Celebrating the Awful
Having celebrated a bit more officially the night before, I spent my birthday night yesterday watching the Golden Globes with close friends. The show was a train wreck, even by awards-show standards. I had forgotten what purely terrible taste the Hollywood Foreign Press has — so much Avatar and the like. Multiple nominations for dreck like It's Complicated. The celebrities, by and large, looked and sounded tranquilized. (Exceptions: Robert Downey, Jr., and Ricky Gervais, though the bar was so low they may have just seemed awake.)
The only real fun was had in discussing appearances and ridiculing the speeches. Kicks were had making fun of poor Harrison Ford, who's ready to be mummified; self-important Meryl Streep and self-important Mo'Nique; dumb-as-rocks James Cameron; Paul McCartney, who's not-so-slowly turning into Mrs. Roper; Julia Roberts, whose mouth has gotten even bigger and may somehow swallow her own head if she lives long enough. Etc.
I argued for why I think Kristen Bell is more attractive than Reese Witherspoon.
Martin Scorsese, one of the few participants showing some twitches of life, actually talked about the past and a few directors who were dead before the cast of Glee was alive. A couple of people nodded. Most eyes glazed over. When Michael Haneke got up to accept his award for Best Foreign Language Film (The White Ribbon), he made his way to the stage from the rafters and George Lucas, sitting at the front of the room, looked at him like he was a janitor who was lost.
The awards were ridiculous enough to not even merit mention: Glee as best comedy over 30 Rock and The Office? What is it about that show that people like? When I hear its High School Musical versions of songs like "Don't Stop Believin'," I just want to shove a fork into my ear.
The five best-looking women of the night, in my humble and unsolicited opinion: Julianna Margulies, January Jones, Rose Byrne, Marion Cotillard, and Bell.
OK, enough about that. Preface to my "top" 100 movies, and then the first installment, coming later today, as promised.
The only real fun was had in discussing appearances and ridiculing the speeches. Kicks were had making fun of poor Harrison Ford, who's ready to be mummified; self-important Meryl Streep and self-important Mo'Nique; dumb-as-rocks James Cameron; Paul McCartney, who's not-so-slowly turning into Mrs. Roper; Julia Roberts, whose mouth has gotten even bigger and may somehow swallow her own head if she lives long enough. Etc.
I argued for why I think Kristen Bell is more attractive than Reese Witherspoon.
Martin Scorsese, one of the few participants showing some twitches of life, actually talked about the past and a few directors who were dead before the cast of Glee was alive. A couple of people nodded. Most eyes glazed over. When Michael Haneke got up to accept his award for Best Foreign Language Film (The White Ribbon), he made his way to the stage from the rafters and George Lucas, sitting at the front of the room, looked at him like he was a janitor who was lost.
The awards were ridiculous enough to not even merit mention: Glee as best comedy over 30 Rock and The Office? What is it about that show that people like? When I hear its High School Musical versions of songs like "Don't Stop Believin'," I just want to shove a fork into my ear.
The five best-looking women of the night, in my humble and unsolicited opinion: Julianna Margulies, January Jones, Rose Byrne, Marion Cotillard, and Bell.
OK, enough about that. Preface to my "top" 100 movies, and then the first installment, coming later today, as promised.
posted by JMW at 2:48 PM
2 Comments:
I don't believe you.
I argued for why I think Kristen Bell is more attractive than Reese Witherspoon.
This is in dispute?
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