At the Golden Globes

by Bill grantham

The blogosphere—and others—just hate the golden globes, the fluffy, celebrity-
ewn awards show held each year by the Hollywood Foreign Press association
FPa), a small group of Los angeles–based journalists who hand out prizes each
nuary. It’s just one of a myriad of televised awards shows that exist in the United
ates to “celebrate” movies and television shows—the Oscars, the emmys (Daytime
d Primetime), the Screen actors guild, People’s Choice, Critics’ Choice, Black
tertainment Television, Nickelodeon Kids. . . . and it’s more or less the same as
of them, with stars, frocks, tears, kisses, hugs, speeches, waves, and golden gew-
ws on plinths, with the same more or less predictable television presentation: the cutaways from stage to audience, the swells of pomp-music, the your-film-here standard-issue montages, the flying graphics, the envelope please. (Dick Clark Productions, which produces the globes television show, does the same for The
american Music, academy of Country Music, and Country Television awards, so it
has the style down pat.) (download)