The night’s main stories:

• Spotlight shocks as DiCaprio wins actor and Mad Max scorches competition
• ‘Hollywood is sorority racist’ - the best Oscars 2016 quotes
• The best images from the Oscars 2016 – in pictures
• Chris Rock’s opening monologue
• Rock overcomes nerves to tackle diversity row – and makes it funny

That’s it from us on the Oscars 2016 liveblog. Check theguardian.com/film for all of our Oscars coverage, including Peter Bradshaw’s reaction to the awards, Lanre Bakare’s verdict on Chris Rock as host and a special extremely sleepy version of the Dailies podcast. Cheers for sticking with us. Go to bed now. We certainly are. Bye!

Meanwhile, in the non-bingo world, Nigel M Smith is still plugging away on backstage duties. He’s spoken to Sam Smith, who’s realised his suggestion that he was the first openly gay man to win an Oscar wasn’t quite correct:

The first openly gay winner was Stephen Sondheim in 1991.

That’s it! BINGO! BINGO! Because we swear – in that inaudible garble at the end of the transmission – we heard Rock make a “Poo joke that got pegged to the Martian”. That means Simon from Hatton-on-Grange is this year’s Oscar BINGO! winner!

Congratulations Simon. Your prize will be in the post. Please make sure the box’s airholes remain open. Watch your hands when you open it! Thanks for playing all. It’s been a delight.

And with that, the 2016 Oscars grind to a close. There will be considered reaction to the ceremony in due course, but not now and not by me, because I’m so tired that I can barely think and I’m pretty sure I just heard my baby waking up upstairs and oh god why won’t anyone let me sleep. Still, at least it’s over and I am smiley. Carol Smillie.

A quick word of thanks to The Guardian’s film desk, for helping to keep this ridiculous ship afloat tonight. And thanks, of course, to you for reading. You didn’t have to – and you probably shouldn’t have done – so I appreciate it greatly. Same time next year? Anyone?

There will be GIFs, any minute now, of the weird scrunched-face fistpump that Michael Keaton did on the way to the stage. But they can wait. Spotlight won!

And that just leaves us with best picture. Tonight dragged a bit in the middle, but this feels stirring enough to count as a big finish.

That’s bingo Simon! That must be bingo! Leo’s given a shout out to the environment in his acceptance speech. You MUST have bingo by now Simon? Please?! PLEASE?!

Leonardo DiCaprio has clearly memorised the CRAP out of this speech, but god bless him. He’s thanking every single person he’s ever met. He’s literally attempting to solve climate change all by himself. He’s not being played off in the slightest. But, christ, if anyone deserves a bit of waffle tonight it’s him. Seriously, I think I just felt the entire internet exhale.

Easily the biggest cheer of the night for Leo. Which, again, is what you get when you don’t run for president.

...One. Oh thank god.

(I secretly want Matt Damon to win this)

To contrast Brie Larson’s delight and good cheer, here’s “Twitter”; big, bad and furious because that limp ballad from Sam Smith beat that slightly less limp ballad from Lady Gaga to the best song prize. All this fury over an award whose past winners include ... Phil Collins, The Muppets and Randy Newman - many, many times.

OK! Best Actor time. And the internet will melt in three... two...

Brie Larson wins and the camera basically stays trained on Jacob Tremblay’s face. Currently, I think about 75% of the internet wanted her to bring Jacob up on stage with her.

But still, hooray for Brie Larson, who hugely deserves the award. And especially hooray for her ability to keep things brief.

At times like this – when the night’s worn threadbare – you turn to the oracles for guidance and spiritual sustenance ...

Don’t forget us Liz ... tapping, tapping, tapping, tapping. Send in sodas.

Iñárritu ploughs directly through the play-off music, and it’s Ride of the Valkyries so he just sounds really cool. Honest to god, let’s just have the sound of six toddlers vomiting into a metal bin as the play-off music next year.

What a nice result. I mean, Birdman was on TV earlier, and that film has aged horribly. And, really, all Iñárritu did this time was make the world’s longest Mr Bean episode. But The Revenant is a good film and I’ll fight anyone who disagrees once I’ve had a sleep.

Best director! OK, here we go. This time accompanied by weird junket clips, which isn’t quite as impressive as I was expecting.

Four more awards, I think. Just four. My entire body body hurts. My brain aches. I just wrote the word ‘body’ twice in a row, but I don’t have the energy to correct it. We can do this. One last push.

Sacha Baron Cohen - sorry, Ali G - arrives to do a routine about race in Hollywood. Got a laugh from us for describing Room as “a movie about a roomful of white people”.

You - Simon! The only person still doing our farce of an Oscars bingo: you can tick the “Sacha Baron Cohen comes on in character” box now. Have you filled your chart? Can we bing-stop this?

Ah, that was a Britain-specific reference and I’ve been told multiple times not to do those. It was Ali G. Remember Ali G? Anyone?

But don’t worry if things were getting a bit heavy because here, to lighten the mood in the room, is Richard Madeley.

This is genuinely the first time I’ve ever heard “Writing’s on the Wall” and “Best Song” in the same sentence.

How on earth is this Morricone’s first Oscar? That’s a tremendous oversight. His standing ovation is well deserved. That said, the audience is standing up for anything at the moment. I think it’s because this ceremony is 400 hours long and they’re just trying to get some blood back in their feet.

Remember the Oscars where Mad Max won a lot of stuff? I miss those Oscars.

Great news everyone! I have now been liveblogging for six straight hours! Great news! GREAT news!

