No thoughts on last night’s show really, other than a wonderful wellspring of joy as Tilda Swinton, one of my favorite art-house starlets, took to the stage for her little golden shiny man. I thought the Viktor & Rolf muse would’ve given a teary emotional speech, giving everyone in the audience a much needed refresher course on auteur cinema in the process. But she did something far better - taking the piss out of the whole event by completely having a sense of humor about winning and exposing the silliness of the ceremony in general.”I have an American agent who is the spitting image of this—really, truly the same shaped head and, it has to be said, the buttocks. And I’m giving this to him because there’s no way I would be in America at all,” she said, comparing the Oscar statuette to her agent, Brian Swardstrom.