So, the WGA strike axed the Golden Globes like a pissed off, royalty-demanding Paul Bunyan. Whoopidity-frickin-doo! I plopped down in front of the tube religiously for the Golden Globes up until last year – can’t tell you what I was doing instead, probably something involving the destruction of my liver. Know what? Did not miss it. Not one bit. And my plans for this 13th of January have nothing to do with seeing Jack Nicholson mug like an asshole every time the camera-on light beams off his shades. And hey, my plans are still on. But I bet ol’ Jack’s day planner has got big hole in it now (guess, he’ll have to fill the time tapping some back-door beauty in a luxury suite).
Watching the Golden Globes is akin to front-row seats in a 3rd-grade classroom where the teacher hands out scratch ‘n’ sniff stickers for spelling “please” with more than three letters. I know movie commercials tout Globe noms and wins like they were Nobel Peace Prizes-only better and more spherey-but then again this is the same sort of advertising that’ll pimp Pete “I Get a Blurb Boner” Hammond’s knob-slob for Hannibal Rising.* But two months after the fact, all memory of winners and nominees fade to fog. Seriously, name the best picture winners for the last five years without cheating. If you can do that Rain Man, then give me actors.
Hell, even when the winners take the stage, they rarely seem all that gracious for receiving those clunky bastards. “Thanks foreign press. I’ll proudly display it in a cardboard box with my rare Hot Wheels collection underneath the maid’s bed.” If the winners don’t care, then why should I give a frog’s shit?
But Davey, the Golden Globes are the precursor to the Oscars. Yeah, sort of. Not really. Well at least in temporal terms, I guess. I don’t really buy into the Kool-Aid about the Globes influencing or prophesizing the upcoming Oscars. Yeah, between the two ceremonies, similar films gather noms and trophies, but I think it’s all part of a larger trend with the 500 other awards flung out during this time of the year-and without any doubt the Guild awards tend to predict Oscar noms and winners more accurately than the Globes.
Besides, for any quality films the Globes honor, you still have to remember this is the same group that nominates high-caliber classics such as Hairspray, Bobby, The Devil Wears Prada, and, most infamously, Patch Adams. A nomination for a crapsterpiece like Patch Adams alone cancels any good will I have towards the Globes.
Not saying the giant celebrity circle jerk that is the Oscars are much better. I swear I saw Shakespeare in Love win best picture nine or so loops around the sun ago, but I want to believe that was some bad acid trip I can’t shake.
Obviously the cancellation of the Golden Globes has sparked the “Are the Oscars Gone Too?” chatter. (I do watch the Oscars. After all, like a true movie geek, I need something to bitch about other than the upcoming Justice League abortion.) Maybe it’ll be a no-show and we’ll get three hours of Barbara Walters delivering serious journalism via making Hollywood folk bawl like the little bitches they are. But my gut says otherwise. The Oscars are too big, too ingrained in our pop-culture psyche to not happen. Hollywood will find a way-they damn well better since this is the Coen brothers’ year. And I refuse to fathom the idea of missing out on their about-damn-time moment of glory.
*HOLY SHIT! I typed this sentence, got bored-which normally happens as I’m oozing my turgid scribblings across the page-checked the news, and it appears Maxim just canned Hammond! This was one of my New Year resolutions from last week’s column. Yes, I happy dance when grade-A d-bags lose jobs-that we wish we had- which they sucked at. It’s why I’m a bad, bad man, mister.
