Thursday, January 19, 2006

The Golden Globes

Did anyone else catch them? I usually have very little patience for these let's-pat-ourselves-on-the-backathons, but I ended up watching the GGs this time around, partly because this meant a reprieve from my excel spreadsheet. In the end, I have to say I rather enjoyed it, and even considered live-blogging. Didn't in the end, because a) nobody reads this and b) it would have meant getting up to get my laptop, and I'm lazy.

Just a couple of comments, then. First off, what the hell was Isaac Mizrahi up to? I can't decide whether I found his antics hysterical or borderline distasteful. Actually, this is all ex post: at the time I was cracking up. Anyway, he played the gay-designer card to the hilt: among other gems, he asked Eva Longoria about her feminine grooming regimen (though it appears she has lately been waxing eloquent (pun intended) on the orgasm-enhancing properties of a brazilian), more or less fondled Scarlett Johannsen's boobs, and looked down Terri Hatcher's cleavage and rifled through her handbag. Wonderfully juvenile and much funnier than the usual red-carpet cooing over the beautiful dresses.

Speaking of which, most of the women looked hideous. Drew Barrymore, for one, took the whole 'Globes' part of the evening much too literally, leaving her (presumably not golden, but definitely oversized) orbs to support themselves. It's called a bra, Drew. They sell them all over the place. And frankly, if you're doing the whole bra-less thing, what's the point of wearing something that comes all the way up to your neck? The other fashion trend of the evening appeared to be the return of the Empire waist. But the worst dress, by quite a margin, was Rachel Weisz's, which looked like someone decided to wrap her up in khadi raw silk and literally tie things up with a little bow. Giving her a run for her money was Gwyneth Paltrow, who looked like she was channeling a costume for an amateur production of the Ugly Duckling.

The awards themselves were mercifully short (unlike the stupid Oscars where the technical awards go on and on) and I was glad Brokeback Mountain won best Picture and Director, because I loved it. Sadly, playing gay, which is allegedly supposed to be a surefire way to rake the awards in, didn't swing it for Heath Ledger, because, I guess, Capote was way, way gayer. I haven't seen Capote, but I thought Heath Ledger was magnificent in Brokeback. I haven't seen anyone draw out a performance from somewhere so far under the surface for quite some time.

Speaking of gay, though, given that three of the films which won awards (Capote, Brokeback Mountain, and Transmerica) had non-hetereosexual principal characters, and two of them concentrated on the sexuality.gender aspect of their lives, it was quite incredible that the 'g' word itself was the elephant in the room: we heard all about tortured romance, difficult circumstances, 'star-crossed love', and so on ad infinitum, but no mention of gayness. In some situations, it appears, we're still stuck with the Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name, though it may certainly be Rewarded At The Globes.


Blogger thalassa_mikra said...

Didn't see the Globes this year. Seems like I didn't miss much, although given your and other descriptions of Mizrahi's antics, I'm always up for gawking at "so bad it's really good".

The women looked hideous because they are so utterly overprocessed and overstyled. These grown women cannot even dress themselves.

It's sad, but I think we have a long way to go before we manage to get rid of euphemisms in describing gay romance in these films. Even though I thought the posters with two men embracing was pretty forthright and honest.

2:46 PM  

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