After every major awards show, year after year, the same thought is on everyone’s mind: “Good for this or that film (or this or that creative player) for winning — the voters have spoken. But my God, the final decisions in some respects were so clueless, so behind-the-curve, so old-farty, so off-on-their-own-island.”
I know that Children of Men, United 93, Paul Greengrass, The Lives of Others, Volver and Penelope Cruz (to name but a few) are probably going to get the shaft on Oscar nomination day (1.23), and that’s okay — not the end of the world. It’s just that they could all use the extra attention that nominations always bestow. And it just doesn’t feel right.
I have a theoretical equation in mind. How much more on-target would the Oscar show be if, say, the blue-hairs who haven’t really been in the game for the last 15 or 20 or 30 years had, let’s say, half a vote, and the active members — people caught up in the rough-and-tumble of the present tense, people half-familiar with cyber-space, etc. — kept their full votes?
Can’t happen, won’t happen….but the unhip, out-of-touch element is definitely sapping the vitality of the enterprise. Deadwood almost always gets purged in other groups and organizations — why not the Academy?

The Golden Globes awards confirmed two things: (a) there will be no sweeping victory by anyone or anything come Oscar night, and (b) the Globes are getting a bit staid and tidy — almost Oscarish in their decorum. Once upon an ass-time the Globes were regarded as a kind of alcoholic, loosey-goosey fuck-all thing, but there was almost no snap or rudeness or exhilaration in any of it. No real verve, raunch…no extraordinary pocket-drop eloquence… the pulse refused to race or even swerve. The winners, the speeches and the patter were almost all mid-tempo; ditto the parties.

The stuffed-shirt Oscars are going to be even more so, of course. (If only Sarah Silverman was set to host the show along with the Spirits!) The idea of getting out of town tomorrow night and starting in with the Sundance Film Festival , which I’ve done almost no preparation for, suddenly feels like some kind of fresh-water antidote. Clean out the detritus, bring in the ’07….up and away.
The best part of my evening was sitting in a plush Beverly Hilton hotel room as I watched the show live-time, and then attending the Paramount after-party. Lots of warmth, affection and contentment — only one discordant note involving a big-name actor and a big-time producer that I’m not going to relay in detail, but seemed indicative of an extremely strange bend in the personality of the actor.
The only bolt moment for me was when Babel took the Best Drama trophy — deserved, no question, but a surprise because the spirit voices were constantly saying Departed, Departed, Departed over the last few days. (Maybe I need to get down with different spirits.)

Paramount Pictures chairman/CEO Brad Grey, Warren Beatty

If it hadn’t been for the “balls” motif in two speeches — Sacha Baron Cohen‘s acceptance and Tom Hanks‘ tribute to Warren Beatty — and the occasional flubs (Eddie Murphy almost forgetting DreamWorks topper Stacey Snider‘s name, Jamie Foxx relaying the outdated information that Dreamgirls was playing on 800 screens), I would have been bored silly.
After the Paramount party the coolest place to be was the Beverly Hilton lobby. It was the nexus that everyone passed through on their way to and from the various soirees — passing along info on where they’d been, were going, how crowded the last bash was, etc. Plus there was no music to get in the way of conversation, and no-drink-in-the-hand felt like the right thing.
The Little Miss Sunshine team captains — co-directors Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris, screenwriter Michael Arndt — were lobby-hanging when I happened to walk by. Easy-time vibes all around. (I firmly believe that the Best Picture Oscar race is between LMS, The Departed and maybe The Queen.) We laughed about the pork-pie hat item I wrote a few days ago, etc.

Exterior of the Paramount after-party

I don’t know that Dreamgirls has a new lease on life exactly, but I presume last night’s Best Motion Picture, Musical or Comedy win will give it a shot at the box-office, and that’s good. (Babel, also, will presumably benefit from its win in the Drama category.) As one player was heard to say, “If Dreamgirls hadn’t won last night, we would have been fucked…the wolves would have all ganged up on the gazelle…snarling neck holds, But that didn’t happen, thank God.”
By the way: before the show started I saw a SWAT guy on the roof of the Beverly Hilton with what looked like a high-powered rifle with a scope.

A respectful nod to Hollywood Wiretap‘s Pete Hammond for making nearly all the right Golden Globe calls last Thursday, including a Babel win in the Best Motion Picture, Drama category, which surprised me: “A somewhat shaky and timid consensus for the Globes seems to call for a Babel Drama win and Dreamgirls Comedy or Musical win,” he wrote, “with Martin Scorsese taking Director and Helen Mirren, Meryl Streep, Sacha Baron Cohen and Jennifer Hudson certain to win acting awards.” He also called the Forest Whitaker and Clint Eastwood/Letters From Iwo Jima wins.

