Thankfully, the collective memory of the "Snow White" disaster faded as the ceremony found its footing. The awkward energy in the room dissipated, replaced by the familiar, high-stakes tension of career-defining moments.
The focus shifted rapidly to the awards, and the night started strong for Alex's team.
The focus shifted rapidly to the awards, and the night started strong for Alex's team.
The music played, and Melanie Griffith and Don Johnson walked out arm-in-arm to present Best Supporting Actress.
They were one of Hollywood's most famous real-life couples, and the chemistry between them was undeniable. Melanie was glowing, nominated tonight for Best Actress for Working Girl, while Don stood beside her with the effortless cool that had made him a star as Sonny Crockett in Miami Vice.
"The nominees for Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role are," Melanie announced.
"Joan Cusack for Working Girl." "Geena Davis for The Accidental Tourist." "Frances McDormand for Mississippi Burning." "Michelle Pfeiffer for Dangerous Liaisons." "And Brenda Fricker for My Left Foot."
A beat of silence followed. The camera cut to the five women.
Melanie turned to Don, who tore open the envelope and pulled out the card.
"And the Oscar goes to..." Don said.
They leaned in and announced the name together.
"Brenda Fricker... My Left Foot!"
The camera zoomed in on Brenda. She looked genuinely stunned, blinking rapidly as if waking from a dream. She sat frozen for a moment before the realization hit. She stood up, looking overwhelmed, and made her way to the stage to the sound of thunderous applause.
Taking the statue from Don Johnson, she stepped to the microphone, clutching the gold figure tightly. She took a breath, looking out at the sea of faces, her voice trembling slightly with emotion.
"I don't believe this," she began, her Irish lilt echoing through the hall. "I'd like to thank every single member of the crew who worked on My Left Foot, who created an atmosphere of fun and love and hard work."
She looked down at the statue, then back up, her eyes finding the camera.
"I'd like to thank Christy Brown, just for being alive," she said, her voice thickening. "And I'd like to thank Mrs. Brown, his mother. Anybody who gives birth twenty-two times deserves one of these, I think."
The audience laughed and cheered warmly.
"I'd like to thank Jim Sheridan for the best script I've ever been involved in, and for just being the most incredible director. And Noel Pearson and Hayes Productions for producing the film."
She lifted the Oscar slightly, a beaming smile finally breaking through the shock.
"And the members of the Academy for giving me this, which I will take very proudly with me back to Ireland. Thank you."
Alex applauded watching as she walked off stage, the first victory of the night secured
As the night progressed, the awards came in a flurry, a mix of expected victories and industry favorites.
Kim Novak and Jimmy Stewart presented Best Sound to the team behind Bird and Best Sound Effects Editing to Who Framed Roger Rabbit.
Robert Downey Jr. and Cybill Shepherd handed Best Makeup to the creative team of Beetlejuice.
Patrick Swayze presented Best Original Score to Dave Grusin for The Milagro Beanfield War.
Then, The Princess Bride began its march.
Bo Derek and Dudley Moore presented Best Costume Design, handing the statue to Phyllis Dalton for her work on The Princess Bride.
Shortly after, Sammy Davis Jr. and Gregory Hines announced that "Storybook Love" from The Princess Bride had won Best Original Song.
Then came the category of Best Supporting Actor.
The music swelled with a dramatic, orchestral flair as three men walked out. The audience erupted into cheers. It was a rare gathering of cinematic royalty—Michael Caine, Sean Connery, and Roger Moore.
After the usual banter and playful jabs about who was the "real" James Bond, the trio settled down to business.
"The nominees for Best Actor in a Supporting Role are," Sean Connery announced in his famous baritone.
"Alec Guinness in Little Dorrit." "Kevin Kline in A Fish Called Wanda." "Alex Hayes in Rain Man."
Michael Caine stepped forward for the next one. "River Phoenix in Running on Empty."
And finally, Roger Moore read the last name. "Dean Stockwell in Married to the Mob."
The camera cut to Alex. He sat perfectly still, a polite, frozen smile on his face. This was the one he had wanted. The role of Charlie Babbitt had been a risk, and the nomination was the validation. But the comedy buzz for Kline had been deafening all week.
Michael Caine opened the envelope.
"And the Oscar goes to..."
He glanced at the card.
"Kevin Kline in A Fish Called Wanda!"
Alex released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He immediately began clapping, watching Kevin Kline kiss his wife, Phoebe Cates, before sprinting up the stairs. Though he had half-expected it, the loss still stung.
"You should have won," Claudia whispered.
"Kevin was brilliant," Alex replied, his voice even. "He deserved it."
The show moved on.The Bridges family— Lloyd Bridges, flanked by his two famous sons, Beau and Jeff—took the stage to present Best Visual Effects to Who Framed Roger Rabbit.
Geena Davis and Jeff Goldblum presented Best Documentary Short, followed by Edward James Olmos and Max von Sydow presenting for Best Documentary Feature.
