Golden Globes Post Mortem

Ok. So, who among you votes to forever ban the broadcast of the Cecil B. DeMille Lifetime Achievement Award? Could there be a single more wankishly, unforgiveably boring waste of 20+ minutes of an already astoundingly self-congratulatory event? Oooh, great, we get to watch the escalation of Al Pacino's scenery-chewing tendencies. Wake me when it's over, ok? Better yet, could we have a commercial-free episode of Friends or something slipped into that slot? Because it would fit perfectly, and would save the viewing audience at home from nearly half an hour of excruciating boredom.

You've seen the awards show. You've scanned the list of winners in the newspaper. Now here's my little list of Awards They Left Out:

Most Embarrasing Flub: It's a tie, between the broadcast's announcer, who referred to Tom Cruise's next film as Vanilla Ice (cue massive eye-roll), and Elizabeth Taylor, whose climactic "It can't get worse than this. No wait, it can!" pas-de-trois with the teleprompter and award envelope for the Best Film (Drama) award was riveting, in that car wreck on the side of the highway kind of way.

Ditziest Acceptance Speech By An Award Recipient Who Really Ought To Have Known Better, Because This Is Her Second Consecutive Win, Forlordsakes!: Sarah Jessica Parker. Girl, please, write some names down next year, ok? We all know you're earnest & heartfelt, but this whole "Oh, I just can't believe I won! Again!" schtick is getting a little old. But. I loved your dress. Pink is totally your colour.

Most Bored-Looking Presenter: Paul Hogan, who introduced the HFP's Egyptian representative. Jeez, Crocodile Dundee, if it's such a chore for you to throw on a tux, eat a yummy dinner, have all the free booze you want, and then say a few gracious remarks to pet the hand that feeds you, you can just stay in those Subaru commercials for a few more years, and see how you like them apples.

Most Brutal Shut-Out: Steven Soderbergh. Throw the man a frickin' bone here, people! He directed two -- not one, two -- of the best movies of the year. Does he win for director? No. For Best Film (Drama)? No. Now, I grant you, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Boog was also one of the best movies of the year, and Ang Lee is a fantastic director, possessed of both vision and technique. So I won't quibble about that one too much. And yes, for sheer spectacle, nothing could beat Gladiator and its one-two punch of pure sexiness in the forms of Russell (rowr) Crowe and Joaquin (rowr, junior division) Phoenix, but was it the best film of the year? Better than Traffic? I think not. I'll stop pissing & moaning about this snub, because everyone knows that the Golden Globes aren't as important as the Oscars, and maybe the HFP was giving awards to movies they knew would never win the Big Awards. But I don't like it when my projected winners are wrong.

Biggest Sigh of Relief: Me, when George Clooney won for his role in Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? over Gibson & DeNiro. I would have been happy with either Clooney or Cusack, really. But Clooney has been flat-out robbed over the last few years (no nominations for his work in Out of Sight or the cruelly overlooked Three Kings), so I saw this as a sweet bit of vindication. Plus, his acceptance speech was hilarious. So, rock on with your Cary Grant gone naughty self, George.

Ok. Now, onto The Important Stuff: Fashion. I was pleasantly surprised. With the exception of Charlize Theron, who I can usually count upon to look absolutely stunning, but who was sporting some kind of terribly misguided dominatrix gear, most of the ladies looked lovely. Sarah Jessica Parker's dress was very pretty, Angelina Jolie & Jennifer Lopez both went for slightly conservative glamour, while Julia Roberts, Renee Zellweger, and Gillian Anderson were all varying degrees of stunning, gorgeous, and oh. my. god. in black. Good job, ladies! (Oop - I almost wrote laides, which would have given my few French readers the wrong idea. Because, see, "laides" means "uglies." Geddit? It would have been all ironic and stuff, after I said all those nice things about how beautiful they all looked? Never mind. Typo humour is overrated, anyway.)

The only mens' fashions I feel compelled to comment on are Tom Hanks, whose Nazi-style facial hair gave me the dry-heaves, and Matthew McConaughey, who makes a very handsome bald (well, head-shaved) guy.
Monday, January 22, 2001 12:02 a.m.