Maybe they should just go all out and drop best movie and best performance in favor of categories like best inconsistent British accent or best agent or best teeth. Matt Dillon, Matt Damon -- lots of good movie teeth in 1998. Puffy the dog in "There's Something About Mary." Geoffrey Rush in "Shakespeare in Love." I don't know, just an idea. It could be the future of awards shows. It could be punk rock.

You'll probably see the show, you tell me. I just sat freezing in the press tent, "no party access" boldly emblazoned across my reportorial chest, trying to pay attention to the monitor. That was hard, though. They kept trotting in celebrities and turning off the sound so we could find out what they thought of "Star Wars." Apparently, Hollywood's irreverent up-and-coming talent draws the line at saying anything not-so-nice about George Lucas. Perhaps the most damning review came from Stephen Dorff, co-winner (with Matt Dillon) of the best villain award for his performance in "Blade," who drawled "Yeah, yeah, I liked it, you know, for what it was, you know, I liked it." That took courage, right?

For a few harrowing moments just before celebrity arrivals, it seemed only media with stars on their passes were going to be allowed access to the red carpet. The five of us not sporting stars took the news badly, and responded by sulking rather aggressively. Luckily, it was a false alarm. There was plenty of room. The whole evening was kind of quiet, sleepy almost.

I secured a prime spot along the barrier where I was flanked by a large group of Taiwanese reporters and a two-man Latin American TV crew. The Taiwanese reporters had a woman on the inside. She periodically ran back to the group to announce the next arrival and disseminate false (but often titillating) information like, "Jennifer Love Wet! I Know Who Did Last Summer!"

Reporters lined up across the carpet from the fan stands, where we waited for the procession to commence. PR girls trolled the carpet like dope dealers, muttering, "I've got Sean Hatosy from 'The Faculty'? Sean Hatosy?" and "Kevin Smith? Director of small independent films?" Kevin Smith had no takers, quite possibly due to his honest but ill-advised choice of denim bermuda shorts for evening. A reporter next to me jumped at the chance to pose a breakfast-related question to Sean Hatosy, though. "I like eggs," he confided.

The fans were happy to see Rebecca Romijn Stamos, celebrity celebrity greeter, in a fringed leotard. One of the biggest perks of her job must be all the teenage boys lobbing clever getting-to-know-you lines at her, like "Rebecca, I want to shag you!" and "You forgot your pants!" That must be cool.

Some other things you may need to know: Puffy the dog looks just as surly in real life. Keri Russell's butt comes to a point, no lie. Katie Holmes (breakthrough performance winner, for "Disturbing Behavior") is reminiscent of a young bassett hound, but is taller than you'd think. James Van Der Beek's head looks like a breadbox. Jackie Chan, in long hair, straw hat and red bandanna, was going for cowboy but stopped just short at Andean busker. Hugh Grant looked concerned. The members of Dru Hill wore suits made out of cow.

Catherine Zeta-Jones, who escaped the clutches of her publicist to run back to the stands and high-five her fans, is truly the movie star of the people. Ricky Martin and Jennifer Lopez drew the biggest cheers from the crowd, prompting wild, saliva-incontinent on-camera enthusiasms by the Latin American correspondent -- who was then cruelly snubbed by both. Jackie Chan enjoyed a lengthy exchange with Taiwanese reporters. He said something about Puffy.

Then back inside the press tent to watch TV. Courtney Love and Van Der Beek presented the award for best on-screen duo (Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker for "Rush Hour"), and I noted that James' incomparable cranial form was not lost on Courtney either. "My crush on you is consuming me," she giggled, "so you should just present 'cause I'm gonna jump on your head!"

Will Smith rode onstage on a horse, where he was joined by Dru Hill and then, oddly, by Stevie Wonder. Obligatory shot of a delighted Jada Pinkett in the audience. Jada's so supportive. Televised displays of marital bliss can be measured in terms of how far forward the spouse sits in his or her seat and swivels, and she did good.

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