A GOLDEN GUEST IN HOLLYWOOD
We read plenty about the gongs, the gúnas and the glory of the Golden Globes, but what are they really like from the perspective of a guest? Here, Swords native Trevor Butterworth reveals all
APART from living in Brooklyn for a spell and seeing celebrities like Michelle Williams or Maggie Gyllenhaal in the local coffee shop, Hollywood is not a world that I’ve really mixed in.
Usually, I’d watch award ceremonies like the Golden Globes with a few friends and a few drinks, and we’d laugh and groan about the overearnestness of the speeches.
We’d maybe bitch a little about what people were wearing — of course, those comments would always hot up in mixed company.
There was always a sense from our perspective on the outside that these award ceremonies would go on forever and end up being slightly boring. I can now tell you how different that is in reality.
I went to journalism school in New York, and one of my great friends from that era, Diederik Van Hoogstraten, ended up in entertainment journalism in Hollywood after spending years covering politics in the US for the Dutch media.
He became a member of the Board of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association (which organises the Golden Globes), and my ticket to the magic kingdom.
There is an ongoing narrative that the Globes are a quirky, eccentric, slightly corrupt ‘joke’ of an awards ceremony, but the truth is that Hollywood really enjoys them.
It feels like a safe space for actors and it’s surprisingly relaxed. They can eat and have a drink, whereas at the Oscars, things can be longer and a bit more uptight — and, critically, there’s no drinking during the actual ceremony.
I got to Los Angeles from Dublin a couple of days before the awards, thrilling at the weather, first of all. What a break from a European winter. Then Diederik told me that we were going to industry parties in addition to the Globes — I didn’t need to be asked twice.
I’d been planning to spend most of my time on the beach so I’d brought a tux, but hadn’t brought too many smart-casual clothes, so the first task was to find not-that-expensive, but still acceptable wear for all these parties.
During awards season, it’s not just anyone that can lig into an Amazon or Netflix party, but because Diederik was a member of the HFPA and that week was essentially its awards week, he had extra legitimacy at these parties.
At the Amazon soirée, I met Andrew Scott. I’d been told by friends that you don’t want to say anything too clichéd or inane to anyone important, although coming across as gushing is okay. Everyone in this town is a little insecure, so it’s nice to have someone gush over you.
Just try and not say ‘thank you for the laughter’ to someone like Sacha Baron Cohen, not because it isn’t a reasonable sentiment, it just lacks imagination.
With Andrew Scott, I told him I had been the stills photographer on Lenny Abrahamson’s first short, Three Joes, which was probably the last thing he was expecting. And while not particularly meaningful, it wasn’t entirely inane, or ‘thank you for your holiness’. It also meant that I had something which proved golden to the women in my social circle: I had talked to the ‘Hot Priest’ from Fleabag.
‘What was he like?’ came the collective swoon. ‘Utterly charming,’ I affirmed. It also really hit me that Hollywood wasn’t as snooty as I’d expected it to be, an observation repeatedly confirmed by other refugees from New York. It’s a very creative industry, and people are particularly willing to accommodate eccentricities.
In fact, I’d go as far as to say it seems like a pretty nerdy industry once you get past the top, gilded layer of A-listers. The people who make it all happen are highly educated, extremely passionate and part of a very complex industry.
What you often don’t realise about the award ceremonies too is that some of the newbie nominees have been suddenly thrust into the awards season and they don’t know a lot of people. They’re wandering around with only their publicists for company. Diederik impressed on me that it’s fine to strike up a conversation with anyone at the bar, and it’s perfectly acceptable to chat to them about their movie or TV show.
On the day of the awards ceremony itself, things start roughly at about 1pm, when you put on your tux. Most people rent a limo, and you leave at about 2pm, essentially to sit in traffic next to Wiltshire Boulevard for 45
Everyone in this town is a little insecure
minutes. It’s like a military convoy. The A-listers are in their own lane as they don’t have to queue. Because of recent events in Iran, security was incredibly intense. It was literally like entering a military base, with the bomb squad there. Guests are taken in batches and you pull up at the red carpet. Once you’re there, the objective is to take as long as possible to walk down it. At the Golden Globes, it’s really long and has lots of twists with little set-ups for the various TV shows.
They try to rush you down the carpet with the promise of champagne at the end, but we snailed along until we found a spot to basically park up and watch. After that, you’re literally standing next to the A-listers. The stars — the women especially — are under an immense amount of scrutiny, with every gesture and facial expression dissected and assigned its own dramatic narrative. In some ways, it’s the ultimate acting challenge.
