Rosamund Pike stuck resolutely to the script. Photograph: Yui Mok/PA
Sunday's Baftas were a strangely flat affair. Every film that should have been recognised was recognised, in some way. Every speech was genuine and non-controversial. It was all a bit, well, bland. A bit dull.
The organisation of the ceremony at the Royal Opera House could have been military and from a journalistic point of view, there were few complaints.
I was one of about 10 reporters locked in a ballet rehearsal room from 3pm. We were the ones writing for the next day's national newspapers so were given the results at 4.30pm on the strict instruction that we did not tell anyone. We could write our story but not send it, or even talk to our newsdesks, until 6.45pm, which is just about in time for first edition deadlines.
After filing we were fed and watered and watched the ceremony between 7pm and 9pm (it was broadcast on BBC1 at 9pm).
Despite a collective mind effort to will someone to say something interesting, they didn't. Most of the givers stuck resolutely to the script - "It's been a great year for make up and hair," announced Rosamund Pike. Ricky Gervais made a Chris Langham gag, but nothing too bad. Jonathan Ross was funny at times and blamed some of his more terrible jokes on the US writers' strike.
The recipients for the most part were, understandably, chuffed and weren't going to say anything beyond thanking their colleagues, family and friends. Even Tilda Swinton, who looked the most shocked when her name was read out, dedicated her award to her agent.
The Baftas are not, thank goodness, the exhausting marathon that are the Oscars. But nor are they quite as much fun.
