A (Semi) Golden Evening at the Golden Globes

Who votes for the Golden Globes, anyway? The top-of-the-year awards ceremony used to be hosted by the Hollywood Foreign Press, a small cadre of foreign journalists known for their eccentricity, their snootiness, and their willingness to be bought by the highest bidder. (A “new star of the year” statuette for Pia Zadora? Really?)

 After an outcry a few years back about the group’s ongoing racist inclinations, there was a complex reshuffling of the Globes’ voting bloc, and I don’t pretend to know who’s in charge now. I do know, though, several key things. First of all, that the event still tries to present itself as the awards season’s best party, with attendees served a festive dinner and booze flowing like water. Secondly, that awards go to both movie and TV bigshots (crafts categories are pretty much ignored). And, thirdly, that best picture and best actor awards are divided between dramas, on the one hand, and comedies or musicals on the other. This divvying up of films by genre perhaps made sense at one time: at the Oscars great comic performances have often been overlooked in favor of actors playing dead-serious roles. But the categorizing at the Globes often leads, as it did this year, to some head-scratching choices. Take the Best Motion Picture—Musical or Comedy category. It’s easy to see that Wicked belongs there. But what about Anora,  A Real Pain, The Substance, and the ultimate winner, Emilia Pérez?  Yes, they might contain hilarious moments, but films in which the heroine suffers a ghastly fate don’t strike me as fundamentally funny. Nor does a movie whose climax is a visit to a Polish concentration camp.

 Host Nikki Glaser, who’s been receiving major plaudits for her performance, got off some good lines in her opening monologue, which nicely skewered Hollywood pomposity. I enjoyed her intro of “two-time Holocaust survivor” Adrien Brody, but particularly appreciated her canny reference to “the hardest-working actors in the room,” the ones that were busy serving the meal on which celebrities in tight outfits were cautiously nibbling. In the later innings, though, Glaser didn’t seem to have much to say. She DID show up in a series of glamorous gowns, each designed to show us she has two breasts in working order.  (Breasts were definitely star attractions among the ceremony’s female contingent.) At one point Glaser started in on a song mashing up Conclave and Wicked’s “Popular.” I had high hopes for comedy gold, but her “Pope-ular” stopped almost as soon as it started. As for other great funny moments, fuhgeddaboudit . . . except when an impish Seth Rogen and a priceless Catherine O’Hara admitted to the awards they’d supposedly won (like The Golden Antler and The Beaver) in their native Canada. Theirs was the only appearance that had me laughing out loud.

 What about the winners? The prize for most emotional definitely went to Best Female Actor in a Supporting Role (yes, that’s how they put it), Zoe Saldaña, who seemed overcome by her win to the point of choking up, and then couldn’t stop talking. Having seen Emilia Pérez, I agree that she earned her award. Almost equally emotional (and equally voluble) was Adrien Brody, Best Male Actor in a Motion Picture--Drama for another much-honored flick, The Brutalist. Demi Moore was articulate and touching in explaining how The Substance (a comedy??) gave her a new lease on her professional life, in keeping with the film’s own themes. But the #1 surprise was Fernanda Torres of Argentina, for the Brazilian I’m Still Here, beating out some of Hollywood’s finest. This I’ve gotta see!  

 

A Change for the Better: “Emilia Pérez”

A friend with a strong interest in movies has chosen not to see Emilia Pérez.  He said he just couldn’t get excited about a film that focused on a Mexican crime lord’s sexual transition from male to female. The fact that it is a musical made it seem, to him, even odder. And I admit I had something of the same feelings. I’m a bit overwhelmed, right now, regarding movies (and other art forms) that focus intensely on gender dysphoria.

 But then Emilia Pérez showed up on Netflix, which meant I could watch it for free. And I was certainly curious (though not yellow) to see why this film set the Cannes Film Festival abuzz, and won a Best Actress prize to be divided among its featured female ensemble. The actresses included Latin American stars Zoe Saldaña and Selena Gomez, along with Karla Sofía Gascón, a Spanish performer who transitioned from male to female in 2018. Gascón has been mentioned as a possible Oscar nominee, and I can see why. In the film’s early going, she is featured as a gruff, tremendously fearsome cartel boss who is not in the least feminine. As Juan "Manitas" Del Monte  she summons a talented but underappreciated female attorney (Saldaña) and forcefully explains her desire to leave her current life—whatever the cost—and become a woman. There follow several rather goofy musical segments in which Saldaña travels the world, looking for doctors who are both discreet and adept at sexual reassignment surgeries. For the right price, it’s amazing how many services are available. An add-on procedure to remove the “Adam’s apple”? Sure.

 I enjoyed all of the above, but couldn’t see why French writer- director Jacques Audiard was racking up major honors for this film. But once Manitas becomes Emilia, the film radically changes its tone. Whereas Manitas was imperious and cold, Emilia is warmth personified. In her new and quite attractive body, she’s positively glowing. But she’s no longer just interested in self-satisfaction. Now, with Saldaña’s Rita as her lieutenant, she’s started a major charity to help mistreated women. (Rita’s mixed emotions are striking. When Emilia suckers a large group of drug lords into showing up at a banquet to support her group, Rita acts out her contempt for these potential benefactors in a remarkable fantasy number that shows off her stunning dance moves.) 

 The film’s musical numbers have the virtue of reminding us that this story is built on fantasy. But the fantasy co-exists with some tender moments that are deeply felt, like Emilia’s growing longing to be with the young children she once sired, and her little son’s hunch that his newly arrived “aunt” is somehow closer to his absent father than she might seem. Love is in the air in all its iterations: Emilia forms a romantic bond with a needy young wife who’s glad to be rid of her abusive husband. Meanwhile, Selena Gomez’s Jessi, believing herself the widow of the absent Manitas, falls for the slimy Gustavo and helps hatch a desperate plan that will dominate the film’s last section. Alas, surprises await. 

 What’s this movie saying? That women are better (if not necessarily stronger) than men? That seems much too simplistic a conclusion. And Gomez’s Jessi, for all her moments of self-reproach, is hardly saintly. Let’s just say Emilia Pérez is about the value of being true to your authentic self. Manitas was once hated and feared. But Emilia, at film’s end, is recognized as a hero, even a saint. As a woman, she brings her community together, instead of tearing it apart.