The Golden Globes are sloppy, drunk, better than the Oscars

Shame on Ben Affleck!

Good for Ben Affleck!

Nope. I’m not gonna do it. I will not complain about the Hollywood Foreign Press Association robbing Joaquin Phoenix of a Best Actor Award or snubbing the score to Cloud Atlas. I’m not gonna do it.

To bitch about snubs is to miss the larger, relevant utility behind “awards season” in the first place: GETTING PEOPLE TO THINK ABOUT MOVIES. In turn, it’s hoped (especially by the Harvey Weinsteins of the world) that the media attention and red carpet douche baggery will get you and your family to shell out $40 to see Amour, ruining a Saturday afternoon that was perfectly chipper before Michael Haneke came and sad-pissed all over it.

I say that about every Awards show: BAFTAs, SAGs, NY Critics Circle, etc. Yes. Even the Oscars, whose ceremonies have been bloated, self-indulgent drivel for some time now. There’s nothing like the sight of a sketchy organization of old white men flail its collective arms to and fro as it struggles to don a flat brim while patting itself on the back. Thanks again, James Franco.

Christ, when was the last solid Oscars ceremony anyway? Hugh Jackman from four years ago? Jon Stewart from five? When they’re not tanking hard with “mirth at gunpoint” humor, they’re wildly inconsistent with praise: No Best Director nod for Kathryn Bigelow? No recognition at all for Jafar Panahi’s This is Not a Film? And for shit’s sake, you could’ve thrown it in Best Foreign OR Best Documentary Feature. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is so lost inside its own ass, drunk off its $7 jug of Cataracts Wine that I’d only care about them if Oscar himself stumbled into my apartment and passed out on the couch, gurgling up little puke bubbles of cheap Shiraz. Youalll know aaahm ssstill classy yeah? Think of the Panahis and the Bigelows as just the latest turds in AMPAS’ masturbatory toilet bowl.

Yes, that was an intentionally disgusting metaphor.

And yet, despite the terrible writing and disappointing ratings, we still regard the Oscars as far and away the more respectable ceremony. The Globes are like Oscar’s fun but kinda chubby twin sisters. Well maybe it was the drunk goggles, but they were looking damn good last night.

Yes, that was an intentional reference to Tina Fey.

The Globes are great in all the ways the Oscars are stuffy because they don’t take anything seriously. Everyone’s a little tipsy, actors can be candid with each other (even a little mean) — they even throw in some television shit just to switch things up. Just ask last night’s co-hosts, Fey and Amy Poehler. Canoodling with George Clooney, fake mustaches, taking jabs at Taylor Swift’s sex life.

And not to take anything away from a surprisingly solid hosting job but… remind me again why everyone was up in arms about GERVAIS-GATE 2011? Yeah, some of his cracks were a little mean-spirited and would’ve been more justified at the Oscars, where “colleagues” heap minute-long monologues of praise on nominees — not that Gervais would ever be invited to host. Ever. But were we seriously up in arms over a solid Tim Allen joke? Come on. The man’s the spokesperson for Campbell’s and got busted for selling coke in Michigan. (Obligatory mug shot) I’ll take an overly long Kristen Wiig/Will Farrell bit over Kevin Kline telling me how “brave” Alan Arkin’s five minutes in Argo were 10 times outta 10. 

Much Twitter biznass has been made over Tommyleejonesface and whether or not Jodie Foster actually admitted she’s gay. To the former, Sacha Baron Cohen’s mockery of the swarmy, drunken self-fellating that prompted Jones’ face coma was A. awesome and B. spot on.

As for Ms. Foster’s speech, aren’t we all kinda missing her point? About how celebrity sometimes has a lot of bullshit strings attached, especially for those who don’t want E! and Access Hollywood live-tweeting about their romantic McDonalds drive-thru or adoption snaffu. America’s long-standing obsession with fame (Christ, even I’m doing it right now), with people who couldn’t give two shits about that other 99% makes no sense. Jodie Foster wasn’t interested in talking about a new fragrance or a reality show, and certainly not her sexuality. Yet BuzzFeed “writers” are up in arms over how like, weird her speech was. Ya think maybe it’s because she’s making fun of the vapid shit you hate yet can’t stop following?

Jodie Foster’s acceptance speech for the Cecile B DeMille Award lent a jarring amount of honesty to what many consider the laughingstock of awards season. The reality is you’d have to go back to Charlie Chaplin’s Honorary Oscar to find the same from the latter.

That was 1971.