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With a flailing Jo Koy at the helm, the Golden Globes' party seriously fizzled

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With a flailing Jo Koy at the helm, the Golden Globes' party seriously fizzled

The Golden Globes, the phoniest of the (almost) major screen awards, having briefly died on the operating table, was shocked back to life Sunday, its resurrection made available to the interested public over new home CBS and its streaming sister, Paramount+.

As detailed, if not instigated, by this paper, the Globes’ former administrators, the Hollywood Foreign Press Assn., finally dissolved in a flurry of bad publicity over an extreme lack of diversity among its relatively minuscule, dubiously credentialed, infamously persuadable, financially fiddly, disproportionately demanding membership. The brand is now co-owned by a billionaire and a media company among whose properties are the trade magazines Variety and the Hollywood Reporter, which not incidentally benefit from awards-related advertising. (Make of that what you will.) Still, with some fresh institutional oversight and an expanded, scrupulously diverse voting body, the new Globes are arguably less phony than of yore — which is good, but also, as an awards show, beside the point.

As television, the Globes’ reputation rests almost entirely on being more fun than the Oscars or the Emmys, whose combined territory the Globes encompass — an alcohol-fueled Hollywood party that might produce something wild, and which recalls the days when all such ceremonies were private banquets, before they turned into TV shows held in theaters with celebrities nailed in their seats for three hours, facing forward. (Indeed, some Globes guests are seated with their backs to the stage.)

So here we were, Sunday night, back at the Beverly Hilton hotel, on an elegant set, emphasizing gold, with table-filled terraces leading down to a circular stage. It was, if nothing else, nicely shot, emphasizing intimacy rather than grandness. The evening was genuinely star-studded — nearly all the nominees were present — and to the extent one enjoys watching celebrities in a room react, or not, to jokes at their expense, or tributes from their colleagues, one might account the broadcast a success.

Apart from that, the broadcast was watchable, like a handsome screen saver, without being interesting in any of the ways the announcer or producers promised. The absence of production numbers, tribute segments and self-congratulatory montages, while in some ways a good thing — it’s the only way to get through a show with so many categories in three hours — means that the evening has a structural repetitive sameness that depends entirely on the unpredictable human element to elevate it or subvert it.

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There was a fair share of elevation; it’s nice to see people recognized, and most everyone who was seemed sincerely touched, though the countdown clock, which more than one recipient mentioned aloud, kept most to a litany of thanks to colleagues and families, and away from extracurricular speechifying. But there was very little subversion. Robert Downey Jr., winning a supporting actor prize for “Oppenheimer,” tried to get that party started — “I took a beta blocker, so this is going to be a breeze” — but no one joined him in the conga line. In a contrasting human moment, presenter Kevin Costner seemed up past his bedtime, and barely interested in holding up his end of the banter opposite America Ferrera. Will Ferrell and Kristen Wiig, who I’m guessing prepared their own material, were funny as music continually interrupted their presentation and forced them to dance. But by then we were very late in the broadcast.

Kristen Wiig and Will Ferrell dance onstage at the Golden Globe Awards.

(Sonja Flemming / CBS)

Cutaways in and out of commercials featured shots of famous people mingling, away from their tables, with a decided emphasis on shots of Bruce Springsteen; next year they might consider cutting the awards and just showing the mingling.

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Selected to host, at the eleventh hour, was Jo Koy, a highly successful comedian who’s used to performing in big rooms to thousands of fans, largely about Filipino culture, but here seemed out of proportion, out of his depth and a fish out of water. His opening monologue seemed to consist mostly of high-volume pronouncements of famous people’s names, not followed necessarily by a joke.

“I got the gig 10 days ago,” he said defensively, never a good tack for a comic. “You want a perfect monologue?” He threw the show’s writers under the bus (“I wrote some of these and they’re the ones you’re laughing at”), which only compounded the sense that he was flailing; I feared at times the flop sweat might short out my television. Taylor Swift’s stone-faced reaction to a joke about the difference between an NFL broadcast and the Golden Globes — the punchline was that there were fewer shots of her on the Globes — is a meme by the time you read this. He could be surprisingly crude too. A prosthetic penis joke led from “Saltburn” to “Barbie” to “Maestro,” and the lesson he took away from “Succession” was “If you’re a billionaire, pull out.” Still, he soldiered on, and did not let his energy flag on his occasional, brief returns to the stage. And he did get Meryl Streep to say “Wakanda forever.”

