Seriously folks, these people are into themselves big-time. Read this but with a dose of Zofran or Nausetrol at the ready.
“Ryan Gosling, like all of the nicest people, is Canadian, and Dev Patel was born in Kenya, raised in London, and is here playing an Indian raised in Tasmania. So Hollywood is crawling with outsiders and foreigners. And if we kick them all out you’ll have nothing to watch but football and mixed martial arts, which are not the arts.”
I must apologize for commenting on last night’s Golden Globe Awards since I did not watch any part of it. There were far more important things to do than watch the most pretentious, self-congratulating, talented but enormously ignorant people lecture America for not according them all the adulation they so richly deserve…like straightening out one’s sock drawer!
I especially apologize for not tuning in to hear “Dame Streep” hold forth with an impassioned plea to us ordinary folk to pay appropriate homage to her and her colleagues of the “arts” AND APPRECIATE ALL THEY DO FOR US.
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“And after all, we’re all from Africa originally, you know. We’re all Berliners; we’re all Africans, really.”
Yes. That Meryl Streep.
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Every day it becomes more and more inviting to “watch nothing but football and mixed martial arts…” than the propaganda billed as art that these people like Meryl Streep are putting out. (Although, with the Colin Kaepernick childish antics, I’m not sure that “football” offers an acceptable alternative to the Streep-type “arts anymore.)
From all accounts, it was a signature event Sunday night. If you can suppress your gag reflex, you might want to read the introduction of Ms. Streep by somebody named “Viola Davis”, no doubt a very famous and accomplished actor. An excerpt:
“And as she continues to stare you realize that she sees you. And like a high-powered scanning machine she’s recording you. She is an observer and a thief. She waits to share what she has stolen on that sacred place, which is the screen. She makes the most heroic characters vulnerable, the most known familiar, the most despised relatable. Dame Streep. Her artistry reminds us of the impact of what it means to be an artist, which is to make us feel less alone. I can only imagine where you go, Meryl, when you disappear into a character. I imagine that you’re in them, patiently waiting, using yourself as a conduit, encouraging them, coaxing them to release all their mess, expose, to live. You are a muse.
Your impact encouraged me to stay in the line.
Dame Streep, I see you. I see you. And you know all those rainy days we spent on the set of “Doubt”? Every day my husband would call me at night and say, “Did you tell her how much she means to you?”
And I said, “No, I can’t say anything, Julius, I’m just nervous. All I do is stare at her all the time.”
He said, “Well, you need to say something. You’ve been waiting all your life to work with this woman. Say something.”
I said, “Julius, I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“O.K. you better do it tomorrow because when I get there I’m going to say something!”
I haven’t said anything. But I’m gonna say it now. You make me proud to be an artist. You make me feel that what I have in me, my body, my face, my age, is enough. You encapsulate that great Émile Zola quote that if you ask me as an artist what I came into this world to do, I, an artist, would say, I came to live out loud.
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But “Dame” Streep and “Viola” were not the only highlights of the evening apparently. Just a hint of what you missed if you were not one of the ‘billions’ of Golden Globe viewers:
“…the fashion/film complex is alive and well and serving its prime purpose: marketing a moment of fantasy and escape. Kerry Washington did her job by not only introducing her gold-lace-and-rhinestone dress as by Dolce & Gabbana but by announcing that it was their special couture line and had never appeared on a red carpet before. Never, in other words, been seen by the general public’s eyes. Sprinkle a little of that made-to-order diamond dust on all of us.”
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WOW! What an evening!
