“Now our eagerly anticipated award - best actress in a leading role. The nominees are:
Miss Dahlia Doris (Dee Dee) Monastro in “Maize,” an Iowa woman entangled in a suspenseful espionage mission.
Constance Cummings in “Hearts Voyage,” a sweeping historical saga set in the California gold rush.
Sylvia Barclay in “Desert Passage,” family drama of life in the bleak Sahara. And...
MaryAnn Salisbury in “The Marquesa of Lucca,” an aristocrat defeating blight in Italian olive orchards ,
And the winner is...
Sylvia Barclay !
Barclay (In Voce Udibile) : out loud
“I am thrilled to be honored by the Academy and my peers, in recognizing this work . This is a formidable group of talented actresses I am among today. I hope I give my very best to my fans aspiring to quality entertainment . You have shown me accolades ,and tonight I come to my epitome of acknowledgement. I am ever indebted. I must mention my very talented director, Daniel Bertoli , my Producer Stan Latrobe, for his vision to see the project through , my indispensable assistant Karen Behning for attending to my every need, and special shout out to costume designer Karen Harding who was inspired in dressing me for this film. This was a team ; one I am very proud to be part of. I could not have accomplished it without you. Consider me blessed for the opportunity in making a film that has captured the hearts of so many. My humble Thanks.
Barclay (Espresso Internamente): internally
“Honored; Yeah: especially grabbing ‘Oscar’ away from that conceited bitch Connie, who has so much pancake on , all she needs is some syrup to be a complete meal.
Or that dolt ‘MISS Dee Dee’ who can’t hold on to a man thru a weekend affair. That ‘flower’ has been ‘pollinated’ so many times during her filming they call her “Revolving Doris.” Look at Monastro out there right now- she’s ogling Johnny Weissmuller . I bet she’d just LOVE to wipe her hands on Tarzan’s loincloth; the slut.
Praise be, they finally overlooked Salisbury, telling the tabloids how she was slaving away -Yeah?- in yet another ‘horror show’ filming on a air-conditioned sound stage, when I am sweating my ass off on location in the African desert; where I can’t beg, borrow, or steal enough ice for one lousy gin-n-tonic. Jesus, kill me if I EVER agree to a location film again. Oh, those biting flies. That stupid schmuck kid sent to get stinking ointment from town- didn’t work worth shit- so the ninny stood off camera fanning flies away with a feather duster - limp wristed little fairy !
I care less about all these lackeys. ‘Producer Schlamoosher’- I’m the talent engine bringing in the box office bucks, not those old Jewish monied prep school rejects.
Those friggin costumes?; HAH, that frump Karen would have wrapped me up to the neck in safari drag . Doesn’t she know my tits are my ticket to big audiences? Screw her, I scissored all my wardrobe to show more cleavage. I’m must be nuts for still schlepping in this rat race. This little statue better bring lots more money and damned better picture deals- closer to home and dear little Carlos, my Puerto Rican pool boy. Now where can I get a drink in this dump?”
