Monday, January 12, 2015

A Review of the 2015 Golden Globes

Okay. The Golden Globes. Hmmmm....

I have been dawdling all morning over what is, typically, my first award show review of the new year. 

It's past lunch and I have been flexing my fingers over  the keyboard off and on for two hours. I have taken a break to make a pot of hard boiled eggs,take a Facebook quiz that asked "If you were a waffle iron, what shape would your waffles be?” and search the couch cushions for lost candy. The eggs are cooling on the stove, my waffles would be in the shape of Sylvia Plath with her head in the oven and I found three Rolos in the love seat.

In other words, the Golden Globes were pretty dull.

Sometimes "smart-ass" isn't
always funny.
Especially, I’m sorry to report, Tina and Amy. Two smug little queens of snark, they are usually funny but last night they relied on an easy format of making fun of celebrity and attacking famous faces in the audience, all of whom adopted the same faux "Oh, gee whiz, I will just tolerate this with good humor until it's over" expression when we know they were wet-pants thrilled to be mentioned at all...with the obvious exception of Jennifer Aniston who is thrilled by nothing.

The former Mrs. Brad Pitt is the best preserved, most satin-y skinned, sleekest-without-Spanx and, unfortunately, grimmest and most humorless actress in Hollywood, today.

Her smiles are tight and forced, her guard is always up and it's only a matter of time before Justin Theroux and his eyebrows have had enough. If I am not mistaken, Tina and Amy inferred something about her age so. if they wind up dismembered in a dumpster, we know Rachel Green did it.
Lighten up, Jen.

And speaking of Miss Aniston---very early on in the festivities, she set a high bar not only for self-tanners but also for a phenomenon that is very popular on award shows: some kind of bizarro, glowing, shimmering body cream that women slather on with the hope – I presume – of appearing youthful and dewy. Instead, they gleam like beacons as highlights from their d├ęcolletage and reflections from their collar bones bounce directly into the retinas of the viewing public.Historically, the greatest offender in this department, is one Miss Viola Davis who is beautiful on her own and does not need to glow like a lighthouse in the fog.
Viola. highlighted.

This naturally leads to the stark reality of high def TV. To put it mildly, high def is not flattering to everyone. I,myself, would certainly resemble an over cooked Christmas ham but there was enough mottled flesh on my screen last night to scare a pig farmer right out of the barn.

Flawless but, oh, that dress!

The award for "Best in High Def" last night goes to the pretty John Legend and the flawless Keri Washington even if she was wearing a dress borrowed from the set of a Star Wars spin-off.

There were moments of unbearable self-righteous audience behavior as Meryl Streep leaped to her feet to applaud free speech as hard as she possibly could (thanks, Meryl) as well as enjoyable surprises--the irrepressible and ever-sly Prince with his dark glasses and bejeweled walking stick. Colin Firth can do no wrong and Ricky Gervais can do no right. His ever-present tumbler of booze and nutty giggle combined with his determination to shock and offend seemed tired and may finally have been enough to get him un-invited next year.

Sometimes you just have to
tweeze a wee bit.
There were boxes of Godiva open on the tables and the alcohol was flowing so no wonder Gervais was very buzzed. Even typically lady-like Amy Adams was barely coherent as she accepted her award and Salma Hayek was none too pleased with Kevin Hart’s manic behavior. Emily Blunt's eyebrows have gone rogue and Harrison Ford came out looking so much like Tom Brokaw that they are now, officially, interchangeable.
Harrison could share a passport with...
with Tom Brokaw...

George Clooney received yet another award for being charming and self-deprecating and despite his gushing over his new bride, based on her carefully studied and arranged fawning gazes, I am pretty sure she's the alpha cat in that marriage. Identical twins separated at birth, George and Amal look so much alike that it speaks to an ego-driven need to marry oneself. Mazel tov.

And, George is now further adored for his choice of wife, especially after his extended bachelorhood. Amal is ethnic, activist and not your typical Hollywood "face." So, congrats, George--you will soon receive another award for that, no doubt. He will put her to good use when he runs for president in ten years. That's right, America---you heard it here first. And he'll win.

Identical Twins.

Lupita should trade glasses with Kevin....
...because these are not
working, for him.
As for Kevin Spacey, he picked the wrong glasses at Costo, Billy Bob Thornton's hair plugs are looking pretty good and Paul Rudd and Adam Levin were the prettiest couple there. Unfortunately, the two leads in the upcoming and highly erotic "Fifty Shades of Grey," there to co-present an award, have the combined sizzle of a forgotten slab of lox in a deli case.

Uh-oh. No sizzle. Just fizzle.

Then there was Gina Rodriguez who plays the title role in a new and highly acclaimed show called "Jane the Virgin" which I had plans to binge watch on the next inclement weekend. When she won and arrived at the podium with her appealing demeanor and open smile, I was eager to hear something fresh and new only to have her look skyward and say "Thank you, God for making me an artist!" Really,Gina? Phooey. No wonder you're a virgin.

Finally at the end, there was redemption---an actually moving acceptance from the wonderful Michael Keaton, a few minutes of genuine dignity and modest gratitude from Julianne Moore (who is moving higher and higher on my list of favorites) and a hilarious speech from the quirky Wes Andersen, the director of my favorite movie of the year (if not ever), "The Grand Budapest Hotel."

But all that aside, the best surprise of the evening came as a result of social media. 

About midway through the telecast just as I was wishing I were watching Shark Tank instead, I flicked open Facebook and happened upon a comment made by a friend whose posts are always smart and enjoyable. Someone then responded, followed by another irreverent remark and then I put my two sense in. Before you could say, "J-Lo, please put those away!" we had a spontaneous online viewing party until the credits rolled. Now that was fun. The show, not so much.

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