sofas.
Maybe it was the way she kind of lolloped on stage, tomboyish, as if she'd be swapping the dress for jeans at the first opportunity. Maybe it was how she greeted a room filled with the world's most famous people with "Hi, everyone".
But it was immediately likeable. In the wrong hands, her speech would have been horrible.
"The fact that we're standing here tonight, the fact that we're able to hold this, it's just to prove no matter how far out your dreams are, it's possible," she said. "And, you know, fair play to those who dare to dream and don't give up. And this song was written from a perspective of hope, and hope at the end of the day connects us all, no matter how different we are."
Can you imagine if that had been delivered by Halle Berry or Gwyneth Paltrow or pretty much anyone without a Czech accent mashed with some Irish and spoken by a 19-year-old so clearly unburdened by fame? It should have been mawkish and embarrassing and minced by critics and bloggers and chat show hosts. Instead, it became the feel-good story of the year.
Across the media - print, broadcast and online - it was picked as a highlight of the night. The Dallas Morning Newseven wrote an editorial about it.
"There was at least one real-life triumph of the human spirit at this year's Oscars," it announced.
"There they were, against all odds, these two obscure musicians, stars of a movie made for less than the catering budget of a Hollywood blockbuster, performing their love song live for a worldwide television audience. Moments later, they both held Oscars in their hands . . It's a cynical world, full of violence, mayhem and evil. But every now and then, the good guys win."
It was the thing that host Jon Stewart was telling his audience about when he had returned to his nightly satire show later in the week, even discussing it with his guest Madeleine Albright, of all people.
Stewart may have described them as "the two kids from Once" (Hansard is 37), but he said that Irglova's moment was the thing he had been most asked about since Oscar night.
As it happened, after Irglova had first been cut off, Stewart's priority had been to squeeze in a prepared joke about John Travolta before going to a commercial break.
But in bringing her back, much of the delight had come not simply because of his breach of etiquette but because he had beaten the hated orchestra.
So, while the Irish media has been focused on Hansard's moment in a spotlight somewhat bigger than the Olympia's, the Czechs are understandably delighted with their home-grown success (that country's first female Oscar winner).
But, more interesting is how Irglova has become a global story too. You had to feel a little sorry for John Carney, who wrote and directed the film, only to find that he didn't get a mention at the moment it got a bit of Oscar glory.
But ultimately his movie won something possibly more valuable than an award. It struck on a moment of raw, untainted and delightful surprise in the middle of a global yuckfest. Half a minute when anyone reaching for the sick bag in anticipation might have found themselves using it to dab their eyes instead.