This is a good song and all, but I’m distracted by Lady Gaga’s outfit. It’s too white. She’s a single accidental lurch near a mustard concession away from outright disaster.

Biden was there to introduce Lady Gaga. Remember last year when Lady Gaga did a medley of showtunes? She’s just doing one song this year so, you know, things could be worse.

Here’s Joe Biden, getting a standing ovation. People love him. This is exactly what happens when you’re smart enough never to run for president. Take note, fledgling egotists.

Mark Rylance is talking to the press backstage after his non-Arnie endorsed supporting actor win. Deep in the throng is Nigel M Smith who tweets thusly:

The winner would like to thank someone called Gideon Grief, and suddenly I’ve got a new swearword substitute for when I stub my toe near my son.

Here comes Jacob Tremblay, getting the biggest of the evening for being everyone’s favourite actor at the moment. But then it all goes wrong. Chris Rock comes on with a box, but puts it too far away from the mic, so all of Jacob’s lines are muffled by the sound of Chris Rock singing “I’m a good person” to himself.

That did happen, didn’t it? I mean, I know it’s late, but it did happen, right?

He’s so SMALL! And he’s in a TUX! And he doesn’t know how to use a MIC! But it’s OK! Because he’s CUTE! Jacob Tremblay = cute. Tick your boxes bingo babes

You know, I feel sorry for the 86 Academy Award ceremonies that I didn’t get to liveblog.

There is still time, Marie Claire. There is still time.

On the one hand, this is happening at such a late stage in the evening that I’m getting a bit choked up by this. On the other hand, I miss being in the Guardian office right now, because I guarantee that it’s full of people consulting lists to see who the academy forgot to include. That’s always my favourite part of Oscar night.

My teeth hurt too Stu

Well, Dave Grohl is doing the death montage. But he’s not doing My Hero, so that’s something.

Amid all the hoo-hah over the make-up of the Academy’s voting body it’s easy to forget that the actual results, after all the counting and cross-checking, are decided by one man: former kindergarden cop, Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Arnie says Sylvester Stallone was the best supporting actor. So, I’m sorry Mark. Your win is null and void. Please return your Oscar. Sly awaits.

The good thing about this diversity row, of course, is that the big dull speech by the Academy president gets to be about something other than piracy this year. I guess the point I’m trying to make here is hooray for racism. No, wait, that’s not right.

Oh god, have we still got Quincy Jones’ five-minute diversity speech to come? It’s so late. It’s so late.

Time for the Girl Scout cookie callback. Together they made a grand total of $65,243. This either speaks to the generosity of the A-list or the fact that most actors are really hungry all the time because they’re terrified of not adhering to pervasive cultural beauty standards.

My teeth hurt. Does anyone else’s teeth hurt? My teeth hurt.

Keep an eye on Mitch Winehouse’s Twitter account, which is likely to get lively tomorrow morning. He’s called Amy “a sham of a film” and won’t be happy with Kapadia’s win.

I like Dev Patel’s beard too. Dev Patel’s beard and Kate Winslet’s glasses and... no, wait, those two items just add up to an insufferable hipster barista. Disregard.

We’re reaching the point of the evening where the liveblog becomes so unwieldy that it takes two minutes to publish each post, but I just wanted to say that Louis CK was funny just now. Remember when he was onstage? It was good, wasn’t it?

Guys, I can’t tell if I’m winning or losing them any more:

Did they just announce “A special performance by Dave Grohl”? Is he doing the death montage? Is he doing My Hero? HOT TAKE THINKPIECE PITCH: Is Dave Grohl The New Bette Midler?

Bigger surely than the surprise-lite that is Mark Rylance’s win is the realisation that now the four of you still loyally bingo-ing the night away will not be able to tick that box marked ‘Stallone poses for picture with fists raised’. No triumph for Sly. Just slack, mute dejection. His hands remain open. Perhaps placed over the eyes as he bends and weeps, weeps, weeps. For Flop has him beat.

Counterpoint: Mark Rylance seems like the world’s loveliest man, and the work is its own reward, so who really gives a stuff anyway.

Oh, poor Sylvester Stallone. But never mind, because he can always stage a similar comeback next year by taking a small role in the upcoming Black Stop Or My Mom Will Shoot.

Patricia Arquette makes a bold dash to rob Winslet of her spectacle award, but falls short. It was a brave move, but Kate Winslet wears impeccable spectacles.

Chris Rock’s chewed this bit before:

This is a bit that Chris Rock did first time around in 2005. Go to an actual cinema and learn that non-industry audiences don’t really care about Oscar nominated movies. Tried and tested, but always a winner.

Well done on your best animated short Oscar win the team behind Bear Story. It’s Chile’s first win, it’s your crowning professional achievement. It’s also - according to one sour old soul on Wikipedia - “garbage”.

Sheesh, the internet. Sheesh

A quick note to Henry Barnes: you’re right, you aren’t paying me enough.

Kate Winslet wins best supporting spectacles.

Guys, I think I’m winning them back:

Remember last year, when the Oscars included a rousing song from Selma that had the audience in floods of angry, regretful tears? Yeah, this year we’ve got a man with a crow on his head singing about how nice it is to bonk ladies instead.

Bingo crazy as this liveblog’s own Stuart Heritage takes a minute to knock out another category. He enjoyed Ex Machina, the crazy kook. So that takes “A movie you’ve enjoyed wins an Oscar” out of the running. Watching, writing AND playing along at the Bingo Stu? We’re not paying you enough.

I didn’t know this song was from 50 Shades of Grey. I thought it was from my spin class. I’m suddenly a little bit more dubious of my spin instructor now.

