The Golden Globes. An American Crime.


I find it increasingly difficult to write about what I like. The thesaurus in my brain just keeps searching for the next positive word I could use until I get worn out and give up on the piece altogether. Perhaps my style is just that of a bitter old man who can mock some shit really well. Those negative words come really easily for me.

With that in mind, I'll tell you what... American Crime deserves every award there is. It. Is. Good. And I'm talking about the writing, the direction, the cinematography, the editing, all the way down to the damn static camera angles. It's fucking good.

The brain child of John Ridley, the first season of the anthology series, in a nutshell, dealt with race. The second season, also shelled, is dealing with rape. Both stories were/are being told in unexpected ways. Rather than dealing with the clear-cut "victim" character and how the scenario affects them and them alone (as most clichéd crime dramas tend to do, when it's not about solving the crime and romanticizing the officers who do so), it deals with everyone connected to the victim or the situation in question. The entire scope of the story is told. And, again, it's told incredibly well. Which consistently leaves me in awe at the magnitude of Ridley's brain. To paint a portrait that makes you equally empathize with the criminal in prison and the headmaster of a private school is not an easy task. Take it from me, a person who finds it hard to write nice things about shit they actually like.

That being said, let's talk about the fucking Golden Globes in my bitter comfort zone.

Wolf Hall, you guys? Seriously?

When the nominations were announced, I carefully looked through them and was pretty indifferent about most of it. It made sense that most people/things were nominated and, for the most part, probable winners were fairly obvious. The only (and I mean only) category that gave me pause was "Best Television Limited Series or Motion Picture Made for Television."

That is one heavy category. Hotel, I think, is questionable. I'm not mad at it, by any stretch of the imagination, but it doesn't hold a candle to American Crime. The only other nominees that do are Fargo and Flesh & Bone. Here endeth my then thought process. Wolf Hall wasn't even a factor in my mind. And even with two nominations stricken, it was still the roughest category of the whole shindig. (Except for "Actress." More on that in a second.)

Now, granted, I didn't watch Wolf Hall. (Feel free to roll your eyes and discount my opinion at this point, but understand: I did watch every episode of everything else.) Maybe it's the greatest period piece that's ever been created, but it's just not my bag. As far as I know, nobody watched that shit. And if they did, it's 'cause they're old. #KeepinItReal (I'm Gen Y, so don't you dare call me a millennial. Nonetheless, that Y still entitles me to not watch PBS.) So, whatever. I'll let it go eventually. But "Actress?!" Ugh...

I'm not even mad at Felicity Huffman not winning "Best Actress." I think, as a gay man, I'm legally not allowed to be mad at Gaga beating her. What I am mad at is "Best Supporting Actress." Maura Tierney, y'all? For The Fucking Affair? I did actually watch The Affair and I saw how little she was even in the second season and what little she did when she was in it, other than hit a mother fucker with her car and cry about it for a scene and a half. For her to beat out Regina King...


That is all.