B-Listers

"So," I ask, "is the idea really that we're going to sit around and watch the Oscars on television?"

"Well," replies the nice lady in line, "they're pretty spectacular televisions."

She isn't lying, since we've gathered at the Sony Style Home Entertainment Lounge for the 5th Annual Party and Screening of the Academy Awards & Benefit for In the Life Media.

In the Life, for those too homophobic to know, is the gay-themed PBS show that really belongs on the Sci-Fi Channel, judging from the press release claiming that the latest airing has Harvey Fierstein complaining about the media ignoring "the right to gay marriage." We're also assured during a commercial break that the show is "saving lives and changing lives." This makes up for how the Academy forgets to drag Whoopi Goldberg out for some similar self-congratulatory excess.

Oh, and we're also assured that In the Life is "showing the face of gay America to the Religious Right." I'm sure the Religious Right isn't missing an episode. After all, it's their tax dollars at work.

This is still a very pleasant way to spend the Oscars. The televisions really are spectacular, and it's interesting to be amongst the kind of people who laugh at Sean Penn's crack about WMDs. I haven't watched the Oscars with a crowd this leftist since a long evening at the offices of the Daily News. These In the Lifers can be fairly catty, though, as seen when the sisterhood betrays Renée Zellweger with some catcalls about her gown.

The Academy Awards and last week's finale of Sex and the City make for two Gay Super Bowls in less than a month. The next night, however, qualifies more when Dave Gahan of Depeche Mode screens the theatrical debut of his Live Monsters concert DVD. That Paper Monsters solo album was actually pretty good, so it's not surprising that Gahan draws a good-sized crowd as he signs autographs at the Union Square Virgin Megastore.

He's doing so beneath a poster that invites us to "experience the lead singer of Depeche Mode as you've never seen him before." This presumably means without a needle hanging from his arm, since most of this crowd looks like they haven't been out of mom's basement since 1996. I always love this kind of thing and am very touched by the look of sheer joy that crosses a person's face when he gets to be in the company of somebody that he never dreamt he might meet.

I'm referring, of course, to Gahan's expression when an African-American female fan approaches the autograph table. I'm reminded of the pained look I recently got from Jules Shear when I recognized him in a record store. Sorry, Jules. It would be nice if you'd cultivated a younger and more urban audience, but that wasn't in the cards for either of us.

Everyone looks and feels like aging white guys at the screening for Starsky & Hutch, too, which is the Super Bowl for Hackety Hacks Eager to Churn Out Gay References. In truth, Starsky & Hutch is a Heterosexual Male Super Bowl?mainly due to Amy Smart and Carmen Electra as professional cheerleaders who share team spirit and spit.

I resent Huggy Bear's retooling as a supercool crime lord, though, and no rapper's appearance can ease my pain at Snoop Dogg's Premiere Party at the Social Club. Not that anybody's counting on that appearance. The last Snoop Dogg party I attended was at the Hustler Hollywood Store. There are probably still people browsing through lubes while waiting for him to appear.

At least I'm happy to find that?unlike most parties I'm invited to?nobody asks me for money at the door. Also, the big-screen monitor is showing the original ABC Starsky and Hutch TV-movie. You can tell because Bernie Hamilton isn't in the cast. This allows me to get drunk while watching Richard Lynch on a big screen worthy of the Sony Style Home Entertainment Lounge. It's the best movie-going experience that I've had in a while.

And yet I would've put off attending until the next night if I'd known that the Social Club was hosting a benefit for Israeli Defense Forces. After Starsky & Hutch's Jew-baiting, Ben Stiller could have stood to done some hosting. And did anybody else notice that Jewphobic wedding sequence in Along Came Polly? Or maybe I'm just being paranoid. Besides, we all know how vigilant film critics are about that kind of thing.

[jrt@nypress.com](mailto:jrt@nypress.com)