If Sunday night’s telecast of the Golden Globe Awards was sequestered in a time capsule and viewed a hundred years from now, people would be dumbfounded; these are actors? Stuttering, shaking, stammering their inane acceptance speeches; surprised? They have known for months that they have a 20% chance of winning; hire a speech writer, be prepared NOT to make a fool of yourself. Jacqueline Bisset, must have suffered a mal seizure when her name was announced; prodded from her seat, taking agonizing, plodding minutes before ascending to the podium; winning the “award” for the worst, most embarrassing acceptance in Golden Globe history. The production could only rise from this disastrous, preposterous commencement.
Hosts Tina Fey and Amy Poehler were “fizzless”; they boasted that they did not rehearse and were successful in their blandness; saved by “Poehler’s” hilarious performance as “Randy”, “Mr. Golden Globe”, Fey’s son by an unknown father.
Leonardo DiCaprio, Cate Blanchett, Matthew McConaughy, Jared Leto (Amy Adams’ was so/so) gave appropriate responses to their wins. The star of the evening was Diane Keaton accepting Woody Allen’s lifetime achievement award (curmudgeonly Mr. Allen was not missed); with consummate grace, levity and love she painted Allen’s remarkable filmmaking career. Keaton is an actor’s “actor”; exhibiting her innate aptitude in the art, transformative power of entertainment.
Spending countless hours in the hallowed, darkened halls of movie theatres, leaves scarcely a modicum of time for television viewing; those critiques I will leave to the more qualified.
Little to be garnished from the excruciating three hours; svelte, glamorous stars in extravagant, exorbitantly expensive creations did little to salvage the enervating ennui that cloaked, eventually smothering the broadcast.