Photo Pest: Hello Gorgeous!

I've watched the Oscars religiously since 1965 and remember Barbra's indelible phrase well. That's why the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures topped my sightseeing list in LA.

It's a shame that I was misinformed about the "Oscars Experience," which shoots video of visitors holding an actual statuette, as if they've just won. I thought I'd finally have the chance to deliver the acceptance speech I've been rehearsing since childhood.

As excited as I am to be honored by the Academy this evening, it can't compare to the first time I watched the Oscars and had to get up at least five times to pee during the broadcast . . .

Sadly, the experience, which takes place in a simulated Dolby theater with an applauding audience, doesn't include audio. I was bummed, although luckily I found out before paying the extra fee. It didn't help that John Waters: Pope of Trash, the latest special exhibit, wouldn't open until September. Bad timing.

We started our visit with "The Path To Cinema," which documents the visual entertainment technology that preceded the silver screen, including the magic lantern.

Think of a less sophisticated version of a travel slideshow on your computer.

France's Lumiere brothers upped the ante with silent, flickering images shot around the world. Once marveled for their innovation, they now capture a charming but familiar antiquity.

Another gallery explored animation from Walt Disney's Peter Pan in 1953 to Tim Burton's Corpse Bride fifty years later.

Meet dozens of characters from Flee, the first movie to be nominated for Best International, Best Documentary and Best Animated Features. It's the true story of a gay man forced to flee persecution in his native Afghanistan for safe harbor in Denmark. He meets a LOT of people along the way, each realistically rendered.

My father used to take me to dinosaur movies at the Pershing Theater in El Paso when I was a kid. Willis O'Brien pioneered the stop motion technology that made the early ones possible if more than a little jerky. But that was part of the fun!

Another large, darkened gallery focuses on "encounters" in many of the last century's most iconic films, including H.R. Giger's incredibly scary monster in Alien ("in space no one can hear you scream"). Even more thrilling for me was getting to meet Sigourney Weaver in person not long before the movie made her a star. Her boyfriend and eventual husband worked with David at the Public Theater. The four of us rode the subway home together one night after a show. She and a former Paramount Pictures producer who picked me up one night when I worked at Bloomingdales, make me only one degree of separation from Oscar.

Before he became governor of California, Arnold Schwarzenegger was once the Terminator, a fact that now seems quaint.

We crossed the Barbra Streisand Bridge to the roof of the David Geffen Theater, seen from outside in this photo.

Look closely at the mountains on the right and you can catch a faint glimpse of the Hollywood sign.

When I was a kid, I used the World Almanac (remember those?) to memorize the winners of the Best Picture and acting awards for the past 50 years. Today, I can barely remember who won most recently but my favorite part of the museum was the room devoted to the history of the Academy. Gregory Peck (To Kill A Mockingbird, 1962) and Billy Wilder (Sunset Boulevard, 1953) are among those winners whose Oscars ended up in this curving shrine. The plaque given to Hattie McDaniel's (best supporting actors weren't given actual statuettes until 1943) disappeared without a trace from Howard University.

This photo says everything you need to know about Joan Crawford.

Alfred Hitchcock was at his heaviest when legendary producer David O. Selznick hired the British master of suspense to direct Rebecca, his first American picture. Although Selznick won an Oscar for it, the two never worked together again. Hitchcock didn't take "notes."

This Olympia typed out the screenplay for Psycho, the first movie to kill its star early.

Hitchcock never shot a frame of film that he hadn't already visualized using story boards like these for one of the most ominous scenes in The Birds, maybe even motion picture history. Poor Tippi already has suffered an attack by the time it takes place.

Did you know that Doris Day supposedly turned down the role of Mrs. Robinson in The Graduate? If so, it must have been before Lyn Stalmaster sent this memo to director Mike Nichols. The role went to Anne Bancroft, who was just six years older than Dustin Hoffman. No matter. Their chemistry--hard to discern from a list of typed names--knocked the seduction scene out of the park. I can't think of any I've enjoyed more.

Casting agents apparently hang on to the Polaroids submitted by auditioning actors. What you see is what we got with Christopher Meloni, whom I once stalked in Virgin Records on Union Square.

That's something we can't say with either Angelina Jolie or Jennifer Lopez. Two decades of stardom has done wonders for their looks.

Several galleries are devoted to the production of The Godfather. I guess Marlon didn't want anyone borrowing his prosthetic.

Theodora van Runkle designed the costumes.

This baroque poster promoted the film in Castro's Cuba. Go figure!

Another area focused on costumes, hair and make-up throughout the history of the Academy. David Bowie wore this outfit in Labyrinth, a movie I've never seen. Is he wearing a codpiece?

I can't imagine Barbra is happy with this costume sketch for Hello Dolly!

How many people even know who Kim Novak or Clark Gable were any more?

Although they probably do instantly recognize this guy.

I left the museum feeling more than a little wistful in this age of streaming and superheroes, at the dawn of artificial intelligence. The Oscars, with their ever diminishing ratings, seem so 20th century. Like me! The museum, which opened only two years ago, seems a little . . . late. The golden age of Hollywood is long gone.