Kevin Hart, announcing a song from 50 Shades of Grey, just did a strange remake of Chris Rock’s monologue that didn’t have any jokes in it.

Pete Docter just gave the best speech of the night, I think. It was literally just about kids being sad, but it’s 3.15am here and I think I’m on the edge of some sort of breakdown, so it’s not taking a lot to set me off.

Anyway, this is the bit where Inside Out wins.

Wouldn’t it be great if the Minions all died? I mean, literally right there in the middle of that clip? If one of them coughed into a handkerchief, and then saw it had blood in it, and then they all looked worried and collapsed? And then a paramedic came along and did what they could, but then walked off shaking their head? Wouldn’t that be great?

A BINGO CORRECTION

Jacob Tremblay was officially cute when he stood up to see R2-D2 and C3PO more clearly earlier. Apologies for the slip. I’ll forward this to Readers’ editor.

Chris Rock, in a slightly cynical Ellen-buys-a-pizza rip-off, is selling Girl Scout cookies to the audience. It sort of works, but not as much as when he’s just standing there berating Hollywood for its many faults.

Still, the Minions are on now, so compared to that it’s a masterpiece.

Guys, I think I’m losing the crowd.

For those of you who’ve Bingo-ing nuts for all this hot Bingo action, here’s some of the boxes we’re still looking to tick:

• John Travolta talking!
• Jennifer Lawrence falling over!
• Tremblay CUTENESS!
• The ceremony ending sooner than you thought it would!

One of these things will absolutely not happen.

They’d NEVER let Travolta back on after what he did to that poor Idina Montessori’s name, would they?

While it’s nice that the Star Wars droids have been allowed to do a tight five of observational comedy, I did just spend that whole bit worrying that BB-8 was going to do his flamethrower thumbs-up. His stupid, annoying, film-ruining flamethrower thumbs up.

Ex Machina! I can’t remember the last time that films I actually enjoyed won a meaningful number of Oscars. This is weird.

Andy Serkis is announcing the visual effects award in a slightly too enthusiastic manner. Slightly too enthusiastic but not really interesting enough to warrant its own post. Sorry.

BINGO! Speech about Donald Trump

Andy Serkis – who wears dots on his face a lot – has a pop at Trump in his intro for the visual effects award. Not a speech as such, but we can flesh it out in post-.

IDEA: let’s just bring on all the other Oscars in a wheelbarrow, give them all to George Miller, let Chris Rock tell 20 minutes of jokes and then all go to bed. Deal?

I know this is a less-than-thrilling point to make, but whoever was in charge of putting together the nominee packages this year deserves some sort of medal. They’re snappy and inventive, and they perfectly get to the heart of the category. This has been a decent ceremony so far, and it’s down to this attention to detail.

An f-word. Does that mean someone has to pay a fine now?

Who - according to plenty of famous, successful people - doesn’t deserve a round of applause for winning the highest accolade her craft could bestow on her? Jenny Beavan apparently. Sheesh Hollywood. Sheesh

That was weird. A loud noise and 15 different confused reaction shots from actors. More of the Oscars should be like that. I guess what I’m saying is let’s have it in a haunted mansion next year.

In terms of awards, we are one third of the way through the ceremony. Current estimated end time: two hours from now.

BINGO! Margeret Sixel has just won an editing Oscar, so she’s knows when to cut. And now, you cruel orchestra, is not the time. She is thanking her cast, she is thanking her crew, she is thanking You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin). A crescendo won’t kill her. And for that, you all can be thankful (and mark a tick in your “Winner ignores orchestra playing them off” box).

“The Minions are on their way”. Stuart Heritage, you are the bloody KISS of DEATH.

It feels really weird to have such a commercially successful film do well at the Oscars, doesn’t it? Between that and Chris Rock’s sharpness, the Oscars almost feel relevant this year.

Oh, back to the theme. So, we’ve written a film, picked out the costumes, done the hair and filmed it. Now it’s time to edit our footage. We haven’t picked a lead actor yet or anything, but whevs.

Lubezki would like to thank “Friends” and “Teachers”. I don’t think his heart was really in this. Maybe he had a dentist appointment when he was supposed to fill in the form.

This is a nice, inventive way of announcing the cinematography nominees – just a huge screen in the hall showing the most beautiful shots from each film. More like this, please.

More Chris Rock now. I wish this whole thing was Chris Rock. And also that I was asleep. And that these Jaffa Cakes were better. But, hey, you can’t have it all.

If anyone wanted to see the physical manifestation of hatred for all autocues, you’d be wise to play back Benicio del Toro’s bit just now. He looked as if he was going to crawl to the back of the auditorium and strangle his autocue with its own cord.

Here’s The Big Short director Adam McKay’s thoughts on Chris Rock’s monologue, courtesy of Hollywood heart-throb Nigel M Smith

Jabbing with the left, jabbing with the right. But jabbing with both equally it seems.

This is essentially the Mad Max portion of the evening. Another win. This time the winners would like to thank Candy. Again, I don’t know whether that’s a person called Candy, the concept of candy or the defunct 1980s white goods manufacturer.

Colin Gibson and Lisa Thompson would apparently like to thank Justice. I don’t know if that’s a person called Justice, the band Justice or the general concept of Justice. These crawls sorely need to be annotated.

BINGO! Leonardo DiCaprio talks about the environment

OK, it’s not Leo. It’s Jenny Beavan, winner of the costume Oscar. But if Stephen Fry’s allowed to call her a “bag lady”, we’re allowed to call her “Leonardo DiCaprio”, OK? OK.

