Insert Foot has some suggestion for the Academy Awards.

I was going to write something serious about the Oscars because I used to be a film writer and have many important opinions about things with which you should agree and we can all feel smart.

Then I realized I let my Cinemark club card expire and didn’t see many movies last year.

Oh dear. I guess that would be a problem if I want to write about movies.

I only saw two best picture nominees. I was going to watch “Poor Things” the other night, but got scared of Emma Stone’s eyebrows and decided I wasn’t in a weird enough mood.

“Oppenheimer” was great, of course. Cillian Murphy is one of the best actors alive and, even if things slowed down the last third and got into the weeds with details we didn’t necessarily remember, it was important to chronicle the mostly true story of one of the most important people of the 20th century.

The other was “Killers of the Flower Moon,” which was a fascinating piece of historical journalism when I read it a few years ago. I still didn’t understand why it was getting such rave reviews. It was a good book; not great. I did learn a lot, but I never thought it would become a movie. It was slow and the focus was scattered.

So guess how the movie turned out?

All that talent balled up in Martin Scorsese, Robert DeNiro and Leonardo DiCaprio couldn’t save it on the screen. It was good, but not great. DeNiro was subtly amazing; make fun of old Bob for his silly Spring Break grandpa movies, but he’s still one of the greats. DiCaprio was also fantastic. I don’t remember not loving a Scorsese film (“Mean Streets” was overrated, but still good). So I thought I was obviously missing something and the film would be great.

I almost didn’t finish it. Not because it was too long. That doesn’t bother me, and certainly wasn’t worth consideration in “The Irishman.” I just had the almost exact same reaction to the film as I did the book. There wasn’t enough focus. And, OK … it was too long.

I was fascinated by the idea there was a town full of oil-rich Native Americans just ripe for exploitation. It’s sad. But … was that supposed to be the hook? If so — and it should’ve been — it needed sharpening. They were the necessary tragic figures. But that point just wasn’t jumping out enough, in either the film or the book.

Nevertheless, I will try watching the Academy Awards, even if they’ve become terribly boring. It would be nice if they could assure us of some real action, like Rob Lowe singing, someone running across the stage naked, or Warren Beatty trying to announce best picture and getting so confused, he never works again.

Here are five things I’d like to see on Sunday’s Oscars telecast:

At some point, have someone from the Broccoli family pretend to recognize some paper-pusher from the academy with a meaningless award, and instead announce Cillian Murphy as the next James Bond.

Just get it done, already. Daniel Craig raised the bar so high during his Bond tenure that Bond has to be played with intensity and by a great actor. I loved the idea of Idris Elba, but you waited too long, didn’t you? He’s 52 and would be 54 or 55 by the time a new Bond came out. Murphy is only four years younger, but can look a decade younger, easily pulling the character off for three or four movies.

I know: white man, bleh bleh … but I don’t see how a woman can do it, despite all the talk of Bond being a relic and is frequently a sexist pig and … it’s OK. We accept it. Some roles just shouldn’t be changed.

Treat it like a surprise party.

Create an award for best comedy, secretly have the Academy vote, and present nominees and the winner without telling anyone. It’s absolutely ridiculous that there’s no real recognition of film comedy at the Oscars, yet everyone is so preoccupied with whether the host will be funny. Lighten up, kids. Making a great comedy is difficult and a real art. Oscars shouldn’t be just which movies are the most tragic or have an actor best imitating someone we’ve been told is historical.

Then go back and award retroactive best comedies the past 50 years. And cancel the rest of the show. It’s boring, anyway.

Invent a Wasted Talent Award: Speaking of Bob and Leo in “Killers of the Flower Moon,” there’s always a great actor giving 100 percent in a movie that just isn’t very good. Or one in which their character just wasn’t needed.

Ideally, then they hand a complimentary Oscar to Christopher Reeves’ family for him making those last painfully bad “Superman” movies (he tried). Why was Benicio Del Toro in that “Star Wars” movie, again? At least we knew Laurence Olivier needed the money in the second “The Jazz Singer.”

Actually, maybe they should call it the “Nic Cage Needs to Buy Another T-Rex Award.”

My fourth idea: On-the-Spot Acting Award. Pick five to 10 actors’ names out of a hat and assign them a scene with five minutes of prep. Let them go at it on stage, right there. Poll the audience and hand out that Oscar. Bingo.

And, finally, award a Beloved Actor Who Never Won and May Soon Die Award. Harrison Ford, come on down! I think they already have this with honorary awards. But change the name and don’t tell them beforehand. Or invoke a retroactive clause once a year, giving that actor an award for a film they didn’t get.

Otherwise, enjoy the Oscars. If you can stay awake.

Follow music critic Tony Hicks at Twitter.com/TonyBaloney1967.