Oh sure, the Oscars are a fine mess and you call the film critic in to make sense out of it. I once had a boiler guy refuse to come service my dying boiler in the dead of winter when I had shivering babies at home. “Polsky don’t come to your town never,” his secretary told me. “You tell Polsky one day he’s gonna need a film review and he can go f--- himself,” I said. Well, now Polsky is probably at home, unable to make sense out of the hot mess of the Oscars and needs a film critic. I’m here for you BGO peeps, not Polsky.