So Brokeback Mountain and Walk the Line won most of the awards, Mary-Louise Parker beat out all the Desperate Housewives for Best Actress, Anthony Hopkins was properly toasted as the year’s recipient for the Cecil B. DeMille lifetime achievement award, etc., etc. But for most of America, the Golden Globes—a show that serves primarily as a goofy indicator to the later Academy Awards; the cumulative picks of less than 100 journalists from the Hollywood Foreign Press Association— really boils down to one more opportune gawk fest. That said, the night truly belongs to the media buzzards, provided with easy fodder for the next few months.
Here’s what they had to work with. Below, highlights and low points from last night’s event.
Saddest facial growth, bloated-ego category: Leonardo DiCaprio. Although we thought about giving this to Johnny Depp and that stupid devil goatee he loves to cultivate just in time for awards shows.
“But I love my sexy neck beard” recipients: Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Colin Firth.
Best dressed: Debra Messing, in a black-and-white flowered gown; Charlize Theron, in a black lace number by John Galliano from Dior; Reese Witherspoon in a Chanel dress with a sequined upper bodice and poufy skirt; and we’re loathe to admit, Gwyneth Paltrow, in a cream, empire-waisted dress with puffy sleeves. Although we have the freedom to retract that statement, if the pregnant Paltrow names this second kid after a vegetable.
“Why has my stylist forsaken me?” award: Rachel Weisz. There should be little work involved in prettifying an already gorgeous woman for the Globes.
Most uncomfortable moment that we relished: Chris Rock’s mention of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. “It’s Martin Luther King’s birthday. I want everybody to relax, you only have to be nice to black people for two more hours, OK?”
Actor People magazine will award best dressed for wearing what amounts to a completely nondescript black tuxedo again: George “I have higher-minded goals than all the high-quality ass I’m hittin’ ” Clooney. What he should really be given an award for: Not doing that annoying maneuver, circa ER, where he looks down, then looks up through his eyelashes while cocking his head to the side.
What we all actually contemplate while watching Grey’s Anatomy instead of Sandra Oh’s Globe-winning performance: How did perma-geek Patrick Dempsey turn hot, and why didn’t that happen to us when we left high school?
The jigglies: What happened to Drew Barrymore’s bra? Why are her boobs hanging out around her ankles? She announced something, but I forget what. Those breasts were attacking me, like 3-D Godzilla-style, from the screen.
The Lindsey Lohan, “Where are your arms?” award: Renee Zellweger and Natalie Portman, for withering away before our very eyes.
Most awesomely blatant L’Oreal promotion: Scarlett Johannson. Though Scar Jo won no award, the camera didn’t seem to mind, panning to her an unreal number of times. Not that this has anything to do with the fact that Johannson is the new face of L’Oreal, one of the Globe’s corporate sponsors, or that her L’Oreal commercial played during the break. We’re just saying.
Predictably easy targets for worst-dressed: Mariah Carey, Pamela Anderson, Melanie Griffith.
Who should really win worst-dressed: the Golden Globes itself. Yes, yes, we all realize this is the more budget Oscars. But with sponsors like Lexus, Target, and the aforementioned L’Oreal, why are the Golden Globes stuck with those ’80s Price is Right graphics? What is that, the stage from Star Search Junior? Couldn’t they scrimp on the free chicken dinner or whatever vegan hamster pellets they were feeding Joaquin, and cough up a few more bucks on that script? Check out some of these “stay tuned” gems: “All these stars are here to see and be seen, and they’re about to see tomorrow’s headlines made tonight!” “No wonder this is the hottest ticket in town!” “The action in the ballroom is nonstop!”
Ditty that will greet us again in hell: The opening song, to the tune of Pussycat Dolls’ hit single “Don’t Cha”—
“Don’t you think that Jaime looks hot tonight? Don’t you think that Reese has a shot tonight? Don’t cha? Don’t cha?”
“Gwyneth’s a favorite—a favorite! George could win three—he could win three! Hannibal Lecter is licking his lips to taste the Cecil B.!”…
“Don’t you dig the bling on the robes tonight? Don’t you want to come to the Globes tonight? Don’t cha? Don’t CHA!”