Beavan gets played off during a rousing speech about environmental decay. And guess what? Ride of the Valkyries made her sound cool as hell. Seriously, crying babies and fart noises. That should be the play-off music next year.

Jenny Beavan wins for Mad Max, which means that Chris Rock is approximately 45 minutes away from quitting Twitter in a strop after making an ill-advised dig about her clothes.

Cate Blanchett presents best costume design from the depths of a John Lewis haberdashery department. Some great thinking must have gone into that. Hey, here’s one of the world’s most charismatic actors. I know, let’s make her elbow her way past a ton of mannequins.

Or maybe the Academy just arbitrarily listed a bunch of names on Vikander’s behalf. Maybe they implanted a microchip in her brain while she slept. This whole thing is sinister. Sinister, I tell you.

Is it a way to speed up the acceptance speeches? Could all acceptance speeches now feasibly just involve the winner silently pointing down at the bottom of the screen for ten seconds and then just walking off?

How do they know they’re the people she wants to thank? Did the Oscars make all the nominees submit an acceptance speech ahead of time? Because that seems quite cruel.

HANG ON A MINUTE. I’ve just noticed the crawl at the bottom of the screen. The second Vikander won, it sprang into action listing all the people who she’d like to thank. That’s a bit sinister, isn’t it?

Oh, hang on, it’s actually best supporting actress. Because that’s always the second stage of filmmaking, isn’t it? First you write a film, then you work out who’ll play the second-biggest female part.

So we’ve had the screenplay awards. If the theme of the evening is the film-making process, the next award will be best harrowing structural compromise made in order to secure funding.

Chris Rock just slagged off Sam Smith to his face. This might be the tiredness talking, but I’m having a wonderful time.

Here’s Sam Smith anyway, singing the latest Bond song, entitled Skyfall As Performed By A Toddler With A Mouth Full Of Boiled Sweets.

And then Sarah Silverman came on to announce the James Bond theme, and just slagged off James Bond. If every Oscar ceremony was like this, I wouldn’t spend five months of each year fruitlessly trying to get out of liveblogging it.

I sort of resent having to liveblog the Oscars now. I’d sort of prefer to turn my laptop off and watch two hours of Chris Rock standup.

A quick burst of Night Fever briefly got me excited for the inevitable John Travolta cameo. But no, instead we get a nice sketch about black people digitally inserted into nominated films. One of them has Tracy Morgan in The Danish Girl, and it’s genuinely a thousand times better than The Actual Danish Girl.

Chris Rock’s monologue has gone down well with Most of Twitter, even if he struggled with Charlize Theremin’s name. Our spokesperson from social media? Amy Schumer, who says he “murdered” the Oscars. That’s a good thing, I think?

While Stephen King says he “killed it”

So much death. So much needless, tragic death.

The choice of play-off music this year is Ride of the Valkyries, by the way. This is a dreadful choice. Defiantly shout above Ride of the Valkyries during your acceptance speech and you’re just going to look incredibly cool. Really the play-off music should be the sort of lumpy-pumpy tuba tune that reality shows play whenever a fat person walks up some stairs.

Two awards, two play-offs. Charles Randolph thanks his wife and starts to thank his kids when the notes come a-knocking. This orchestra hates children.

A lovely bit of breezy, non-stilted awards banter from Ryan Gosling and Russell Crowe, presenting best adapted screenplay. I’m sure John Travolta is going to bound onstage and drag everything to a halt in a minute by making a noise like a tiger choking on an elk, but we’re going great guns so far.

Nice win for Spotlight. I feel like journalism is the real winner here. All journalism. Especially the sort of journalism that involves desperately recounting everything that happens on an E! red carpet programme. Yes. Really I am the winner of this Oscar.

Emily Blunt and Charlize Theron announce the first nominees. Apparently this ceremony is going to track the filmmaking process. The first award is for best original screenplay. If this is really going to be the theme of the evening, the next award will have to be best extensive succession of heartbreaking rejection letters.

Monologue over. That was amazing. Given that a couple of years ago this space was filled with Seth Macfarlane singing a song about boobs, this is a huge leap forward.

“Paul Giamatti is the greatest actor in the world” says Chris Rock. Immediate cut to Christian Bale seething with rage. If these reaction shots keep going at this rate, this is going to be the best Oscar ceremony ever.

Still, the most fun to be had during this monologue is watching all the uneasy reaction shots. This is a golden time for anyone who enjoys seeing Matt Damon glancing around nervously to see how hard he should be applauding at things.

This is such a tricky line for him to walk, too. He’s found himself representing both sides of the argument, and he could so easily alienate half of the audience. But Chris Rock is great and he’s doing well and hooray for everything.

This is already a pretty decent monologue. It’s entirely about diversity so far, and Chris is attacking it with exactly the right level of energy.

Chris Rock walks out to Fight The Power by Public Enemy. Because nothing says rebellion like a series of slick links to Lady Gaga performances.

There is now such a long montage of recent films that I’m half expecting it to be followed by an announcement that there’s still time to buy a hotdog in the lobby.

OK. The Oscars are starting now. Bits of dust labelled “Passion” and “Heart” are pouring into cameras, and shooting into the sky as fireworks. They’re either the qualities necessary to make an Oscar-winning film or the name of the first two direct-to-DVD thrillers a producer saw on the way to the ceremony.

Here’s what Ben Zauzmer’s evil magic (maths) says will win ...

Keep track of who won what when with our “Full list of winners”. That headline gets more honest as the night wears on ...

Obviously when I said “now” I meant “at some point”.

NOW! The moment we’ve all been waiting for! RYAN SEACREST GIVES A BOX TO A WOMAN! I’ve been waiting three hours for this moment, and it’s everything I expected.