Some people, like Daniel Craig, seem to hate it and try to get to their table without too much fuss, but the newbies happily do it for the exposure. Beanie Feldstein (of Lady Bird fame) radiated joy. Helen Mirren seemed to have a great time on the red carpet carousing with Elton John and, later, I saw her walking handin-hand into the ballroom of the Beverly Hilton, where the ceremony was being held, with Meryl Streep, like two schoolgirls.
I guess we look at celebrity as the ultimate luxury good and movie stars are probably the highest expression of that luxury.
Being a movie star is the closest you can get to immortality in human form; after all, you’re preserved forever in film.
They take on the status of these godlike figures but, up close and personal, you get to see that there’s a lot they have to pay for that success. Being famous is not a free ride; it’s a job, and the spotlight is relentless and unforgiving.
When it came to Ricky Gervais’s opening speech, I saw a lot of commentary afterwards about the room being full of stony-faced actors. But you have to remember that for nominees, the risk of reacting to something
Gervais says and having it taken out of context by the public or media is enormous.
They have to have a neutral look in the face of ribald, highly inappropriate jokes.
One person who bucked that trend was Adam Driver, who laughed at everything. But look, this is an artistic community, they are perfectly happy to be made fun of and they’re well able to handle barbs. And anyway, people would have been disappointed if Ricky didn’t cause at least a little controversy.
In terms of star power, this sounds like I’m gushing but I’ve seen Charlize Theron in many films, and she’s never been one of my secret Hollywood crushes, but seeing her up close and personal, my mind was blown. You have to almost pity someone for being that stunning. Likewise, Cate Blanchett is otherworldly in terms of her looks and more regal than any queen.
Naomi Watts is petite and it was quite easy for her to get lost among the more statuesque actors (it’s a myth that most actors are much shorter in real life, by the way; and if you look at the cast of Succession, you could say they’re getting even taller).
The one person you might be most likely to take for a regular person is Kit Harington — he’s good looking but could easily be wandering around with other regular blokes.
Interestingly, it seemed to me that Jennifer Lopez didn’t look quite so comfortable as her conominees, but then someone told me it might be because this wasn’t necessarily her crowd. Because they are film and TV awards, the Golden Globes has a bit of a ‘jobbing actors’ scene, while J-Lo is at the very top of the music chain.
Saoirse Ronan was one of the late arrivals, but the one thing mentioned around town is that, more than any of her other Little Women co-stars, she has been impressively relentless in doing promotion for the film.
I don’t know how many times I turned on the radio or picked up a paper on to find her giving thoughtful, passionate answers about Little Women and director Greta Gerwig.
It’s easy to describe Saoirse as radiant, like a a John Singer Sargeant portrait come to life, because she is. But what lingers is that you may be looking at one of the greatest actors of our time — and that this city and its award seasons are hers for a very long time if she wishes.
I had been warned that the food at the Golden Globes was never all that great, but obviously this year the all-vegan meal got a lot of attention.
It transpires that Joaquin Phoenix and Rooney Mara wrote an impassioned letter to the HFPA two weeks before the event, making their plea for a vegan meal.
As you can imagine when it comes to organising something like this, a request two weeks beforehand is pretty late in the day, but because Joaquin was a big-name nominee (for Joker), do you risk having one of your top names not show up because you refused to accede to a request backed by many other actor cosignatories? No you don’t.
And so we were served risotto and Brussels sprouts. I like Brussel sprouts, so it was fine with me. In the end, Joaquin was thankful to the HFPA for making the effort.
Of course, the after-parties offer no shortage of food too, and the fried chicken sliders were a big hit at the HBO party. There was lots of champagne too; and lots and lots of champagne waste. I did my best to minimise that, thinking of the grapes.
The after-parties can become a bit of a mob scene, and Jason Momoa was the flame for the selfietaking moths. He’s such an entertaining character — a human asteroid of enthusiasm — that his appeal isn’t just about looks. He ended up having to run out, eventually.
Once you’re an A-lister, you can do awards season with grace or without grace. I came away with an enormous amount of respect for those who do it with grace, especially Jennifer Aniston. She blazed a trail of bonhomie down that red carpet. She even took time to pat the security dogs.
Was it an act? Who cares? She hit her marks, and in doing so made us feel less guilty for our gaze. As for me, well, I happily appreciated those few days of froth.
On the way home in the car, I told Diederik I wasn’t sure I was ready to leave Neverland just yet. The whole night was just like being a bubble within a champagne bottle.
Daniel Craig seemed to hate the fuss Jason Momoa is a f lame for selfie moths