"Wrinkly Golden Globes"
In case you were watching 24 ...
The ticker shows it's one hour and 18 minutes until the start of the dreamy Golden Globes marathon, and already we're glued to the TV Guide Channel, where Joan Rivers is conducting her annual pre-game show, getting actor James Woods to pretend that he is talking to his dog.
This is our favorite part of the awards show in our house. Four teenage boys are making flying monkey noises each time the camera shows the face under those blonde tresses. "She's like, what?" asks my son, "80 years old?"
Rivers has a light touch on the red carpet. "You make a lovely couple," she says to Marc Anthony and Jennifer Lopez. "I hope this one really works."
I have been busy flagging inflationary terms - "brilliant," "excellent," "spectacular," "amazing," "wonderful." These on-the-spot interviews summon so much good-will from the celebs that I'm convinced we should export them to the world's trouble spots to promote peace on earth.
Don't hate the boozy Golden Globes, the Hollywood Foreign Press Association awards voted on by those sometimes-employed schnorrers who would "cross the Alps for a hot dog," in the immortal words of one wag.
The awards ceremony has come a long way, from ridicule and scandal to a camera-ready event that attracts all the big names.
The foreign press association site describes the awards' history in somber tones - going on about its struggle in the early '40s, the war effort, the pioneers who had trouble convincing Hollywood of the importance of overseas markets.
Inquirer film critic Carrie Rickey describes its current hold in snarkier tones - painting the event as "the most mutually beneficial daisy chain in the history of advertorial arrangements."
In truth, the ceremony tonight does not seem as much fun as the run-up. (Looks like this is not a radical opinion.) Don't tell me all these beautiful people are taking the awards seriously. The early speeches drone on. It takes a while for the band to strike up when someone starts name-checking agents and accountants, and it's time to get the hook.
(This might be the time to check out The Evil Beet's review of favorite Golden Globes dresses.)
There are highlights, though - Hugh Laurie (Dr. Gregory House) confessing that he's literally speechless upon winning best TV drama. He wishes that among the endless swag sent his way over the past few weeks, someone had thought to include a free speech by Dolce & Gabbana.
Meryl Streep helpfully suggests an approach we all can take with our local metroplex managers, so we can see gems like Little Children and Pan's Labyrinth and not just the mass-appeal flicks: "It's amazing what you can get if you quietly, clearly and authoritatively demand it."
And we'll be searching for Sacha Baron Cohen's YouTube moment when he vividly thanks the genitals of his 300-pound co-star, Ken Davitian. Said speech caused his burly co-star, seated at the Borat table, to start chugging his wine from the bottle.
Anyway, lots of Golden Globe goodies on the Internets right now. Will add more. Among the highlights:
The IRS killed the swag bag. A Blogcritics post describes the loot laid on last year's celebrity presenters: a $2000 gym membership, a $1,200 diamond pendant, an $865 Chopard watch, a $475 camera phone, handbags, MP3 players, and a slew of gift certificates - all valued at the paltry total of $40,000.
The Broadcast - Tanya Barrientos and Karen Heller's dishy podcast - takes on the Globes.
The Daily News' Ellen Gray blogged the hog from Los Angeles.
All of Defamer's Golden Globes coverage in one neat package -- and more words like these:
deep in our hearts, we suspect that performers can never possibly be drunk enough, dispirited enough, or engulfed in the raging flames of nullification enough to please us, the jaded kudocast viewer. But still we watch, because settling in for three-plus hours of watching well-dressed famous people handing gilded trinkets to other famous people (who then go on to recite a list of names of still more people, some of them familiar to us) momentarily makes us feel better about the acute lack of attractive celebrities handing us shiny objects in our own, small, tragically un-televised lives.
jeez, that took forever! thanks.