Not really, it was awful. I’m going to ditch E! for the actual Oscars now. I’ve never been happier.

Ready yourself bingo babes. The Oscar ceremony is about to start, which means hunkering down with your score card and waiting, waiting, WAITING for a speech about racism / a poo joke pegged to The Martian / Jennifer Lawrence falling over again. Eyes down!

Ryan Seacrest, after disappearing for an extraordinary length of time, has now elbowed his way into the Kardashian love-in. And only now have I realised that he’s the spitting image of David Hasselhoff.

Nine minutes until the actual Oscars. That’s all. Nine minutes. We can do this.

And now an advert for breast enlargement. Judging from the commercials I’ve seen tonight, the majority of E! viewers are constipated teenagers with fake boobs and traces of blood in their urine.

Stuart Heritage, 35, flaunts his enviable curves in a T-shirt he got given for free in 2013 and a pair of slacks that he’s been wearing for four days straight even though they’re covered in wads of baby food. Work it Stu! Are those knock-off Jaffa Cakes you’re accessorising with? Wow! You’re all grown up!

All kinds of wrong here: Riley’s dress is very Dita Von Teese circa 2006 and Hardy’s goatee and sunglasses make him look as if he’s checking in on a budget airline en route to his mate’s stag do.

You know that film The Lawnmower Man? You know how it’s about a man who gets sucked into the internet and goes mad? Watching this show makes me feel like I’m starring in a version of The Lawnmower Man that’s specifically set in the Daily Mail’s sidebar of shame.

We didn’t know there was going to be another Matrix film, but presumably this explains Kerry Washington’s warrior queen ensemble. Hopefully she’ll take the blue pill and the dress will change...

E! has a show called LA Clippers Dance Squad, and they’ve run so many commercials for it that I’ve started to imagine that it’s actually a show called LA Clippers Dance Squid, and it’s about a dancing squid, and oh god help me someone please.

STILL NO ROOM FOR YOU LEO

NEVER LET GO. Rose and Jack if Jack had become a middle management accountant and Rose if she’d had to wrestle a wet seal in order to make a dress.

True story: I just toyed with the idea of switching over to the Sky red carpet coverage, but I had a look and it was just Alex Zane, dressed as a Bugsy Malone extra, staring at a screen in a warehouse in Middlesex. So E! it is, then. I’m trapped with E! forever. I’ve never wished for early-onset Stockholm Syndrome harder than I am now.

A navel-skimming V. Is that for risqué reasons or is she doing all she can to fulfil a diamond contract by drawing attention to that million-dollar medallion there?

This from top Oscar stat man Ben Zauzmer, who’s doling out data on probable wins and the odd historical tidbit. He’s implying this ceremony could be one of the shortest on record. We watch, we wait, we pray Ben. We watch, we wait, we pray.

A shout out for the Seacrest tuxedo line (available exclusively at Macy’s) now. I cannot wait for the actual Oscars to start now. This red carpet show is like being machine-gunned to death by fire alarms.

I am watching four women struggle to describe a tuxedo. This is their job, and all they have to do is say what it looks like, and they’re having trouble doing it. What luck do the rest of us have?

What is Jared Leto saying with his statement flower? That he hates bow-ties? That he’s forgotten his bow-tie? Or that 30 Seconds To Mars’ next album is going to have a flamenco theme running through it?

Gaga scores a red carpet first with a dress* with its very own camel toe.

*it’s technically more of a strapless jumpsuit with a train. And it’s very Little White Wedding Chapel.

What happened to the dreadful bob-obsessed people? They haven’t been onscreen for about an hour now. Perhaps they’ve gone fully feral at this point. Perhaps they’re charging around Hollywood, growling the world “bob” at each other and draping strands of dirty toilet paper over their heads in a disgusting effort to convince themselves that they can finally pull off the Lawrence bob. Perhaps they’re rolling on the floor, screaming furiously at the world for not recognising the majesty of the Lawrence bob as intensely as they do. Perhaps a vet took them out with a tranquiliser dart. Perhaps.

Not into those creases unless they’re an homage to the intentionally creased Spotlight wardrobe. Also the Right Leg thing is so beta and that train is going to cause issues in the loo queue.

Chris Rock is still trimming his opening bit. Leave it alone Chris. The last thing we need’s more white space.

BREAKING: I am losing the will to live.

Meanwhile, in France:

Time for a quick E! News update. The real stories that they actually talk about:

• A Kardashian did a Snapchat

Nope, that’s it. That’s literally the only story they covered. A Kardashian did a Snapchat. A Kardashian did a Snapchat. That’s the one thing that E! could find to discuss. A Kardashian doing a Snapchat. It wasn’t even a good Snapchat. It was just a Snapchat of their face. That’s it. That’s all there is. A Kardashian did a Snapchat.

There will be no journalists 10 years from now, and nobody will miss us.

NEWS FLASH: It’s the red carpet’s first male bare ankle! Yes, Pharrell gone full on mankle. In fact, with his bleached blonde hair and black brogues, he’s scoring very high fashion points.

For anyone joining us a tad late, earlier the Reverend Al Sharpton lead a crowd of protesters in an anti-Oscars protest. Sharpton, waving an Oscar statue painted white, said this year would be “the last all-white Oscars”. He led the protestors in a march, during which they chanted “Greenlight diversity” and “Diversify the Academy”. Nicky Woolf’s full report is here:

Julianne Moore has arrived in Chanel and giant Polo mint earrings which makes things a lot easier for the whole “get the Oscar look” industry which will be getting itself into gear in a couple of hours.