Whatever its deficiencies as three hours of television, there is still something to be said for watching talented people honored, so this year’s Golden Globes, like any year’s, was not bereft of satisfying moments. For whatever reasons, institutional or otherwise, it was a diverse group of winners, so much so that it made diversity seem so normal and inevitable that it was almost not worth mentioning.

And there are other benefits to the Hollywood ecosystem, to be sure. Sunday night gave actors who have cooled their heels over much of 2023, awaiting the end of their strike, something to dress up for, a chance to step in front of a camera with a minimum of preparation and a maximum of exposure. After all, people do like getting awards, whatever the source. Plus, for the presenters and winners, there was a swag bag worth half a million dollars. And it is a fact of life that one is never too big to turn one’s nose up at free food and drink and $500,000 gift bags.

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Movie Reviews

‘Greenland 2: Migration’ Review: Gerard Butler in a Post-Apocalyptic Sequel That’s Exactly What You Expect

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‘Greenland 2: Migration’ Review: Gerard Butler in a Post-Apocalyptic Sequel That’s Exactly What You Expect

Desperate migrants are forced to leave Greenland after a malevolent force makes their island uninhabitable. No, it’s not tomorrow’s headline about Donald Trump, but rather the sequel to Ric Roman Waugh’s 2020 post-apocalyptic survival thriller. That film starring Gerard Butler and Morena Baccarin had the misfortune of opening during the pandemic and going straight to VOD. Greenland 2: Migration (now there’s a catchy title) has the benefit of opening in theaters, but it truly feels like an unnecessary follow-up. After all, how many travails can one poor family take?

That family consists of John Garrity (Butler), whose structural engineering skills designated him a governmental candidate for survival in the wake of an interstellar comet dubbed “Clarke” wreaking worldwide destruction; his wife Allison (Baccarin); and their son Nathan (now played by Roman Griffin Davis). At the end of the first film, the clan had endured numerous life-threatening crises as they made their way to the underground bunker in Greenland where survivors will attempt to make a new life.

Greenland 2: Migration

The Bottom Line

It’s the end of the world as we know it…again.

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Release date: Friday, January 9
Cast: Gerard Butler, Morena Baccarin, Roman Griffin Davis, Amber Rose Revah, Sophie Thompson, Trond Fausa Aurvag, William Abadie
Director: Ric Roman Waugh
Screenwriters: Mitchell LaFortune, Chris Sparling

Rated PG-13,
1 hour 38 minutes

Five years later, things aren’t going so well. Fragments of the comet continue to rain down on the planet, causing catastrophic destruction. The contaminated air prevents people from going outside, and resources are becoming increasingly scarce. But there are some plus sides, such as the bunker’s inhabitants still being able to dance to yacht rock.

When their safe haven in Greenland is destroyed, the Garritys, along with a few other survivors, are forced to flee. Their destination is France, where there are rumors of an oasis at the comet’s original crash site. And at the very least, the food is bound to be better.

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It’s a perilous journey, but anyone who saw the first film knows what to expect. The Garritys, along with the bunker’s Dr. Casey (Amber Rose Revah), run into some very bad people, undergoing a series of life-threatening trials and tribulations.

Unfortunately, while the thriller mechanics are reasonably well orchestrated by director Waugh (Angel Has Fallen, Kandahar) in his fourth collaboration with Butler, Greenland 2: Migration feels as redundant as its title. While the first film featured a relatively original premise and some genuine emotional dynamics in its suspenseful situations, this one just feels rote. And while it’s made clear that the crisis has resulted in people resorting to cutthroat, deadly means to ensure their survival, the Garritys have it relatively easy. All John has to do is adopt a puppy-dog look, put a pleading tone in his voice, beg for his family’s help, and people inevitably comply.

