WHERE’S MY GOLDEN GLOBE?
Those of you out there who comprise Entertainment Today’s readership are by now probably well aware of our collective tastes on current cinema. Yes, we’re all very angry and disappointed…but don’t tell our advertisers. Anywho, the 64th Oscars Jr. (aka Golden Globes) happened Monday night, and yes, Thom Yorke was right: no surprises, please.
Few if any of us actually wasted our time watching the show this year. Really, what’s the point? After all, you’ll get the same thing at the Academy Awards (plus a bit more organization). Also, let’s face brass tacks here: the GG’s are awarded based on the votes cast by less than 100 “part-time” journalists who live in Hollywood and abroad…so, again, I ask: what’s the point?
Personally, I was out and about, running amuck with a couple of young devotchkas who taught me quite quickly that you lovely Hollywood dames really are all alike. Of course, it wasn’t necessarily their fault the bar that supposedly gives out free Sake for an hour on Monday nights was closed—it was MLK Day, after all—but that didn’t mean they had to run off to some “indie” skater concert for 15-year-olds and senescent, bald-headed punkers, now did it?
Eh, back to the subject at hand: those 100 part-time journalists picking what they think will be the Oscar winners this year. OK: Best Picture (Drama). Babel?! Seriously?! As Marge Simpson would say: “Whatever!” Now, I’ve declaimed against Misters Iñárritu and Arriaga since I endured the first two parts of the reprehensibly dull Amorres perros, and was, as such, overwhelmed with joy to hear the torrent of bad criticism lavished upon the duo for their supposedly even-more-dull and needlessly circuitous Babel. And, yet, here it is: winner of the Golden Globes’ best picture? What the funk? Eh, I still won’t see it.
Best Picture (Comedy). Hmm…You know there’s something rotten in the state of America when Borat is up for a “Best Picture” at any award ceremony, let alone the GG’s. Now, I liked Borat (not as much as the television show, of course), but best picture? I still agree with our devilishly handsome Editor-In-Chief who felt that Strangers with Candy was the funniest and “best” comedy film of the year. But, I suppose we’re just two peas in a very tight pod. Nevertheless, Dreamgirls nailed this one (I guess it’s a musical?), and Bill Condon (Gods and Monsters, Kinsey) again proves that to make it big in Hollywood, all you need is to be really “happy” and produce a film that appeals to the rest of those “happy” members of the entertainment industry who think being “happy” is just fabulous.
I didn’t see any of the movies nominated for Best Actor (Drama), except for The Departed, but thank goodness Leo didn’t win. Shave that beard, LD! You’re not Johnny Depp! Scorsese ain’t gonna cast you in his rousing biopic of Colonel Sanders, no matter how much you attempt to resemble the man. Helen Mirren is a gem; good for her for winning not one but two GG’s for playing two queens (are you listening, Mr. Condon?). SBC took the GG for Best Actor (Comedy) for Borat, and Ms. Streep took her award for The Devil Wears Prada. PS: I just love how Depp was up for Best Actor (Comedy) for Pirates. I guess they decided to take a cue from the PR team of Snakes on a Plane, eh? Why not pretend it’s a comedy? Or maybe they thought it was a musical?! Either way, even without winning a prize, the flick is certain to take in even more millions of the McDonald’s-eating public with this auspicious nomination. Maybe this also means that Depp can finally go back to making good movies again (whatever happened to that Julian Schnabel flick)?
Dreamgirls swept for both Supporting Actor awards (Eddie Murphy and Jennifer Hudson, respectively), and the biggest “well, duh” decision was the further canonization of Marty, who took in his second GG for Best Director. How ironic that his first award was given to him for the absolutely awful Gangs of New York, and now he receives his second for what could possibly be described as the worst movie of the year and definitely the worst movie of his career.
The Queen and Peter Morgan took the GG for Best Screenplay, which is not a bad choice at all. That movie was exceptionally decent, and possibly could have been bested only by Little Children (at least for the movies nominated). Nobody really cares about Best Song or Score (do you give a damn about the score for The Da Vinci Code? And does the fact that The Fountain received a nom for Best Score make it any better of a movie? No, sir).
Best Foreign Language Film went to Clint’s Letters from Iwo Jima. With two noms this year, will there ever be a day when all of the films nominated will be made by American directors who simply happened to write the dialogue to be spoken in a foreign language? That’s one award ceremony I’d stay home to watch.
Best Animated Film went to Cars, not too surprisingly, and then there were a bunch of winners for television shows and mini-series, but we’re not going to get into that, because writing about television is akin to making television about writing.
And there you go: another year of meaningless Golden Globes, “eco-friendly” limousines, Leo’s Confederate mustache/goatee, Condon’s gay ol’ time, and Marty’s long-awaited booby prize for making a handful of better-than-average films some twenty years ago. Maybe, just maybe, when the Academy Awards air on February 25th, that bar will be open and, even if there’s no girls involved, I can finally get my hour of free Sake and forget all about this awful year of movies.