I don’t much care about the whole Meryl Streep thing at the Golden Globes, but this piece on her speech and disability is worth rolling in to your consideration of the matter–if you care.
…and this has passed with nary a comment.
This is meant to reassure.
No one on that committee called him on this.
My prediction: this gutless assembly of August Senators will confirm every single nomination. The Democrats will ask a few impolite questions. Nothing much will happen.
What the Democrats should do is shut the whole farce down, like that execrable actual garbage fire McConnell did with hearings on Merrick Garland.
So, yeah, they happened. I don’t really care much either way, but I’m a bit suspicious about how Moonlight earns best dramatic picture, and…nothing else, while LA’s film industry’s trivial little love letter to itself wins…seven.
In my very brief, and graciously engaged conversation with Barry Jenkins a month or so ago, he gently asserted that he’s not in this for the awards. Somehow, I knew this. The film is too good, its spirit too generous and wise and patient to betray a community of people hungry for awards.
So that the film does or doesn’t win this or that award isn’t terribly important. Time and history will judge the film to be as essential and timeless and important as it exactly is.
But in the context of Oscars so White, something still feels amiss.
I’m suspicious that the Globes gave the best picture award to Moonlight, because they felt like they had to, but then went back to all the usual stuff, as if to suggest it had done its moral duty.
Maybe I’m wrong. The Globes did pay mind to Fences and Atlanta and Hidden Figures.
Those seven awards for La La Land are looking pretty damned white.
And Casey Affleck?
Nate Parker is eviscerated, his career essentially over, and Affleck gets a pass?
Let’s not even get started with that.
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