I’m not sure what just happened. A host said the word “Samsung” and then the camera immediately cut to the following images, as if suddenly panicked:

• A long, slow close-up of Kate Winslet’s face
• A still of a trivia question about breakfast cereal
• The world’s longest shot of an empty staircase

I know that live TV is tricky, and this might have been an accident, but I hope that either the woman aggressively slandered Samsung, or Samsung is about to launch a new line of robot Kate Winslet stair-butlers.

Judd Apatow is at the Vanity Fair viewing party. I’m sure he’s having lots of fun. Vanity Fair is a good publication with many terrific things going for it.

Cate is A Serious Actor and so it’s a bit of a surprise she’s gone a bit off script here: this Armani meets a turquoise Big Bird is a winner.

Eleven beers and three bottles of wine at the office. Meanwhile I’m at home, stone cold sober with just an iffy packet of supermarket Jaffa Cakes to tide me over until 5am. I really mucked up there, didn’t I?

Are we allowed to like the dress given the circs? Or not. Because the beaded square-boob patch-pockets, the crew neck and the sleeves are sort of excellent. And the shoes are a bit like the emoji keyboard shoes. Wardrobe done, now can she sort out the other stuff?

The E! red carpet coverage has a sponsored feature where viewers can tweet questions to the celebrities. I’m not saying that the whole thing is an unmitigated disaster from start to finish, but the last question just came from a protected account that’s owned by an ABC intern.

Apparently, this long, long discussion of how Tilda Swinton dresses – and it really is enormously long – is actually about a photo of someone else entirely. We know this. Twitter know this. The only people who don’t know that they’ve screwed up are the people talking now. It’s beautiful to watch.

So Brie won the battle for Gucci! To recap for non fashion people who’ve inexplicably found themselves on here. Gucci is so hot right now. It’s the brand that the entire fashion industry is obsessed with at the moment. So Brie wearing Gucci is a massive statement: she’s declared herself to be, you know, properly Fashion, and possibly interested in some sort of fashion contract. Not that you would know it from the Year 11 hair, mind.

One of the Kardashian women just opened her mouth to speak, but Seacrest wrenched the camera away from her because he thought he could get an interview with Vice-President Joe Biden. Then he realised that he could only get an interview with Joe Biden’s wife, and the look of unbridled triumph on the Kardashian woman’s face when the camera cut back to her could power entire villages.

I know you’re not watching E! – because who would – but that was a Shakespearean-level psychodrama.

Flipping hell! Someone’s predicted the future. And it’s horrific! I can bearly watch!

Bryan Cranston just gave Ryan Seacrest a cookie with his face on it, and Seacrest just smashed it to the floor. You DO NOT upstage Ryan Seacrest with personalised baked goods. This is SEACREST’S HOUSE. Don’t come crying to him when he ambushes you with a giant horse-sized croissant that comes complete with a working animatronic Ryan Seacrest face in retaliation next week, Cranston. That’s just how Seacrest rolls.

Fashion fact: David Bowie was, in fact, a Sandy Powell impersonator for most of his life. Tonight, Carol’s costume designer is taking back the sartorial mantle of: shocking orange hair and loon pants. We’ve heard a rumour that she’s written an acceptance speech to the tune of The Laughing Gnome.

Charlotte Rampling is avoiding red carpet interviews, according to our man on the shag, Nigel M Smith. This is probably because she’s bored of telling people who she’s wearing and completely not because of the whole “#Oscarssowhite is racist to white people” thing.

I’m not mad for people who come to the Oscars dressed as an Oscar but I’m convinced by Robbie’s look. Look how happy and comfortable she looks. And look how good her hair looks in a non-retro way. And just look at the overly long tassel on her clutch bag. That tells me she’s a halfway decent party guest, because fun guests dress with a conversation starter. Hopefully she’ll be swishing this around and whipping someone dull in her row with it later.

Biggest story of the night so far from Nigel M Smith ...

Chevron Den woman just said, with pure sincerity in her voice, that Brie Larson was “real” because she was able to reference a burger by name. This genuinely feels like I’m watching a PBS documentary entitled Why Everyone Hates Hollywood.

Mara is staying on brand by doing a kind of “ghost bride” by Givenchy. But will the look come back to haunt her?

Either Brie Larson is taller than I expected, or Ryan Seacrest is the size of an actual human thumb. Which is true? We might never know.

I think I’m doing a pretty good job at this liveblog tonight. However, I’m not doing nearly as good as @TotalBeauty. MAN, they are NAILING IT.

Naomi Watts is wearing Armani Prive with Swarovski crystal stripes. It’s part glam rock, part midnight ocean vibes.

Back in the Chevron Den, the hosts are telling stories about how they may or may not have recognised Margot Robbie in the gym once. Remember this moment, for one day your grandchildren will ask you where you were when this happened. “Not in bed,” you’ll answer. “I should have been in bed.”

There ain’t no party like a Rooney Mara party.

A political statement? Channelling his inner Diane Keaton? Who can say, but Common’s Calvin Klein white tuxedo is a pretty bold red carpet statement. The likes of Jared Leto and Matthew McConaughey have worn theirs winningly. Bravo, Common, bravo.

AIR KISS NEWS: Jennifer Jason Leigh just missed Seacrest’s face by such a hilariously wide margin that they possibly exist in different postcodes now.

“Theatre is the hardest work there is,” says Ryan Seacrest, a man paid to blindly repeat the phrase “Who are you wearing?” again and again. Says Stuart Heritage, a man paid to blindly mock a job he doesn’t fully understand again and again.

