The geniuses who directed last night’s Critics Choice Awards show refused to project video of the announcers and recipients on two monster-sized screens that hung above the stage. They chose instead to show this footage on four or five smaller monitors in the right rear of the seating area, which were easily viewable by only a portion of the audience. I was sitting so far back in the loser section (table #98) that Amy Schumer looked with a little white push pin with blond hair, and you know what happens? You don’t even listen after a while because the winners are over a football field away and you can’t even see their faces much less expressions, and so you wind up saying “fuck it” and just tweeting about stuff.
Deadline‘s Pete Hammond, Variety/Gold Derby‘s Tom O’Neil and The Hollywood Reporter‘s Scott Feinberg sat way up front and good for them, but table #98 was shit. Every person who sat at that table knew in their heart of hearts they’d been labelled as a temporary second- or third-stringer by the BFCA guys, but we did our best to ignore this. At least in conversation among ourselves. In my own private realm I felt humiliated and shat upon, but I could have rolled with the experience if the BFCA had only shown the faces on the two super-sized screens. But they couldn’t be bothered.