I'll Let St. Patrick and St. Michael Do My Talking For Me!

The Golden Globes happened very quickly last night, and though it featured some lovely justice (yay Tina Fey, Javier Bardem and the Coens for their writing!), it also had some real headscratchers. Atonement as best dramatic picture? Over No Country For Old Men? Not only is that a very peculiar choice (possibly caused by a split in the vote between the 82 members of the HFPA, as mentioned elsewhere by Anya-from-Buffy fan swsa), but its win (and that of Extras and Longford) means that tomorrow's newspapers will be filled with "Brits triumph at Golden Globes!" Quick drinking game; down a bottle of Old Cliche's 50-Year Old Rum for every article that has the phrase, "The Golden Globes, long considered a barometer of which movies will be successful at the Oscars..." or some derivative. If you went through all of the papers, you would die from alcohol poisoning. The triumphalism of the UK press after a big American award ceremony always strikes me as hypocritical. While happy to paint Americans as knuckle-dragging galoots, the UK press gets all, "Look! The Americans noticed us!" when someone British wins something more prestigious than Best Sound Effects Editing.

However, the biggest shock of the night (for me and a bunch of other 30 Rock fans) was David Duchovny getting best comedic actor instead of the mighty Alec Baldwin. I honestly thought that anyone involved with the creation of The House of D was ineligible for any award ever again. Isn't there a rule? That movie stained our TV, it was so bad. Well, so wonderfully bad. As mentioned in the Worst Movies post I made recently, a truly bad movie is a thing of joy forever, and The House of D is right up there, what with the practically seismic tonal shifts, mawkish sentimentality, and lowest-common-denominator intentional humour (the best laughs are to be had when the film is trying to be serious). It is required viewing, even if only to try to figure out what was going on with Robin Williams' teeth. Or Duchovny casting his real-life wife as his onscreen mother. That's not creepy at all. (!)

Actually, I can't really hate on Duchovny. I always thought he was a hugely likeable actor, especially on The X-Files, and I know that Canyon was a BIG fan way back when. Plus, no one who was that great on The Larry Sanders Show can be hated. Besides, it's not really about him. Quick admission; I have yet to watch Californication (Canyon has watched it and thought it was passable), but my main beef is how anyone can win in the same year that Alec Baldwin performed his Redd Foxx impression. That alone was justification enough for a win, and that is only one of the many incredible things he did this year.


It's as if Mystic River won the Academy Award for Best Picture in the year that Return of the King won everything. It had to win everything, coming at the end of three years of magnificent filmmaking, as if the Academy was awarding Peter Jackson awards for everything he had done to make that wonderful trilogy. That's how I feel about Baldwin this year. He is Aragorn to Duchovny's Faramir. Oh well. Sincerely, congratulations to David Duchovny. It pains me to see Baldwin go without for once, but I do like the fact that people who hate Duchovny (and there are many) will be horrified by this. Leave his Speedo-wearing ass alone!

Besides, at least he got to win over Ricky Gervais. Ugh! The man sickened me this morning, being interviewed on the ever-hapless Breakfast. After being asked if he was happy to have won (a typically stupid question from Bill Turnbull, the anti-Paxman), he said, "Yes, I am pleased to have won. For the third time. Ahem!" Later on he said, "I'm looking forward to putting it on my shelf. Next to my two other Golden Globes. And my two Emmys. And my seven Baftas." That's not a misquote. Then he bragged about getting his first lead role in a major Hollywood motion picture, and also writing a new film with Stephen Merchant. Nice to be living in the UK where the writers aren't on strike, eh? He must have realised what he'd said because he then stressed, over and over again, that he was working in England, okay? England! Not LA! Not a scab!

I didn't want to bring my massive antipathy towards Gervais onto this blog because it's more complicated than "Bleh Gervais", and seems to be borne of poisonous jellusy. He is obviously hugely talented, and The Office was wonderful, and he can make me laugh, for which I thank him, but this "shtick", that he's satirically arrogant, pretending to be a parody of self-absorbed celebrities, is not that funny a joke, especially when told with his obnoxious Brentian mannerisms. There doesn't appear to be any difference between Ricky Gervais and "Ricky Gervais, popular entertainer and commenter on celebrity hubris" any more.

I gather that Extras eventually becomes his Munchian wail of horror at the celebrity culture, but does he really have an antipathy towards it? Or is it just his fans and the public in general? I'm simultaneously fascinated and repulsed by him and his ego. It's very confusing. Anyway, congratulations on his win. Now can he please get a new act and knock that self-satisfied shit right off? Oh, and Mr. Gervais, you've only won one Golden Globe and four Baftas, but don't think that getting that wrong on purpose makes it a meta-comment. It's just... just so... Oooooh! Blood pressure! Rising!



ETA: New supercontributor Masticator has pointed out, in the comment section, that Gervais did indeed get seven Baftas, and yes, he is right. That'll teach me to look at the number of awards and not the number of years he won awards (What??!?! I was counting the number of times it had the word Won. Is that wrong? Well, okay, it's wrong, but is it WRONG?!?!?!). Good for him. Mind you, that makes him like the Walt Disney of the Baftas. Which makes me... makes me so... Anger! Increasing!