Unmitigated Snark: Golden Globe Edition
FFH spends three nights of the year in full-on starfucker mode, and Monday's Golden Globes telecast was one of them. Anna will follow soon with a fashion roundup. Here's the immediate reaction from our couch:
By our count, during the two-hour E! preshow, at least four different people made jokes about "Golden Globes," in reference to breasts. It wasn't funny the first time. The highlight of preshow was Issac Mizrahi, who, when he wasn't plugging his own talk show on The Style Network, kept grabbing the breasts of various starlets, including the full-on grope of Scarlett Johansson. Hot. And by the way, how shocking is it that Johansson is kissing someone in the clip of Woody Allen's new movie Match Point, but that person on the other end of the liplock isn't, in fact, Woody Allen?
The theme of the night early on seemed to be politics. George Clooney won for Syriana, Rachel Weisz for The Constant Gardener and Geena Davis (whose acceptance speech was priceless) for Commander in Chief. Clooney opened the night by thanking Jack Abramoff, deftly mixing Republican corruption and masturbation in the same quip. Actually, those two topics don't seem all that unrelated. It should be noted though, that even as the politics of the night came through, the NBC telecast itself was sponsored by Hummer. And by the way, when I watch one of the 24-hour news channels, it just seems as though every time they do the "WAR ON TERROR" graphic it ought to just say brought to you by Hummer.
One imagines that Brokeback Mountain falls into that category as well, given the way it injects homosexuality into the cowboy, a symbol of "red state" iconography. I haven't actually seen the movie, so I can't comment directly on it. But I go back and forth on what I think about political readings of the film. I object to guys like David Horowitz injecting politics into everything, such as his recent claim that Journalism schools need to hire outwardly conservative professors to counterbalance the obvious liberal bias being taught to a generation of reporters. He even had a poll showing that vast most J-School profs voted for Kerry, as though that proved anything. The problem with that suggestion is that it confers legitimacy on the point of view that people can never divorce themselves from their politics. Horowitz probably feels this way because he's an inverted Marxist. He's a conservative partisan, but he can't really get away from dialectical materialism, so suddenly it's Democrats vs. Republicans not Capitalists vs. Proletariat. I believe that everything exists within a political framework. But ascribing coherent political views to works of art is ridiculous, and people that reflexively do that are weak-minded and inherently untrustworthy.
Melanie Griffith's 16-year-old daughter Dakota (is Griffith the one who started the fucking Dakota trend?) got the job of escorting winners off the stage. Mother stood with daughter introducing a clip from The Producers. Daughter looked completely bored. Here's what I imagine was going through little Dakota's head: "Meow, meow, meow meow. ... Hey do you think Adrien Brody can score me some smack after the show?... meow, meow, meow. ... I like corn, except for the carbs." (Simpsons reference intended)
What is this Showtime-winning-awards shit? I thought only HBO won awards. Of course, Mary-Louise Parker (Weeds, whatever that is) probably deserves it because she's fucking awesome pretty much 100 percent of the time. And it was nice that she dedicated the award to John Spencer. Stay classy, Mary-Louise. (Anchorman reference also intended) Also, how the hell is Lifetime (Human Trafficking, whatever that is) getting nominations? The democratization of cable television is really fucking with my head.
Anna insists that Bob Hoskins has had a long and distinguished career, but I only think of him as the guy from Who Framed Roger Rabbit? I started to feel bad about that, but a quick trip to IMDB to fetch that link revealed that Hoskins is going to be in next year's Jennifer Love Hewitt vehicle, Garfield 2. And suddenly, I don't feel so bad.
If you really needed to re-make The Pink Panther, signing Steve Martin to play the Peter Sellers' role is about as good as you could hope to get. But why would you really want to do that?
Foreign people thanking Focus Films is inherently funny. It's even better when "Fuck-us" film is thanked for making Brokeback Mountain, and you know what I'm talking about.
NBC insists on showing shots of celebrities mingling during the commercials. This is probably meant to establish that stars are real people too, who are really just fans and are thrilled with the opportunity to bounce around and hug other famous people. Given the chance to hug Drew Barrymore (and if you saw what she was wearing, you know what I'm talking about), I imagine most guys take it. But it's hard to imagine getting stuck at a table with someone like Jessica Alba, who clearly has nothing to say. And once you exhausted the topic of her dress, her makeup, her personal trainer and her latest project (which is to say 30 minutes into the evening), all there is to do is sit quietly and chug champagne. So maybe, it's not surprising that everyone is floating around the room during the breaks, trying to escape desperately dull people. I imagine Hollywood has a higher proportion of people who can't string two (unscripted) sentences together than your average cocktail party.
And while I'm not part of the fashion critique on this blog, I will say that I'm heavily in favor of beards, which many of the men seemed to be sporting tonight.
