What the Oscars lack in viewership will be made up for in spectacle—everything from Judd Apatow's sprawling A Salute to Penis to a Busby Berkeley-esque number placing Hugh Jackman inside a circle of scissor-kicking aboriginal-wind-spirits.

Despite those few appetite-whetting morsels, however, producers Laurence Mark and Bill Condon are keeping the rest of their Oscar night cards close to the vest. The Wrap cornered Academy president Gil Cates, who gave away little, save to suggest some dramatic changes were coming in the very method in which the prizes are handed out:

Well, you once tried putting the nominees on stage?
 We tried, it didn't work, we moved on.

How many ways are there to hand someone a statue?
 Ah-ha. There are a couple of ways you haven't seen in the past.

Ah-ha. We turn now to the punditry of foremost Oscarologist Mark Lisanti, who, in outlining five potential Oscar-night surprises for Little Gold Men, describes one potential game-changing technological advancement in the realm of trophy-distribution: The Oscar Cannon.

Condon and Mark will instruct victorious editors/sound designers/short-form documentarians to remain at their seats following their wins, then deliver their statuettes to their places in the Kodak Theater balcony with a high-powered, pneumatic cannon wielded by specially trained spokesmodel-marksmen. Not only will this change save precious airtime, it will inject a sports-arena-like atmosphere into the proceedings, transforming normally reserved attendees into rabidly engaged fans eager to snatch a lofted Oscar from the outstretched hands of a costumer with poor reaction time.

Would it reduce Hollywood's most prestigious honor to the level of some 7th inning T-shirt giveaway at a Dodgers Fan Appreciation Day? Perhaps. But it would also certainly bring in a whole new segment of the viewing population—depressed American Gladiators fans, longing for some televised sniper bloodshed after being unceremoniously robbed of Hellga's foam-torpedo precision. Bring on the cannons, we say.