I pride myself on a few things: my incredibly good looks; my charming, winning personality; and the fact that I’ve never heard the song “Let It Go.”
Obviously I’ve heard that inescapable chorus, which is three words-long: “Let it go!” And I’m a big fan of animation, so I can respect Frozen’s general existence. And as someone who loves animation, I know it absolutely should not have won the Oscar that year for Best Animated Feature in 2014. Fellow nominee The Wind Rises, Hayao Miyazaki’s prospective final film, is one of the greatest films of the 21st century, animated or otherwise.
I felt, and feel, strongly about this: “Let It Go” and Frozen are uninspiring, highly commercial works of media. I don’t feel the need to have seen the movie to be sure of this; the relentless, inescapable, not-very-cute merch that persists nearly a decade later says it all. Also, I have very little patience for showtunes.
Anyways! In 2014, I was a very depressed 20-year-old living in a very depressing city for a very depressing study abroad program, where it was impossible to watch the Academy Awards live. But I always watch the Academy Awards live, I said! This tradition will hold! So I watched a horribly choppy stream of the telecast at 1 a.m. my time, hunched over my wheezing grandpa of a laptop.
It felt like a blessed opportunity, despite the lackluster conditions: Technology was such that I could still message my friends about the worst speeches and best dresses. Best of all, we could dish about our thoughts on the Best Original Song nominees—the only real performances at an awards show ostensibly honoring performances. I was very excited to see Karen O and Ezra Koenig perform “The Moon Song” from my much-loved Her; I was even happy to watch Pharrell Williams perform the Despicable Me 2 hit “Happy,” a poisonously catchy song that I am physically barred from disliking.
But I was dreading “Let It Go,” a song that I’d made a whole thing about never hearing. I’d gotten really good at avoiding it, leaving the room when any of the theater kids in my dorm tried to play it in the common room, putting on headphones when some random girls started playing it in the dining hall. (Such is the curse of going to a historically women’s college.) I would brag to my Disney-loving friends about how I’d gotten really good at letting “Let It Go” go right past me.
Yet the Oscars was going to finally force me to confront my fear, which was hearing this song and having it trapped inside of my head for the rest of my life. Since my viewing set-up was so precarious, I didn’t want to risk closing the tab or even muting my computer. This 16-inch monster of a PC was so unpredictable that it would regularly crash on a dime.
As soon as John Travolta came out to introduce “Let It Go,” performed by Frozen star Idina Menzel, that’s exactly what happened: My computer crashed.
We all remember what John Travolta said in his infamous introduction of the song’s performer. Unable to properly read the teleprompter. Travolta announced not Menzel, but her non-existent counterpart, “Adele Dazeem.” All of us at home laughed in uproarious shock. All of them in the audience probably stifled their laughter or sat confused. Menzel had no time to process the mispronunciation, because she was belting out the song that would go on to win the Oscar. In 2015, she was given a chance at payback, calling John Travolta “Glom Gazingo” in her own introduction for the actor.
It was a hilarious, instant meme-making moment. What kind of name is Adele Dazeem! How is “Dazeem” easier to pronounce than “Menzel!” And did the teleprompter really look like it read that fake name, or did Travolta just make it up?
My computer truly could not process what was going on, because it immediately cut to black as soon as the camera panned over to Dazeem, née Menzel. Trying not to unsettle my roommates—it was now 3 a.m.—I sent frenzied texts to friends about the hilarious moment. And by the time I got my computer working again, you know what I missed? The entire performance of “Let It Go” and nothing else.
Someone was looking out for me and my highly penetrable brain that evening, and I believe his name was John Travolta. He is the patron saint of my internal music library, because I still have not heard “Let It Go” in full to this day. But I have certainly heard the ringing of “Adele Dazeem” in my head on a regular basis ever since.
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