By our count, during the two-hour E! preshow, at least four different people made jokes about "Golden Globes," in reference to breasts. It wasn't funny the first time. The highlight of preshow was Issac Mizrahi, who, when he wasn't plugging his own talk show on The Style Network, kept grabbing the breasts of various starlets, including the full-on grope of Scarlett Johansson. Hot. And by the way, how shocking is it that Johansson is kissing someone in the clip of Woody Allen's new movie Match Point, but that person on the other end of the liplock isn't, in fact, Woody Allen?
The theme of the night early on seemed to be politics. George Clooney won for Syriana, Rachel Weisz for The Constant Gardener and Geena Davis (whose acceptance speech was priceless) for Commander in Chief. Clooney opened the night by thanking Jack Abramoff, deftly mixing Republican corruption and masturbation in the same quip. Actually, those two topics don't seem all that unrelated. It should be noted though, that even as the politics of the night came through, the NBC telecast itself was sponsored by Hummer. And by the way, when I watch one of the 24-hour news channels, it just seems as though every time they do the "WAR ON TERROR" graphic it ought to just say brought to you by Hummer.
One imagines that Brokeback Mountain falls into that category as well, given the way it injects homosexuality into the cowboy, a symbol of "red state" iconography. I haven't actually seen the movie, so I can't comment directly on it. But I go back and forth on what I think about political readings of the film. I object to guys like David Horowitz injecting politics into everything, such as his recent claim that Journalism schools need to hire outwardly conservative professors to counterbalance the obvious liberal bias being taught to a generation of reporters. He even had a poll showing that vast most J-School profs voted for Kerry, as though that proved anything. The problem with that suggestion is that it confers legitimacy on the point of view that people can never divorce themselves from their politics. Horowitz probably feels this way because he's an inverted Marxist. He's a conservative partisan, but he can't really get away from dialectical materialism, so suddenly it's Democrats vs. Republicans not Capitalists vs. Proletariat. I believe that everything exists within a political framework. But ascribing coherent political views to works of art is ridiculous, and people that reflexively do that are weak-minded and inherently untrustworthy.
Melanie Griffith's 16-year-old daughter Dakota (is Griffith the one who started the fucking Dakota trend?) got the job of escorting winners off the stage. Mother stood with daughter introducing a clip from The Producers. Daughter looked completely bored. Here's what I imagine was going through little Dakota's head: "Meow, meow, meow meow. ... Hey do you think Adrien Brody can score me some smack after the show?... meow, meow, meow. ... I like corn, except for the carbs." (Simpsons reference intended)
What is this Showtime-winning-awards shit? I thought only HBO won awards. Of course, Mary-Louise Parker (Weeds, whatever that is) probably deserves it because she's fucking awesome pretty much 100 percent of the time. And it was nice that she dedicated the award to John Spencer. Stay classy, Mary-Louise. (Anchorman reference also intended) Also, how the hell is Lifetime (Human Trafficking, whatever that is) getting nominations? The democratization of cable television is really fucking with my head.
Anna insists that Bob Hoskins has had a long and distinguished career, but I only think of him as the guy from Who Framed Roger Rabbit? I started to feel bad about that, but a quick trip to IMDB to fetch that link revealed that Hoskins is going to be in next year's Jennifer Love Hewitt vehicle, Garfield 2. And suddenly, I don't feel so bad.
If you really needed to re-make The Pink Panther, signing Steve Martin to play the Peter Sellers' role is about as good as you could hope to get. But why would you really want to do that?
Foreign people thanking Focus Films is inherently funny. It's even better when "Fuck-us" film is thanked for making Brokeback Mountain, and you know what I'm talking about.
NBC insists on showing shots of celebrities mingling during the commercials. This is probably meant to establish that stars are real people too, who are really just fans and are thrilled with the opportunity to bounce around and hug other famous people. Given the chance to hug Drew Barrymore (and if you saw what she was wearing, you know what I'm talking about), I imagine most guys take it. But it's hard to imagine getting stuck at a table with someone like Jessica Alba, who clearly has nothing to say. And once you exhausted the topic of her dress, her makeup, her personal trainer and her latest project (which is to say 30 minutes into the evening), all there is to do is sit quietly and chug champagne. So maybe, it's not surprising that everyone is floating around the room during the breaks, trying to escape desperately dull people. I imagine Hollywood has a higher proportion of people who can't string two (unscripted) sentences together than your average cocktail party.
And while I'm not part of the fashion critique on this blog, I will say that I'm heavily in favor of beards, which many of the men seemed to be sporting tonight.
1 Comment(s):
- Posted by
Jeff'y at January 17, 2006 6:10 AM |
Permanent Link to this Comment
Halfway into reading this post, a very annoying ad for dog maulings popped up on my screen (and Safari normally does a good job of blocking ads). You might want to look into that. Google Ads run amuck?
I will continue to make that joke any time I'm given the opportunity.
