For movie fans, it’s already old news: The Coen brothers were indeed the winners of the 80th annual Academy Awards late Sunday evening in Hollywood, with their dark thriller “No Country for Old Men” grabbing the honors for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Supporting Actor (Javier Bardem), and Best Adapted Screenplay. With every trip to the stage for Joel and Ethan, it became clear that, for the most part, the evening was unfolding much as planned.

Ever since the buzz erupted from last year’s Cannes Film Festival, “No Country” has been the film to beat. Similarly, ever since the December debut of “There Will Be Blood,” star Daniel Day-Lewis stood tall as the front-runner for Best Actor. Even stripper-turned-Oscar-winning-screenwriter Diablo Cody was essentially a sure thing since “Juno” made its jubilant premiere in September at the Toronto Film Festival.

Still, among all this predictability, there were still some genuine surprises to be found. Tilda Swinton (“Michael Clayton”) swooped in to steal the Best Supporting Actress award from the much-buzzed-about Cate Blanchett (“I’m Not There”), the crowd-pleasing Ruby Dee (“American Gangster”), and the pre-race favorite Amy Ryan (“Gone Baby Gone”). In the evening’s other shocker, Hollywood heavyweight Julie Christie was edged out by “that French woman” for Best Actress — Marion Cotillard, for her riveting turn in “La Vie en Rose.” Ms. Cotillard joined Mr. Day-Lewis, Ms. Swinton, and Mr. Bardem as a most notable quartet in Oscar history: For the first time since 1965, all of the evening’s top acting awards went to foreign-born talents.

Watching ABC’s nearly four-hour telecast, the international winning streak was only one part of a night filled with anti-establishment victories. As the ceremony unfolded, the disconnect between what was happening on the stage and who was sitting in the first few rows of the audience became increasingly clear. In the end, Hollywood’s biggest night didn’t have a whole lot to do with mainstream Hollywood. Nor did it have much to do with money-making. Nielsen Media Research said yesterday that preliminary ratings for the Oscars telecast were 14% lower than the least-watched ceremony ever. That was 2003, when 33 million viewers tuned in.

No doubt the televised spectacle also surprised many viewers across America. For those who follow the ins and outs of Oscar campaigns, as well as those fortunate enough to live in a city such as New York, where many of Sunday night’s winning films have now been open in theaters for several months, it was easy to lose sight of just how remarkable this year’s slate of nominees truly was. For us, names like Cotillard, Swinton, and Bardem, and titles like “Taxi to the Dark Side” and “Once,” became part of the casual cinema conversation. So familiar were we with the pack that we began to carefully scrutinize the chances of “Persepolis” to best “Ratatouille” in the Best Animated Film category — not realizing that the $200 million difference in their box-office receipts probably played the biggest role in determining the winner. We hear “Persepolis” and think of the closing night of the New York Film Festival; the majority Americans, however, never heard the word “Persepolis” until Sunday, and may never hear it again.

What was particularly ironic about Sunday’s telecast was the way in which the resolution of the writers’ strike actually called attention to the irrelevance of this year’s Academy Awards. If the Oscars had suffered the same fate as the Golden Globes, and all the awards had been doled out in a haphazard press conference that was watched only by devout fanatics, there would have been little news, indeed. The majority of the statues went to the recognized front-runners.

But watching on television, with all the paparazzi allure, one couldn’t help but be struck by the dissonance. With the red carpet once again unfurled, what was suddenly apparent at the Kodak Theatre was how few major celebrities took to the stage to thank anybody.

At no point in the evening was this more apparent than in the five performances of the “Best Original Song” nominees. No fewer than three poppy tunes from the Disney musical “Enchanted” were staged in traditional, grandiose Oscar form, complete with professional dancers, gorgeous costumes, and rousing symphonic accompaniments. Then, amid all these superficial treats, there was the performance by Glen Hansard and Marketá Irglová of their song “Falling Slowly,” from last year’s indie sensation “Once” (which remained on New York movie screens for more than half the year).

In place of a choreographed dance routine, Mr. Hansard and Ms. Irglová took to the stage with heart and humility, her sitting at the piano and him holding a bruised and tattered guitar. Later, as they were pronounced winners, they became the most memorable victors of the evening, utterly in awe of the statue and the venue, and describing Sunday’s ceremony as the culmination of an unlikely journey that has turned them from little-known performers into sought-after Oscar winners.

The duo’s starry eyes seemed to parallel the bewilderment of Ms. Swinton, who had said earlier on the red carpet that she had never before watched an Oscars telecast, and of Ms. Cotillard, who came to the microphone to accept her Best Actress statuette emotionally and ecstatically.

Then there were the Coen brothers, whose lack of astonishment was equally notable. Looking slightly bored, and saying little, they epitomized the ceremony’s quizzical nature, an evening filled with winners who triumphed this year largely without the help of mainstream Hollywood, in movies of small budgets and limited distribution.

Even Mr. Day-Lewis, the night’s surest bet, is hardly a Jack Nicholson or George Clooney figure. Would the typical moviegoer even recognize Mr. Day-Lewis, out of character, if he were walking down the street?

The evening saw the likes of Tom Hanks, Charlize Theron, Harrison Ford, Jessica Alba, and Renée Zellweger — certified box office celebrities — but they were present only as presenters, onlookers, and seat fillers. The real winners of the night were a new crop of up-and-comers. One could have been forgiven for mistaking the whole thing as the Independent Spirit Awards dressed in Oscars’ clothing.
On a night when Hollywood so often pats itself on the back, it sure seemed as though there was a lot of reaching to the B- and C-list talent, all seated in the back rows. No doubt Netflix was buzzing Monday morning as the majority of America rushed to update its queues — wondering just what the heck “La Vie en Rose,” “Taxi to the Dark Side,” and those two droll brothers Coen are all about.

ssnyder@nysun.com