All of the furor over Ricky Gervais’ performance hosting the Golden Globe Awards last weekend has helped to reveal the strange split personality of awards shows.
I did not see the Globes; I’d gotten a little tired of Gervais lately, and thought his recent profession of atheism was more insufferably smug than enlightening. However, I’ve read many of his jokes from the awards ceremony, and have to admit they were pretty funny.
The trouble is that an awards show is two different things. To the people who are eligible for awards, and their friends, family and co-workers, an awards show is a time for pride and recognition. I know what that’s like; if I’m up for a Tennessee Press Association award, or a Tennessee Associated Press Managing Editors award, it’s an occasion for pride and good feelings.
But somehow, entertainment industry awards are of interest to people outside the circle of past, present and potential recipients. The major awards – the Oscars, Emmys, Grammys and Tonys – were put on television because we, as a society, are fascinated by celebrities and glamour and what have you, even though we don’t have any real stake in the competition.
In the old days, the glamour, and the occasional Bob Hope witticism, used to be enough to sustain our interest. But now, with a new awards show popping up each week, and with some aspects of the traditional awards show telecast seeming tired and shopworn, producers have to try to stack the deck to keep the home viewers interested. Even awards shows have started making self-conscious fun of the scripted patter between award presenters.
Speaking in my role as a home viewer, I like it when there’s a clever host saying funny things, and poking holes in some egotistical entertainment industry windbag. During David Letterman’s funny but much-reviled turn hosting the Oscars, he introduced the politically-active couple of Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon as presenters with a plaintive “Let’s see what they’re pissed off about this week,” and I roared with laughter as Robbins and Sarandon glared. I like it when producers try to keep acceptance speeches short, and I am annoyed when someone insists on thanking every single person in the Greater Los Angeles telephone directory, individually, in alphabetical order, despite the orchestra’s best attempts to play him or her off the stage.
But if I were up for an Oscar, or even a Golden Globe, I’m sure I would feel differently.
That’s the problem; the things that make a good awards show telecast, from the perspective of the home viewer, are often at odds with the things that make a good awards ceremony, from the perspective of the people involved in honoring and being honored.
I’m not sure there’s a good way to reconcile the two, and I’m not sure what that says about the future of awards shows on TV.