To be fair, the film contains some genuinely arresting scenes, including one set in a practically submerged Liverpool and another in a dried-up English Channel. The latter provides the opportunity for a harrowing sequence in which the family is forced to cross a giant ravine on a treacherously fragile rope ladder.

Butler remains a sturdy screen presence, his Everyman quality lending gravitas to his character. Baccarin, whose character serves as the story’s moral conscience (early in the proceedings she spearheads a fight to open the shelter to more refugees despite the lack of resources, delivering a not-so-subtle message), more than matches his impact. William Abadie (of Emily in Paris) also makes a strong impression as a Frenchman who briefly takes the family in and begs them to take his daughter Camille (Nelia Valery de Costa) along with them.

Resembling the sort of B-movie fantasy adventure, with serviceable but unremarkable special effects, that used to populate multiplexes in the early ‘70s, Greenland 2: Migration is adequate January filler programming. The only thing it’s missing is dinosaurs.

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Paramount stands by bid for Warner Bros. Discovery

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Paramount stands by bid for Warner Bros. Discovery

Paramount is staying the course on its $30-a-share bid for Warner Bros. Discovery, again appealing directly to shareholders.

The move comes after Warner Bros. Discovery’s board voted unanimously this week to reject Paramount’s revised bid, in which billionaire Larry Ellison agreed to personally guarantee the equity portion of his son’s firm’s financing package.

Paramount Skydance, in a Thursday statement, sidestepped Warner’s latest complaints about the enormous debt load that Paramount would need to pull off a takeover. Paramount instead said the appeal of its bid should be obvious: $30 a share in cash for all of Warner Bros. Discovery, including its large portfolio of cable channels, including CNN, HGTV, TBS and Animal Planet.

Warner board members have countered that Netflix’s $27.75 cash and stock bid for much of the company is superior because Netflix is a stronger company. Warner also has complained that it would have to incur billions in costs, including a $2.8-billion break-up fee, if it were to abandon the deal it signed with Netflix on Dec. 4.

The streaming giant has agreed to buy HBO, HBO Max and the Warner Bros. film and television studios, leaving Warner to spin off its basic cable channels into a separate company later this year.

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The murky value of Warner’s cable channel portfolio has become a bone of contention in the company’s sale.

“Our offer clearly provides WBD investors greater value and a more certain, expedited path to completion,” Paramount Chief Executive David Ellison said in Thursday’s statement. Paramount said it had resolved all the concerns that Warner had raised last month, “most notably by providing an irrevocable personal guarantee by Larry Ellison for the equity portion of the financing.”

Paramount is gambling that Warner investors will evaluate the two offers and sell their shares to Paramount. Stockholders have until Jan. 21 to tender their Warner shares, although Paramount could extend that deadline.

The Netflix transaction offers Warner shareholders $23.25 in cash, $4.50 in Netflix stock and shares in the new cable channel company, Discovery Global, which Warner hopes to create this summer.

Comcast spun off most of its NBCUniversal cable channels this month, including CNBC and MS NOW, creating a new company called Versant. The result hasn’t been pretty. Versant shares have plunged about 25% from Monday’s $45.17 opening price. On Thursday, Versant shares were selling for about $32.50. (Versant has said it expected volatility earlyon as large index funds sold shares to rebalance their portfolios).

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Paramount has argued that fluctuations in Netflix’s stock also reduces the value of the Netflix offer.

“Throughout this process, we have worked hard for WBD shareholders and remain committed to engaging with them on the merits of our superior bid and advancing our ongoing regulatory review process,” Ellison said.

Paramount is relying on equity backing from three Middle Eastern sovereign wealth funds, including Saudi Arabia. It turned to Apollo Global for much of its debt financing. Warner said this week that Paramount’s proposed $94 billion debt and equity financing package would make its proposed takeover of Warner the largest leveraged buyout ever.

Amid the stalemate, Paramount and Warner stock held steady. Paramount was trading around $12.36, while Warner shares are hovering around $28.50 on Thursday.

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Movie Review: A real-life ’70s hostage drama crackles in Gus Van Sant’s ‘Dead Man’s Wire’

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Movie Review: A real-life ’70s hostage drama crackles in Gus Van Sant’s ‘Dead Man’s Wire’

It plays a little loose with facts but the righteous rage of “Dog Day Afternoon” is present enough in Gus Van Sant’s “Dead Man’s Wire,” a based-on-a-true-tale hostage thriller that’s as deeply 1970s as it is contemporary.

