It was the cat. It’s always been the cat. The cat had to be in Dylan’s lap and looking at the lens.
Login with Patreon to view this post
…if I was able to write something? I can’t tap anything out because I’m driving and it’s dark out. Later this evening…Jeff Beck sleeps.
On 1.10.16, four lads at a Golden Globes after-party in Century City — (l. to r.) Roger Durling, Deadline’s Pete Hammond, myself, Kris Tapley. 2016 was the last semi-normal year before the woke plague began to descend.
11:18 pm: Steven Spielberg‘s The Fabelmans has won the Golden Globe award for Best Motion Picture Drama. It’s a reasonably good film, but it doesn’t radiate what I would call exceptional jazz and it doesn’t knock the ball out of the park….it really doesn’t. But congrats to all.
10:59 pm: Best Dramatic Actor TV series winner Kevin Costner (Yellowstone) can’t attend the ceremony because he’s “sheltering in place” in Santa Barbara (technically Carpinteria). Very funny, but I’m about done. It’s 11:04 pm….Jesus.
Thank God that the Golden Globe award for Best Screenplay has gone to Martin McDonagh and his Banshees of Inisherin script and not to…well, you know…thank God in heaven!
HFPA to Tomris Laffly: “Please forgive us, Tomris! Give us another chance…puhleeze?”
🎉 Congratulations on your WIN for Best Motion Picture – Non-English Language, Argentina, 1985! #GoldenGlobes pic.twitter.com/mqaFxJhqQK
— Golden Globe Awards (@goldenglobes) January 11, 2023
The underlying reason, I suspect, is that NBC felt that they needed to be symbolically demoted because of the wokester condemnation of the HFPA over their previous (but since corrected) failures in the realm of DEI and specifically Black journalist membership.
By any fair and reasonable standard the HFPA has bent over backwards to reform itself, but still the Tomris Laffly Brigade wants this long-questionable org and its once-valued awards show (at least in terms of ratings) suffocated to death.
Given how the Golden Globes used to fuel-inject award season hype and especially considering that general award-season fervor is currently withering on the vine given the near-total absence of interest (much less enthusiasm) on the part of literally everyone outside the miniscule, industry-and-media-centric award season community (exacerbated further by the NSFC’s head-scratchy celebration of Aftersun’s Charlotte Wells), doesn’t it make sense to ease up and let bygones be bygones and try to return to the mindset of pre-woke-terror Hollywood (i.e., 2016 and before)?
Here’s an excellent, hand–wringing, hair–pulling piece on this topic from Awards Daily Sasha Stone:
To my great surprise and delight, Christy Hall‘s Daddio, which I was remiss in not seeing during last year’s Telluride...
More »7:45 pm: Okay, the initial light-hearted section (repartee, wedding, hospital, afterlife Joey Pants, healthy diet) was enjoyable, but Jesus, when...
More »It took me a full month to see Wes Ball and Josh Friedman‘s Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes...
More »The Kamala surge is, I believe, mainly about two things — (a) people feeling lit up or joyful about being...
More »Unless Part Two of Kevin Costner‘s Horizon (Warner Bros., 8.16) somehow improves upon the sluggish initial installment and delivers something...
More »For me, A Dangerous Method (2011) is David Cronenberg‘s tastiest and wickedest film — intense, sexually upfront and occasionally arousing...
More »