And The Princess Bride kept winning. Demi Moore and Bruce Willis handed the award for Best Cinematography to Adrian Biddle for his stunning work on the fantasy epic.
After the short film awards—presented by Carrie Fisher and Martin Short—the room grew quiet. It was time for the heavyweights, starting with Best Actor. It was considered the toughest battle of the decade.
Last year's winner, Michael Douglas, walked out with the envelope.
He looked relaxed, commanding the stage with the ease of Hollywood royalty.
"Thank you," Douglas said, resting his hands on the podium. "There is nothing more difficult and subjective than assembling five extraordinarily gifted actors and choosing one of them to receive an Oscar."
He paused, scanning the audience.
"But we must remember the stated purpose of the founders of the Academy back in 1927. This award was to serve as a constant incentive. So, holding that thought, we will remind ourselves of the stunning work done this year by these five artists."
He looked down at the list on the podium and simply read the names, letting the weight of each performance hang in the air.
"Tom Hanks for Big."
"Dustin Hoffman for Rain Man."
"Edward James Olmos for Stand and Deliver."
"Daniel Day-Lewis for My Left Foot."
"Alex Hayes for Sex, Lies, and Videotape."
The camera panned to each actor in the audience as their name was called.
"And the Oscar goes to..."
Douglas opened the envelope. He took a moment, his eyebrows raising slightly as he read the name.
"Daniel Day-Lewis for My Left Foot!"
Dustin Hoffman's shoulders slumped slightly, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face, but he applauded.
Alex clapped hard and genuinely. He felt no sense of loss; he had expected this. He knew better than anyone the physical and emotional torture Daniel had endured for this role. There was no question—he deserved it.
Daniel hugged his castmates, and before heading to the stairs, he approached Alex, shaking his hand firmly with a look of intense gratitude.
He bounded up to the stage, shaking his long hair out of his face, and took the statue from Michael Douglas. He stepped to the microphone, looking down at the Oscar and then out at the cheering crowd, a breathless smile on his face.
"You've just provided me with the makings of one hell of a weekend in Dublin," he said, his voice soft but carrying clearly.
The audience laughed and cheered. Daniel took a moment, gathering his thoughts.
"I shared Christy's life for a while with a remarkable young actor called Hugh O'Conor. But for everyone involved in the film, all our desire to make the film, all the strength that we needed, all the pleasure that we took in making the film, came from Christy Brown."
He paused, his expression turning serious and reverent.
"When he was alive, he needed very little encouragement to make his voice heard. Um... now he needs a little more. And I'm truly grateful to you that in honoring me with this award, you're encouraging Christy to carry on making his mark."
He lifted the statue slightly.
"Thank you very much indeed."
With this My Left Foot had just secured two acting Oscars, a feat no one had predicted for the small Irish production.
The final stretch of the night evolved into a heavyweight duel between Rain Man and The Princess Bride.
First came Best Film Editing, a category often seen as a bellwether for Best Picture. Farrah Fawcett and Ryan O'Neal presented the award. The Princess Bride took the statue, striking a blow against Rain Man.
But Rain Man bounced back. When Richard Dreyfuss and Amy Irving presented Best Original Screenplay, Rain Man took the prize.
For Best Adapted Screenplay. Michelle Pfeiffer and Dennis Quaid handed the statue to William Goldman for The Princess Bride, securing another major victory for the fantasy epic.
Then came the award that often determined the night's final outcome. The Best Director award.
Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell walked out to wild applause. They were Hollywood's most charismatic unmarried couple, and the chemistry sizzled the moment they reached the microphone.
Goldie turned to Kurt, beaming.
"Honey, I was just thinking back there that we fit in completely to the theme of the show because we are co-stars, we're compadres, we're companions, and we're a couple."
Kurt looked at her smiling. "There's only one thing we're not."
"What?" Goldie asked.
"Married."
The audience laughed.
"Is that a proposal?" Goldie asked, fluttering her eyelashes.
"I don't know," Kurt teased. "You're putting me on the spot. I guess now is as good a time as any to answer that, I..."
He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, looking toward the wings and nodding as if he were listening to a voice from backstage.
"Oh, they want us to speed things up," he said, cutting the topic off right in the middle with a look of mock relief. He turned back to Goldie. "Listen, we'll talk about it later tonight, okay?"
Goldie froze. She gave an exaggerated expression of confusion, tilting her head and looking around toward the wings to see who exactly had spoken from backstage. As the audience erupted in laughter, she dropped the act and broke into a wide smile.
"The role of a director needs no explanation," Goldie said, getting back on script. "And the nominees are..."
She read the first three with her trademark sparkle:
"Charles Crichton, the veteran comedy director whose fresh catch was A Fish Called Wanda;"
"Barry Levinson, who examined autism, brotherly love, and a new way to beat the house at Caesar's Palace in Rain Man;"
"Alan Parker, who shone his light on a dark chapter in American race relations in Mississippi Burning."
