Ian Anderson 6 p.m., July 29
Join in The Big Screen's Live Golden Globes Blog Tomorrow Night
If I'm going to watch the poor man's Oscars, it might as well be on company time. Join me tomorrow night for The Big Screen's first live blog. (Expect more of the same on Oscar Sunday.) I'll be bivouacked at a secured location in University City watching with friends -- they get a better picture on their Zenith than I do my crystal set -- scouring the crowd in hope of a Mickey Rooney sighting.
The Globes haven't been the same since Meshulam Riklis bought trophy bride Pia "My Eyes Adore Ya'" Zadora a "New Star of the Year in a Motion Picture" booby prize in 1982. (Pia went on to be sexually assaulted by a garden hose in The Lonely Lady.) Come to think of it, there never has been much going for the Globes with the possible exception they serve liquor during the ceremony and it's been known to show in winners' acceptance speeches.
Life replicates art: Pia Zadora accepts an acting award in the indescribably delicious The Lonely Lady.
All awards ceremonies are worthless, even The Nobels. That's the Academy Awards for smart people. Even the once dependable (and equally inebriated) Independent Spirit Awards appear to be moving closer to abandoning art and taking up residence in the same safe, enchanted neighborhood where Oscar dwells. Art shouldn't compete and people who look upon these yearly self-congratulatory love fests as a reflection of quality should be planted in tree museums after having their television sets taken away from them.
Let's examine some of the Golden Globes past Best Drama nominees: Fala couldn't make it through Sunrise at Campobello and legend has it The Shoes Of The Fisherman was the reason Odor-Eaters were invented. Then there's Leslie Caron's Fanny, Streisand's Nuts, Captain Newman, M.D., La Bamba, Voyage of the Damned, Earthquake, Mary, Queen Of Scots...Stop the music! Earthquake?! Wasn't that a comedy? The Mark Robson "shake 'n bake" disaster film shot in the soffit-fascia loosening splendour of Sensurround? Isn't that with Chuck Heston and Marjoe? The one where Ava Gardner plays Lorne Green's daughter even though she had him by a few years? That Earthquake? Audience members who survived this disaster are the ones that deserve an award.
Who am I kidding? I own the DVD!
Winners either reflect the Academy's tastes, or worse, as exemplified by the following list of unsuitable Best Picture honorees: The Guns of Naverone, Anne Of The Thousand Days, Love Story (Ali McGraw also took home a Best Actress trophy!), The Turning Point (not the Dieterle) and so many more.
It doesn't get much better in the acting categories. Try and keep a straight face while reading this dishonor roll of past nominees: Marilyn Hassett (The Other Side Of The Mountain), George Hamilton (Love at First Bite), Deborah Raffin (Touched By Love), Dean Jones ($1,000,000 Duck), Martha Raye (Billy Rose's Jumbo), Pamela Tiffin (One, Two, Three), Ted Neely (Jesus Christ Superstar), Robert Blake (Electra Glide In Blue), Helen Hayes (Herbie Rides Again) and, of course, Lucy Ball for maiming audiences with Mame. Mitigating circumstances: they gave Jerry Lewis an acting nod, only it was for Boeing Boeing, and Marty has taken home 2 Globes to Oscar's 1. And as much as I worship Jackie Gleason, I'd like to drive a bus through his pathos-laden performance as Gigot.
When it comes to a steady flow of entertainment, Gleason acts as a Gigot spigot.
I'll hit The Big Screen when the Globes commence tomorrow night at 5 p.m. on NBC. Blog along with me, but keep it clean, okay? We'll work blue at the Swifty Lazar after party.
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