In February 1977, Tony Kiritsis walked into the Meridian Mortgage Company in downtown Indianapolis and took one of its executives, Dick Hall, hostage. Kiritsis held a sawed-off shotgun to the back of Hall’s head and draped a wire around his neck that connected to the gun. If he moved too much, he would die.

The subsequent standoff moved to Kiritsis’ apartment and eventually concluded in a live televised news conference. The whole ordeal received some renewed attention in a 2022 podcast dramatization starring Jon Hamm.

But in “Dead Man’s Wire,” starring Bill Skarsgård as Kiritsis, these events are vividly brought to life by Van Sant. It’s been seven years since Van Sant directed, following 2018’s “Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot,” and one of the prevailing takeaways of his new film is that that’s too long of a break for a filmmaker of Van Sant’s caliber.

Working from a script by Austin Kolodney, the filmmaker of “My Own Private Idaho” and “Good Will Hunting” turns “Dead Man’s Wire” into not a period-piece time capsule but a bracingly relevant drama of outrage and inequality. Tony feels aggrieved by his mortgage company over a land deal the bank, he claims, blocked. We’re never given many specifics, but at the same time, there’s little doubt in “Dead Man’s Wire” that Tony’s cause is just. His means might be desperate and abhorrent, but the movie is very definitely on his side.

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That’s owed significantly to Skarsgård, who gives one of his finest and least adorned performances. While best known for films like “It,” “The Crow” and “Nosferatu,” here Skarsgård has little more than some green polyester and a very ’70s mustache to alter his looks. The straightforward, jittery intensity of his performance propels “Dead Man’s Wire.”

Yet Van Sant’s film aspires to be a larger ensemble drama, which it only partially succeeds at. Tony’s plight is far from a solitary one, as numerous threads suggest in Kolodney’s fast-paced script. First and foremost is Colman Domingo as a local DJ named Fred Temple. (If ever there were an actor suited, with a smooth baritone, to play a ’70s radio DJ, it’s Domingo.) Tony, a fan, calls Fred to air his demands. But it’s not just a media outlet for him. Fred touts himself as “the voice of the people.”

Something similar could be said of Tony, who rapidly emerges as a kind of folk hero. As much as he tortures his hostage (a very good Dacre Montgomery), he’s kind to the police officers surrounding him. And as he and Dick spend more time together, Dick emerges as a kind of victim, himself. It’s his father’s bank, and when Tony gets M.L. Hall (Al Pacino) on the phone, he sounds painfully insensitive, sooner ready to sacrifice his son than acknowledge any wrongdoing.

Pacino’s presence in “Dead Man’s Wire” is a nod to “Dog Day Afternoon,” a movie that may be far better — but, then again, that’s true of most films in comparison to Sidney Lumet’s unsurpassed 1975 classic. Still, Van Sant’s film bears some of the same rage and disillusionment with the meatgrinder of capitalism as “Dog Day.”

There’s also a telling, if not entirely successful subplot of a local TV news reporter (Myha’la) struggling against stereotypes. Even when she gets the goods on the unspooling news story, the way her producer says to “chop it up” and put it on air makes it clear: Whatever Tony is rebelling against, it’s him, not his plight, that will be served up on a prime-time plate.

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It doesn’t take recent similar cases of national fascination, such as Luigi Mangione, charged with killing a healthcare executive, to see contemporary echoes of Kiritsis’ tale. The real story is more complicated and less metaphor-ready, of course, than the movie, which detracts some from the film’s gritty sense of verisimilitude. Staying closer to the truth might have produced a more dynamic movie.

But “Dead Man’s Wire” still works. In the film, Tony’s demands are $5 million and an apology. It’s clear the latter means more to him than the money. The tragedy in “Dead Man’s Wire” is just how elusive “I’m sorry” can be.

“Dead Man’s Wire,” a Row K Entertainment release, is rated R for language throughout. Running time: 105 minutes. Three stars out of four.

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