I feel so lost today.
Normally, the day after the Golden Globes is a joyous day for me. So many websites to peruse, so many gowns and tuxedos to get catty over, so many fond memories of red carpet missteps (did Isaac Mizrahi just touch Scarlett Johansson’s boobs?), awkward on stage antics (Christine Lahti was where?) and Elizabeth Taylor hopped up on God knows what to reminisce over.
But noooooo. They took that all away from me.
Who’s they? Well, the stupid studio chiefs, I suppose. Can’t really blame the writers for wanting their deserved piece of the pie. But secretly, if I were strapped to that lie detector machine from Fox’s The Moment of Truth (can’t wait to watch that train wreck), I’d probably reveal anger at the writers, too. My resentment, apparently, has crossed the picket line.
And it’s getting dire.
If missing out on the Golden Globes is like missing out on the AFC Championship Game (speaking of which: the Patriots vs. the . . .Chargers? way to step it up, Colts), missing out on the Oscars (which is becoming more of a real possibility with each passing day) will be like missing out on the Super Bowl.
Studio chiefs, writers: Do whatever it takes. Grab Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton, Jesse Jackson, Rosie O’Donnell—whomever. Lock yourselves in a room and work this shit out. It’s getting personal now.
Oh, as for the actual awards? Atonement’s big win proves that the Best Picture race is on. I’d always suspected that No Country For Old Men (which had been cleaning up most of the pre-Oscar awards) was too highbrow, too dark, too chillingly cold-blooded for the Oscars. The sweeping, gorgeous Atonement is much more their typical fare. So yeah, it’s waaay early for my final prediction, but Atonement is looking like the real deal right now.
It's going to be one hell of a press conference.
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