Kurt took over for the final two.
"Jim Sheridan, who brought the indomitable spirit and struggle of Christy Brown to life in My Left Foot;"
"Rob Reiner, who proved that true love is the greatest thing in the world—except for a nice MLT—in The Princess Bride."
(Note: For those unfamiliar with Miracle Max's secret to a happy life, an MLT is a mutton, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, "where the mutton is nice and lean and the tomato is ripe.")
"And the Oscar goes to..." Goldie opened the envelope.
"Barry Levinson for Rain Man!"
The Rain Man team erupted in cheers as Barry Levinson made his way to the stage. Rob Reiner clapped graciously; while a flicker of disappointment touched his face, he settled into a look of quiet acceptance.
From his position in the wings, Alex saw Barry Levinson heading to the stage, feeling genuinely happy for him.
Alex checked his tie in a mirror and took a steadying breath. As for why he was backstage instead of in his seat? It was because he was the next presenter. The stage manager signaled him, and he moved toward the entrance just as Barry finished his speech, ready to step out and announce the winner for Best Actress.
Alex stepped out onto the stage and moved to the podium amidst a roar of cheers, looking out at the sea of expectant faces.
"The five women we honor tonight with nominations for Best Actress in a leading role have proven to be as resilient as they are talented," Alex began, his voice steady. "We salute them for their outstanding effort with these nominations."
The TV cameras cut to the high-definition "reaction shots," capturing each actress in a tight frame as Alex read their names:
"Glenn Close for Dangerous Liaisons," "Jodie Foster for The Accused," "Melanie Griffith for Working Girl," "Meryl Streep for A Cry in the Dark," and "Sigourney Weaver for Gorillas in the Mist."
Alex opened the envelope, the crisp sound of the paper echoing through the microphone. He smiled. "And the Oscar goes to... Jodie Foster for The Accused!"
The audience erupted. Jodie Foster stood up, looking overwhelmed, and made her way to the stage. As she reached Alex, he held out the golden statue. She took it with trembling hands, then pulled him into a warm, lingering hug, briefly touching her cheek to his in a gesture of pure, shared joy.
She turned to the microphone, breathless.
"This is such a big deal, and my life is so simple," she began, clutching the award. "There are very few things. There's love, and work, and family. And this movie was so special to us because it was all three of those things."
She thanked her crew and her cast, her voice gaining strength as she reached the heart of her message.
"Most importantly, I want to thank my mother, Brandy, who taught me that all of my finger paintings were Picassos, and that I didn't have to be afraid. And mostly, she taught me that cruelty might be very human, and it might be very cultural, but it's not acceptable. Which is what this movie is about. Thank you so much!"
Alex stood back, applauding as she held the Oscar and left the stage.
The final, biggest award of the night had arrived. Alex stayed in the wings, watching from the monitors as the legendary Cher strode onto the stage to a deafening roar. Dressed in a signature, head-turning outfit, she approached the microphone with effortless confidence.
"Thank you," she said, waiting for the applause to simmer. "The nominees for Best Picture are..."
She read the nominees.
"Mississippi Burning, Frederick Zolo and Robert F. Colesberry, Producers."
"Rain Man, Mark Johnson, Producer."
"My Left Foot, Noel Pearson, Producer."
"Dangerous Liaisons, Norma Heyman and Hank Moonjean, Producers."
"The Princess Bride, Andrew Scheinman, Rob Reiner, and Alex Hayes, Producers."
Alex felt his heart hammering against his ribs. This was the culmination of everything—the long nights, the budget battles, and the unwavering belief in a story many had once called "unfilmable."
Cher opened the envelope. She looked at the card, a genuine smile spreading across her face.
"And the winner is... The Princess Bride!"
The Pavilion erupted into a standing ovation. In the wings, Alex froze for a split second as the reality of the words washed over him. He stepped out from the shadows and headed toward the bright lights of the stage while the orchestra began the triumphant theme of the film.
He met Cher at center stage, joining Andrew and Rob. As Cher handed over the Oscar, Alex felt its cool, solid weight—the ultimate validation. He was in a daze; although he had won before for Catch Me If You Can, this felt more special. It meant his first win wasn't a fluke and that the film he loved had finally received validation from both the Academy and the audience.
As Andrew and Rob finished their speeches, it was Alex's turn. He moved to the microphone, looking out at the glittering crowd.
"I've been told for the past few weeks that maybe I should prepare for this," Alex began, his voice thick with emotion. "But nothing can truly prepare you for this moment. The Princess Bride belongs to so many people."
He looked toward the cast and crew in the front rows.
"To William Goldman, who gave us this world. To our incredible cast who made this happen. And to the fans who believed in this story as much as we did."
He lifted the Oscar high.
"As you wish!"
The crowd cheered one last time as the curtains began to close on the 61st Academy Awards.