I don’t want to judge you or anything, but the last two commercials on E! have been for diarrhoea medication and something that monitors your urine for traces of blood. So, you know, that’s the demographic you fall into now.

The Danish Girl star looks predictably impeccable in a velvet tux. Nice slippers too. In fact, posh slippers are the only thing men should be wearing on Oscar night.

If I go quiet for a moment, it’s because the clock in my living room has just failed to acknowledge the leap year and is now displaying the date as March 1st and if I don’t change it immediately there’s a chance that my cranial artery will burst in my goddamned skull.

Saoirse Ronan is currently trolling Ryan Seacrest just about as hard as she can here. He’s asking questions, but she just wants to natter about nothing, and he’s floundering hard. The woman is delightful and I want her to win everything now.

Nigel M Smith has eyes on Alicia Vikander, who is – according to Nige – “waiting to get blinded by the photographers”. Why does she go so willingly to this terrible fate? Why doesn’t she do something? Why doesn’t Nigel do something? Somebody! DO SOMETHING!

We still can’t pronounce her name, but we’re loving Saoirse’s emerald green, Calvin Klein Little Mermaid dress. Do we have to start singing Under the Sea now? We’d rather not...

We’ll get to the contoured cleavage and the missing bit of dress in a moment, but first let’s talk about how the bottom half of the dress is mimicking Snow White. There are the beginnings of a lamentable Disney trend for Oscars 2016: Vikander’s yellow dress is slightly Belle from Beauty, and the Beast and my colleague Priya informs me that Saoirse Ronan has just turned up as the Little Mermaid. I’m hoping for more than Disney please, Oscars. Shall we talk about the top half of this dress now? Let’s not.

Three people have already tweeted me to say they got the Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen reference. Of course, this means that the liveblog now has to finish big with a line about Carol Smillie. You three people have brought this on yourselves.

“When Leo was nominated for his first Oscar, social media hadn’t even been invented.”

WAS THIS SAID BY:

a) Khrushchev during the Vienna Summit

b) William Lyon Phelps in The Pleasure of Books

c) Some slack-jawed E! berk just now, because the sound of their own voice temporarily cancels out the thundering loneliness of life?

Actor Daisy Ridley has gone for Chanel, which is the sartorial equivalent of wearing a life jacket. It’s a safety move.

Stay your hand you bingo buff. That is NOT a fist Sly Stallone is raising. It’s a thumbs-up. And that, dear box checker, is Sly’s OTHER pose.

Back to the two worst people who ever lived. They’re poring over a photo of Alicia Vikander climbing out of a car. Her hair “looks a little Ariana Grande”, they say. When the world destroys itself in the years to come, I hope God carves “Her hair looks a little Ariana Grande” on its gravestone.

Sofia Vergara’s making ch-ch-changes by not wearing a mermaid dress. We literally don’t know what to think.

Sorry Elton, but Whoopi thinks Tarantulas and Taffeta is the new Tantrums and Tiaras.

BREAKING: Dave Grohl has arrived on the red carpet.

BREAKING: Dave Grohl has somehow transmogrified into Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen.

BREAKING: I realise this joke only works if you’re a) British, b) over the age of 30 and c) familiar with the world of celebrity interior design, but that doesn’t matter. The resemblance is uncanny, and four people around the world will appreciate that I took the time to point this out.

Carol writer Phyllis Nagy tells our own red carpet roamer Nigel M Smith that we must “band together to effect change”. She surely means in the musical sense, to shorten Leo’s dreadful odds? That’s what Adele and Gaga are up to. It suddenly all makes sense.

OK we have confirmation fashion watchers. It is Vuitton, repeat, it is Vuitton.

A scenario. You’re trapped in a small room with an E! red carpet presenter. How long can you listen to them speak before you smash a window and drive a shard of glass through your eye and brain? Your answer in milliseconds please.

BOOM. The actual Fashion has started. No word from Vikander’s people yet, but surely given her recent red carpet form this has to be by Louis Vuitton? Important things to note: it’s yellow, appears to have some sort of fancy embellishment on it and it’s a mullet hem. Oh and she has what we’re calling Prom Hair. Good swishing though Vikander, good swishing.

Alicia Vikander is on the red carpet, a full 90 minutes earlier than she really should be. The good news is that she’s come dressed as the very concept of Easter. The bad news is that she said “Just by being here, we’re all winners”, which means that she definitely isn’t going to win.

They’re serving Sam Smith tea now, because Sam Smith is British. I realise that this sounds like the usual vacuous would-be filler item that a channel like E! uses to fill its endless schedule of nothing, but it’s actually quite interesting. These last few seconds have taught me that Sam Smith wouldn’t know how to hold a teacup if his life depended on it. That’s something, right?

Who’s wearing who? How well are they wearing them? Do those being worn mind? Find out via the fashion team’s red carpet gallery:

It’s Gollum and his actor wife Lorraine. Or “Landy” as no one calls them. Her hair is a bit post-10k run and her louche bare shoulder suggests that she’s feeling ready for that free champagne. Fashion approval rating is high for this kind of participatory attitude.

Adele is also in Leo’s corner. That’s great, because if there’s one thing miles ahead favourite Leonardo DiCaprio needs, it’s the support of the biggest pop stars in the world. He’s definitely, absolutely going to struggle to win without their help. Come on Bono. Lend your voice.

Seacrest is interviewing Mindy Kaling. “You’re doing very well,” Mindy tells Seacrest while studiously avoiding all eye contact, for she knows that being caught in a lie of this unstoppable magnitude would surely spell the end of her career.

