January 17, 2006

The Golden Globes

Is there anything more tedious than awards shows? A group of narcissistic performers get together to feed each others' egos. Actors hug and proclaim the skills of their fellow thespians, all the time believing they are far better performers. Think, an actor is someone who is acclaimed for saying lines written by another, while a director tells them how to say those lines, and where they should stand when they say them. Let us face it, there are only a few actors or actresses so good that we forget who they are in their roles. Tom Hanks is one. Let us not forget Spencer Tracy. Joan Crawford maybe.

Even more fatuous than the awards is the insipid coverage. We are bombarded whith pre-award sniping about the clothing and hairstyles of the attendees. Who cares? The post party coverage is even worse. We are regaled on the morning shows about the myriad parties attended by the celebrities. So what, I can drink all night too. A drunk is a drunk, no matter how nice they are dressed.

And just why do we care that Paris Hilton was at the party? Her fame is directly tied to her wealth, a mere chance meeting of sperm and egg. Her best acting was the home porn movie she shot.

The whole environment of these award shows, whether we are discussing the Emmys, the Golden Globes, the Academy Awards, or any of the weekly Country Music award shows reminds me of the Roman Emperor Nero. "WTF", you ask? Nero, as you remember is famous for "fiddling" while Rome burnt.

Nero fancied himself quite the artist. He performed in plays, he sang, he dabbled in all of the fine arts. He developed quite an entourage that followed him from performance to performance. These sycophants would cheer and clap each time the Emperor graced the audience with his skills. Each group had its own peculiar chant or clap for Nero. One of the most famous was called the "bees" who as a group were said to clap so fast the sound was like that of a swarm of angry bees. Historians differ on whether Nero had any skills or not (depending on how close to his reign they wrote). He was the Heath Ledger of his day. I imagine there are at least a score of Prima Donnas in Hollywood would would love to have a group of "bees" follow him or her to every public appearance. Imagine the cheers and applause that would accompany each botox injected cheek-kissy and fake hug as these "artists" meet on the red carpet.

Nero would fit right in with the award shows that give accolades to the flavor of the day. Only time will tell if gay cowboys are the rage, or just the politically popular choice for awards. For me, the true worth a movie is in the cash register tape. A good movie will have a good box office. People want to see good movies. They stay away from bad ones. There are always exceptions like Cinderella Man. It bombed at the box office, but was actually quite good. Some movies get a large draw based on the actor in the movie -- the last Mad Max movie really sucked.

In the end, I exercise my rights. I refuse to watch the award shows. Ain't choice grand?

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