Celebrity Preview --Though this Globes tidbit often gets lost in the celebrity bounty that is the program, every year the show throws a bone to offspring of awards-show mainstays. Little Eastwoods and Nicholsons and Costners. Pint-sized Derns and Shatners and Carradines. These stars-in-training, always eye-catching, busy themselves during the broadcast by handing prizes to winners and making sure they exit smartly, because left to their own devices, many will wander off in the wrong direction. This year's Miss Golden Globe was to be Rumer Willis, the daughter of Demi Moore and Bruce Willis. Dreams of her own Moonlighting or Striptease fade to black.
Accolade-o-meter in Overdrive --If not for awards-show tributes, how would our stars know they are loved? Without a 27-minute devotional set to music and accompanied by a grandiose, career-spanning video montage, would they know? This year, the Globes were to honor the oft-neglected Steven Spielberg. We hope he'll be OK.
Acceptance speeches --You never really know the value of a director until you see actors trying to play "authentically surprised" upon receipt of an award that they happen to have a speech for in their breast pocket/sparkly pocketbook. The hand-fluttering, gasping and tearing up, the running of the hands through the hair, the ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygod. The shout-outs to God, the beautiful wife and the troops. The winners will just have to double up on meandering displays of gratitude for the Oscars.
Parasites --In the Darwinian food chain that is Hollywood, there are organisms that feast for days from one full-length awards show. In a non-strike year, E! and Entertainment Tonight would have already been reporting for weeks, as starlets browse gowns, consider the philosophical implications of an updo versus a down and finagle loaner bling from publicity-hungry jewelers.
And that's only pre-show coverage.
Afterward, the feeding frenzy includes entire specials where C-listers and climbing makeup critics deconstruct the looks with an attention-to-detail matched only by its bitchiness.
So have mercy, striking writers. Please, please resolve your business by Academy Awards time. We'll thank you. Rumer Willis will thank you. And Steven Spielberg just might remember you in a meandering speech of gratitude.
jill.rosen@baltsun.com