The squillions of you planning to play along with our Oscars bingo might want to ready your sharpies: Room star Jacob Tremblay is warming up The Cute.

We are loving Mindy Kaling in her black and blue train dress, it’s up there with our favourite train dresses at the Oscars: J-Lo’s Elie Saab number and Lupita Nyongo’s in Prada. In fact, it’s Elizabeth Kennedy, so there.

So Sian was the makeup artist on The Revenant, and we’re not sure who her plus one is but he definitely got the wilderness beard memo.

The two bob-obsessed hosts are back. They’re essentially just scrolling through Instagram now. The sheer, universe-ending pointlessness of their job just struck one of them right between the eyes like a diamond bullet. “We’re gonna get our stuff together soon” he pleads with us, eyes quivering with heartbreaking sadness.

Obviously I – as someone who liveblogs the E! red carpet show for a living – am expecting a similar epiphany in the next 20 minutes or so.

Lady Gaga is rooting for Leo. After he screw-faced her at the Globes and all.

It’s nice that the members of nominated short film Shok have turned up dressed as members of N*Sync.

Sophie Turner from Game of Thrones is in the weird little E! chevron den. There was genuinely just a 45-second stretch where she and the host just thanked each other for being there over and over again. AND NOW: an advert for a TV show about a celebrity psychic. E! is my new favourite.

I mean if Diane Warren could turn back time (google it) she might have booked in a haircut and maybe ditched the elasticated bunion-friendly boots. We’re being harsh but, well, it is the Oscars.

Carol screeenwriter Phyllis Nagy does gender neutral tux-ing. Which means she’s first to score points for an actual fashion trend. But she needs to up her hand game. A double thumbs up could have worked here.

Director of Winter on Fire, Evgeny Afineevsky, and producer Den Tolmor have arrived, with Den sporting a rare royal blue shade of tux with black lapels to mix it up. It’s a strong menswear look, although we still waiting for a Dennis Rodman circa 1997 to turn up.

Meanwhile Nigel M Smith wants his Oscars white, milk OR dark. He’s on the red carpet trying to catch chocs slung at him by Wolfgang Puck’s kids.

Two people on E! just said that they’re obsessed with Jennifer Lawrence’s bob. They’re literally obsessed. One of them just rolled up a sleeve, snapped a ballpoint pen in half and started to cover their arms in scratchy prison tattoos of Jennifer Lawrence’s bob. The other one has started to talk with all the normal cadences of adult conversation, but they’re only saying the words “Jennifer Lawrence’s bob” over and over again. I think they might be planning to literally eat Jennifer Lawrence’s hair by the end of the night. That’s how obsessed they are. I’m a bit scared.

TV presenter Keltie Knight demonstrates that red origami silk equals effort over sartorial ability.

BREAKING: Here’s what Chris Rock ordered from McDonald’s for his breakfast today. ALSO BREAKING: there will be no journalists 20 years from now and nobody will be sad.

Guardian US staffer Nicky Woolf is at an anti-Oscars protest led by the Reverend Al Sharpton. Sharpton, brandishing a white Oscar statue, is addressing the crowd. “This is going to be the last night of an all-white Oscars,” he says.

Dorith, u ok hun? Your waist looks a little restricted there. What’s the gameplan? Part in a goth remake of Downton, maybe?

Ryan Seacrest, hand on heart, just pleaded with the E! audience to watch until the end of the show so that we can watch him give a box to a woman. Hear that, everyone else at The Guardian? I’m going to watch a man give a box to a woman and you’re not.

Wolfgang Puck is on the red carpet with the saddest two children I have ever seen in my entire life. He has apparently made a number of specific dishes for specific stars. If I’ve got this right – and I must stress that I’m not completely sure – he’s done this specifically to taunt them for starving themselves in order to fit into their silly red carpet outfits. The Oscars are cruel.

Oh that’s sweet. Jones has done that thing where he’s pressed some leaves and had them varnished into a tuxedo jacket.

Art deco and Marcel waves, Chloe Pirrie is the first actor to go retro. Because nobody can criticise Hollywood nostalgia, right? If you look closely you can see F Scott Fitzgerald screaming in the bodice.

Although I’ve never watched a red carpet show before, I’ve been to a few in my time. The way they tend to work is this: nobody famous turns up until right at the last minute, because all celebrities are power-crazed egotists. So, essentially, I’m going to be making wry, sideways observations about Ryan Seacrest’s ability to fill dead air for the next two and a half hours. TL;DR get snacks.

Beasts of No Nation star Abraham Attah is first to hit the red carpet and even though he’s 15 he’s gone FASHION. Evidence: the no socks and posh slippers. The tux is Dolce and the slippers are, ahem Toms (the ones that accountants wear at the weekend). Also, nice touch that he’s giving his own “thumbs up” fashion review, if this carries on we’ll be out of a job.

Ryan Seacrest just revealed that he’s wearing a tuxedo from the Ryan Seacrest tuxedo range. Tonight just got started on the worst possible terms.

For anyone reading along at home, I am now tuned in to the E! red carpet coverage.

Incidentally, from what I can tell, I am the only person in the entire Guardian who has access to the E! channel. So, with your permission, I’m going to sporadically feed in outright lies about the show, just to screw with my bosses a bit. Hope that’s OK.

This is going to be a night of personal firsts for me, by the way. It’s my first time watching E! (which appears to be a What The Kardashians Did On Their Holiday broadcasting system), my first time watching an Oscars red carpet show (I am excited about this) and my first time eating a packet of Lidl Jaffa cakes (which are AWFUL). What a time to be alive.