The Golden Globes are usually considered the opening ceremony of the grand movie industry love-in that is awards season, and thankfully they've been and gone. This year's awards show was very typical stuff, ticking all the right boxes of predictability for the right balance of scandal and 'so-what?'-ity. Champagne flutes were toasted to the names of a year of unexceptional but deserving winners. The host was traditionally drubbed by stars and media alike for being rude and an all round naughty boy. The red carpet was typically subdued: stars keeping their most extremely 'hot' and 'not' dresses for later events in the calender. Oh, and there was some typical controversy and signs that the judges were still for sale, which is nice. The status quo was maintained, stars with drinking problems got drunk, and nobody cared about Animation despite the fact that the entire world saw an animated film last year.
Controversy surrounded the inclusion of a film that contained two of cinemas worst C words: Cher and Christina Aguilera. Burlesque seems at first glance the token musical in the 'comedy / musical' category, but that gives this critical and box-office failure far too much credit. Oh, that and the fact that the judges were flown to Las Vegas by Sony on an all-expenses paid trip. Even then you'd have had to refill a lot of Wine Glasses to get the judges interested in Cher. (Presumably if Sonny was around, he'd be there to warn them of this tactic). But then, 'The Tourist' was represented as well, and it was undeniably a mediocre year for comedy (though again, why not put 'Tangled' in the category?)
Ricky Gervais, meanwhile, seemed set on annoying as many needlessly sensitive, overpaid stars as possible. The problem with Gervais' delivery was nothing to do with the satire he aspired to: frankly, the stars need taking down a peg or two every now and then. The problem was that nothing he said was original or especially intelligent. Basically, the British are probably still five seasons behind us on South Park.. Popular lampooing subjects included (but were not limited to): Sarah Jessica Parker's face, closeted scientologists and the 'dimensionality' of visuals and characterisation in contemporary film. When he mysteriously disappeared off stage for an hour, it was assumed that Russel Crowe was beating him up backstage. Only at his most insulting did he break through the clouds of unfunny. "Welcome to a night of partying and heavy drinking. Or, as Charlie Sheen calls it, breakfast". Impressed? Perhaps by his gumption. But I wouldn't send him complementary glassware.
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