I watched the Golden Globes for three reasons: Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and the promise of nachos.
It’s a fun awards show to watch, and I always end up watching them for some reason (the TV and movie ones, at least) so I notice the difference made by the drinking that goes on during the show. There are too many awards to make up sketches and other funny bits, but Tina Fey and Amy Poehler killed it just by being the brilliant people they are. The can-women-be-funny debate is closed; it was actually sealed four months ago with the Emmys as Jimmy Kimmel wasn’t funny and in the opening bit all the women punching him in the face were.
But onto another highlight of last night that addressed an argument nobody should be having: Jodie Foster’s private life. She won the Cecil B. DeMille award for lifetime achievement, probably one of the younger people to win it since she started her career so young, and in her speech there was a lot of rambling, during which she first hinted at confirming long-gossiped suspicions of her sexuality then thanked her ex-partner and co-parent of her two children. She continued to ramble about her being a very private person, then a lot of unrelated things that I didn’t quite get (is she quitting show business, or just acting, or what?) and Mel Gibson wouldn’t stop staring at her like he was frozen in time. Creepy.
The lesson to take home from Foster “coming out” when accepting this award is that it’s not her job to teach you that lesson. Oh, and speculation is a waste of your time. Think of all the poems you could have read, flowers you could have smelled, wine you could have tasted if you hadn’t put all of those hours into gossiping about lesbian clues in Jodie’s demeanour. Anderson Cooper officially came out last year because kids kept killing themselves. Jodie Foster had to clarify things while accepting a lifetime achievement award because of whom she had to thank for supporting her in what earned her that award. I hope we’re building up to a point where there is never an expectation to “come out” in a spectacular way, out of respect for privacy and out of being unfazed by revelations of anyone’s sexual orientation. I hope for that almost as much as I hope for teenagers to stop committing suicide. And I hope for that even more than I hope for Mel Gibson to stop looking creepy.