A Scott Bowles/USA Today theory by way of Entertainment Weekly‘s Dave Karger — Academy voters may be starting to get sick of the big winners thus far — doesn’t seem to actually apply except in the case of Forest Whitaker, last night’s Golden Globe Best Actor champ. The notion that IVenus contender Peter O’Toole‘s late surge could theoretically unseat him is given some weight. But Helen Mirren and Martin Scorsese (if you don’t know their categories by now…) are about as locked as they could possibly be.

Babel wins the Golden Globe for Best Motion Picture, Drama!! Shocker! First shocker of the night! Didn’t see this coming, frankly. Was this just me? I don’t think so. This will provide, hopefuly, a big shot in the arm for ticket sales. Hooray for the team, hooray for Alejandro.

Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Motion Picture, Drama goes to Forest Whitaker in The Last King of Scotland. Whitaker goes “wow” two or three times. Says he’s “really happy to be included in the company of Will Smith and Leonardo DiCaprio,” thanks to his children, God, his ancestors, Fox Searchlight, Peter Rice, Nancy Utley, Kevin Williamson, etc.
The show is nearly at three hours and is obviously going to last longer than that. Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger is next, presenting the Best Motion Picture, Drama award to The Departed…right?
Comment about the show: “There used to be a drinkier atmosphere….theres no more ring-a-ding. Look at the tables…they’re half-empty. Everybody’s looking to get out of there.”

Phillip Seymour Hoffman presenting the Golden Globe for Best Actress in a Motion Picture, Drama, and the award goes to Helen Mirren in The Queen.

The Golden Globe for Best TV Series, Drama goes to Grey’s Anatomy.

The Golden Globe for Best Comedy/Musical of the year goes to Dreamgirls….not much of a shocker. The film has a new lease on life…sort of. I mean, it may get a bump at the box-office, which it kind of needs. I still say the Oscar thing is pretty much settled as far as Dreamgirls not getting the Best Picture Oscar. There have been no big surprises tonight…nothing ballsy except for the mention of testicles by Tom Hanks and Sacha Baron Cohen.

Borat‘s Sacha Baron Cohen wins for Best Comedy/Musical Performance by an Actor! He tells an extended joke about costar Kenneth Davitian, the naked wrestling fat guy. Cohen riffs on “the anus and testicles of my costar…when I saw your two wrinkled Golden Globes on my chin, I thought to myself, I’d better win a bloody award for this.” Also: “Thank you to every American who has not sued me so far…thank you.”

Steven Spielberg presenting the Golden Globe for Best Director of a Motion Picture, and it’s gotta be Marty…right? Martin Scorsese wins! Comments: “Thank you, Hollywood Foreign Press….I’m gonna talk a little bit faster than I normally do. (He thanks all the producers, the agent/manager reps, William Monahan, Thelma Schoonmaker…the original film….Leo, Jack, Mark Wahlberg, Marty Sheen, Alec Baldwin.) “I wanted to make an old Warner Bros. movie like Angels with Dirty Faces — we wound up making Devils with Dirty Faces.”

Tom Hanks presenting the Cecil B. DeMille award (i.e., life achievement) to Warren Beatty. Hanks is fine, but why didn’t Nicholson present this award? “What balls this man has! What balls has Warren Beatty!” (Will the network bleep out “balls”) Hanks adds, sensing the vibe, “By balls, I mean artistic vision.” The flim clips, of course…Bonnie and Clyde, Splendor in the Grass, Shampoo, Heaven Can Wait, Reds, Bugsy, Dick Tracy, Bulworth. Hanks asks the ladies in the room who’ve succumbed to Warren’s charms to raise their hands. (Moderately funny.) We all want to exude his class, charisma and balls.
Beatty takes the stage: “Truth is, I haven’t made an awful lot of movies. Somebody said about me that every single movie I made from the beginning was a comeback. Something like this is enough to make me want to go out and make another movie. I…I just don’t know what to think. Forget about Hanks…I’ve got bottles of moisturizer older than Hanks.” He chides Eastwood and Nicholson for not taking it easier, for making him feel inactive, insubstantial, etc. “I think what I have to do is say something tonight that will scare the hell out of all of us — of course I’m going to make another movie.
“That first award I got in 1962…that was 45 years ago. He says he wouldn’t mind being named the most promising newcomer…again. Thank you, Hollywood Foreign Press. Annette…thank you for our life together, and thank you for making me feel, always, like the most promising newcomer.”