The ceremony opened with a nostalgic tribute to 'moving pictures', with references to Marilyn Monroe and old classics like Singin' In The Rain.

I suppose the idea was to summon up magic but it just made the Hollywood establishment look a bit desperate. We all know that cinema audiences are falling, and that TV is in a golden age. People are more excited about Breaking Bad or Mad Men than the new 'blockbuster' about explosions, robots or the latest plundered comic strip.

And when you actually do want to see a film, why bother with the cinema? Hold out just a few weeks and the studio's greed will ensure the thing is rushed out on DVD, allowing you to watch it from the comfort of your bed or sofa instead of in a cinema where you'll be chewing on extortionate warmed popcorn, surrounded by texting, chattering numpties.

So by frantically reminding us of 'moving pictures' they only reminds us of what they've lost.

After the opening song and dance I was glad that we dived straight into the Best Supporting Actor category, which went to JK Simmons. Lupita Nyong'o presented it and may have felt the pressure of delivering the night's first award as she fluffed her lines, announcing, 'and the actor goes to….' But Simmons neutralised any awkwardness with a cute acceptance speech where he urged everyone, the billions watching, to phone their mums and dads.

Neil Patrick Harris was hosting this year's ceremony and started off well. He was never oppressive and over-bearing and seemed to know his place - don't hog the limelight when the real stars are onstage, buddy! - but, as the night wore on, he seemed to lose confidence and his relaxed style collapsed into floundering aimlessness. Wandering in the aisles to do a bit of audience participation was horribly awkward, especially when he tapped people on the shoulder to ask if they were 'seat fillers'. And after one ad-break he re-appeared onstage in his pants and socks and this seemed very apt: he was stripped, weak and vulnerable.

But his worst moment was also his best moment: he made a clever quip about Dana Perry's wrap which was made of lots of fluffy balls strung together. 'It takes a lot of balls to wear a dress like that,' he said. That was funny, and was unrehearsed, unlike the rest of his lines which must have been carefully scripted for him. Yet this funny remark came immediately after Perry had paid tribute to her dead son whom she lost to suicide. Isn't the true mark of a comedian their comic timing?

Apart from a few stumbles over the auto-cue there was nothing of note in the ceremony until Pawel Pawlikowski won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film with Ida. He gave a very passionate, hurried speech, and went on and on in his beautifully accented voice, thanking a huge torrent of people, including 'my late wife and my parents who are not among the living….' The orchestra began to play, in order to signal to him to wrap up the speech and get off the stage, but he just ignored it and carried on, vigorously determined to enjoy his moment. He wouldn't be hurried by the men with clipboards and earpieces.

The same thing happened when the winners of Best Short Film, The Phone Call, accepted their Oscar. Mat Kirkby and James Lucas gave an informal but heartfelt speech and were again harried and hustled to get offstage by the striking up of the orchestra. Bravely, they ignored the 'get off the stage!' signals and went on to thank their mums.

How horribly timed and regimented it all was. It was quite brutal in how emotion has to be cut for the sake of smooth timing, and that, although necessary, undermines the idea that the ceremony celebrates art and beauty and magic. No, it's all about making time and space for ads.

Th Best Supporting Actress. Patricia Arquette, gave a well-timed speech. It was a hurried list of names as well as thanking 'every woman who gave birth' and then included a statement about women's rights. It was worthy but dull, and the opposite of the rushed, turbulent speeches from the 'smaller' folk.

Then came a succession of valuable and crucial things, like Best Animated Short, Production Design and Cinematography. These involve amazing technical and artistic wizardry but that's not why we're sitting up at 3am to watch the Oscars ceremony. We want stars and frothy dresses and tears. Where were they?

Just as things were getting dull, and with the clock showing 4.15am without anything spectacular having happened, everything changed. Lady Gaga swept onstage in a fluffy white ballgown, but not to perform any of her thumping disco tunes. Instead she sang a glorious medley from The Sound of Music, after which she was joined onstage by Julie Andrews.

And things kept on improving. Eddie Redmayne won the Best Actor Oscar, as I was desperately hoping he would, and gave a lovely, warm, acceptance speech which was punctuated with excitable chuckles. 'I'm fully aware that I'm a lucky, lucky man,' he said and he dedicated the award to everyone suffering ALS and to the Hawking family.

Julianne Moore accepted her Best Actress Oscar by saying she'd read that victory prolongs an actor's life by five years, for which she's grateful as her husband is younger than her. Like Redmayne, she spoke of the illness she portrayed in her film, Alzheimers, and used her speech to raise awareness of it.

'I am the worst English-speaking guy here!' protested Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu when he had to deliver his third speech of the night, having won the Best Picture award at the end for Birdman, as well as Best Director and Best Original Screenplay.

Thinking back to the opening of the show, where they tried to whisk us off into the magic of 'moving pictures' it was hard to get engrossed or carried away as the ceremony was constantly being interrupted by ad-breaks. It was absolutely riddled with them. It's the same with the Superbowl. I suppose anything big on American TV must have holes punched in it by adverts. But don't try and kid us, with your adverts and your strict timing and your silencing of passionate speeches, that you're all about wonder and magic.