The prospect of an every-Friday column is a tad tricky considering the immediacy of TV criticism. Last week I was all excited to dissect Netflix’s worthy addition to the true-crime canon in “Making a Murderer” — false testimonies, corrupt public defenders, pierced vials of blood! — but have found the think-piece trail is already running cold on that one, with critics weighing in on everything from the damning evidence omitted to the science of coerced, behind-closed-doors confessions. So now, given the fact I’m catching up on winter shows and awaiting spring premieres, I feel I’m left with no option but to walk into the fire and analyze that staged trainwreck I watched Sunday night on NBC. I’m going to discuss the Golden Globes.
May God help us all.
There’s one joke about Hollywood’s most transparently trashy show that seems to surface on Twitter every year that, in my opinion, gets to the ludicrousness of the proceedings: If an alien’s sole understanding of Earth was this, they would likely kill us. That’s not to say I look down on those who watch celebrities congratulate each other while ice caps melt and terrorism persists; I’m right there with you every January in what has become a family tradition, sitting on the couch between my sisters as we brace for the less elegant cousin of the Academy Awards.
This year, I was actually excited for the return of Ricky Gervais, a deadpan host who understands the show’s inherent stupidity and — in that sense — is us at home. He’s a brazen reminder that despite the Globes’ aura of self-importance, the recipients of those 5.5-pound statuettes are chosen by a famously [bizarre](http://www.vulture.com/2015/01/who-exactly-picks-the-golden-globes-winners.html) collection of journalists called the Hollywood Foreign Press Association. “The Revenant” can beat “Spotlight,” the rightful Oscar front-runner; “Mozart in the Jungle” can beat “Transparent,” the most poignant show on TV; Lady Gaga, a pop star who does her darndest on the underwhelming “American Horror Story: Hotel,” can somehow be deemed superior to Kirsten Dunst’s career-defining work on “Fargo.”
But in Gervais, what used to be a refreshingly honest, sizzling, cynical performance has become lazy and predictable, with the Brit writing jokes more suitable for pre-pubescent boys (“Transparent’s” Jeffrey Tambor having “big balls,” in particular, was a low point). It’s not all his fault, of course; if Gervais is representative of us viewers, then his exasperated performance mirrors our reaction to a show that refuses to abandon its throw-a-bunch-of-shit-at-the-wall-and-hope-something-sticks formula. While The Tony’s — bar-none the best awards show — infuses its telecast with clever bits and self-effacing musical numbers, the Globes sticks to the same boring schtick every year, right down to that brassy, on-hold-esque theme music. The bulk of jokes come in the category introductions, and this year those were, like Gervais, aggressively dull. The point of Will Ferrell and Mark Wahlberg’s tired bit seemed to be that they were wearing gaudy 2016 glasses, and Jonah Hill wore a silly bear mask a la “The Revenant.” Even Amy Schumer and Jennifer Lawrence, an almost too-perfect pairing of hilarious women, seemed to be having way more fun joking about their celebrity friendship than we did watching it.
Like always, the night’s best moments came in random flashes of brilliance, and there were two standouts this year. One was from “Master of None’s” Aziz Ansari, who held up an elaborate prop book that read “Losing to Jeffrey Tambor With Dignity,” a wonderful on-the-nose joke regardless of the fact that “Mozart’s” Gael García Bernal won. The other was from Gervais himself when he confronted Mel Gibson — under that annoyingly overactive network censor — about the “sugar tits” comment he drunkenly made to a female police officer in 2006. It was great TV, a face-to-face confrontation we’re rarely afforded with powerful men who get off scot-free for the heinous things they say and do.
I would suggest a few ways in which those moments of bliss more consistent across the telecast, but hit-or-miss is what people want. Ratings for the Globes were higher this year than the last time Gervais hosted in 2012, and there was plenty of chatter Monday morning about minor flubs like Quentin Tarantino’s use of the word “ghetto”and Leonardo Dicaprio making a funny face as Lady Gaga surprised him en route to the stage.
It all boils down to a basic strategy that we the audience have validated: If you put a bunch of celebrities in a room, give them alcohol and watch what happens, people will tune in. Even as the show seemed to be past the point of no return, my family and I kept watching because it’s an Event with a capital E, and — well — is on TV.
I’m sure next year we’ll all do the exact same thing and end up disappointed, yet again. It’s what we ask for.