Chutzpah in Black: ‘Golden Globes’ Points its Finger the Wrong Way

Golden Globes: (L to R) Meryl Streep, National Domestic Workers Alliance director Ai-jen Poo, Michelle Williams, and #MeToo founder Tarana Burke.

You have to hand it to Hollywood—it’s got chutzpah. The holier-than-thou instinct must truly overpower any sense of decency and morality among its luminaries as they mount their pulpits to lecture the world about the only recently discovered horrors of sexual inequality. Like the convict who finds religion after being sentenced and then proceeds to judge all the world around him, Hollywood now presents itself as some sort of vanguard in the fight against sexism.

Sorry, but America ain’t buying what you’re selling. And maybe that’s what’s really eating you.

For years, you’ve ordained yourselves the high priests of the culture. For years, you’ve sexualized our girls and created lower expectations for our boys and men. You’ve created an industry that we all now understand is awash with the decadence, moral rot, and a self-deception that can only come from years of arrogant self-righteousness that is immune to honest self-examination.

You’ve lived lives of hedonistic excess all the while sneering at those who attempted to live sincerely. You’ve spent years on the therapist’s couch convincing yourselves that you’re good people all the while mocking modestly lived lives and now you feel entitled to lecture the rest of America about . . . anything? Physician, heal thyself!  No amount of black cloth can cover your shame.

What Kind of Tent Revival is This?
True to Hollywood’s self-deceptive nature, the whole of the Golden Globes broadcast was presented as a solemn 
Confiteor, but its sole purpose, truly, was to attempt to confer self-absolution through the exercise of judging others. It was a giant revival tent with Elmer Gantry projecting his own moral failings onto his congregation. The Globes were a set piece designed to proclaim to the world Hollywood’s virtue all the while putting it above those poor rubes at home watching.

It comes as no surprise to anyone that the people on stage don’t actually care about those at whom their stylized sermons are directed but, instead, were engaging in a therapeutic tutorial on method acting. What’s amazing, however, is that I think Hollywood managed to convince itself of its own righteousness—the actor doing his own stunt work always imagines he’s the hero. With each subsequent philippic, the players protested a bit too much. The angry and rousing admonitions came across for what they were, the false pretense of morality under the guise of accusation.

Instead of finding a moment for penitence and self-reflection, Hollywood’s leading lights seized the stage and the occasion to project their tired screeches at us, as if from a megaphone, to let us know they are very, very disappointed in American society.

Yes, they all knew for years and let it happen, but now that we know, the players are trying to mask their shame, shift blame, and hide from responsibility by loudly pointing at everyone else. It’s our fault, I guess, that Weinstein hired a private security firm to cover up his messes. And it’s our fault that the industry kept quiet about it for so long. It’s surely society’s fault that pedophilia is an open industry secret, and It’s certainly our fault that they continue to support Roman Polanski and that Rape-Rape is different from just rape when it’s merely a drugged 13-year-old girl who’s been violated. Like Weinstein, who blamed the ’60s and ’70s, Hollywood can’t really accept culpability, but instead needs to indict society at large.

I guess it’s in the industry’s DNA. Instead of engaging in real and difficult internal change its members would rather lecture others. Priest, save thyself!

It’s All About Power
Hollywood’s moral self-assessment and sense of worth seem to be determined less by how its denizens act, than by its understanding of its power and perceived duty to convince the rest of us how we should act. Hollywood morality, such as it is, is guided above all else by the myth of its own virtue. That “virtue” is, of course, nothing more than power. It is measured by its perceived ability to change the behavior of others.

Hollywood’s luminaries seem to be extremely adept at telling people what to do, all the while being uniquely unable to do themselves what they insist ought to be done. They are expert at preaching tolerance out of one side of their mouths while being intolerant of even the slightest dissent. They cast stones (indeed, boulders) at the slightest appearance of sexual impropriety while winking and nodding in private as they live in expensive Baccarat and Lalique homes built on foundations of decades-old sexual excess and inequality and surrounded by high walls that keep out the stones and gazes of others.

They play at authenticity in order to convince everyone else to be authentic. The trouble is, most people who aren’t in Hollywood are already leading fairly authentic lives—the essential characteristic of which is to not spend much time fretting about authenticity. It’s the actors and would-be mythmakers—bereft of much that is real in their lives and divorced from the reality of a non-storied life—who must seek authenticity because everything around them is so plastic. It’s not just a first world problem they’re grappling with, it’s a First-World entitled-artist problem. It’s no surprise, therefore, that one of the biggest challenges an actor has is to play a regular person.

Put another way: Of course they don’t practice what they preach; they’re not the kind of people they’re preaching to.

The entertainment industry peddles a mythos but tends to confuse mythos for ethos and manages, like the method actor who can’t quite shed his last role, to believe that the façade it has just put on is the real thing. But for a town whose zeitgeist is so deeply defined by its ability to peddle the shallows as depth and the façade as the reality, it should come as no surprise that showbiz people would eventually come to believe in their own illusions. To wit: “Hollywood has the best moral compass.” And so, what we saw up there at the Golden Globes were people who honestly convinced each other to believe themselves to be an oppressed class speaking truth to power, and not what they really were; accessories and accomplices to a moral depravity the likes of which normal people can’t even begin to imagine without the help of a Hollywood movie.

The Audacity of These People! 
For an industry so rife with 
sexism, pedophilia and hedonism to hijack our time and the national discussion with long-winded admonitions and moralizing jeremiads about equality and propriety borders on psychopathy and speaks to a narcissism and lack of internal self-reflection that knows no bounds. An industry that can boast of more sexual assault and inequality than almost any other probably ought to have some shame in seeking to lecture the rest of the populace about these subjects. But it does not. The Audacity of Chutzpah indeed.

As long as Hollywood’s self-reflection is directed outward and places more value on external signals rather than actual virtue, it will never change. Instead, it will trade one vice for another as it continues to deceptively convince itself that the character it is playing for the cameras is actually its true self.

About Boris Zelkin

Russian-born Boris Zelkin is an Emmy Award-winning composer who has written the music to countless films, documentaries, television shows and major sporting events, including the Tucker Carlson show, Bill O'Reilly, "Gosnell," “FrackNation,” Citizen United’s “Rediscovering God in America II,” Roger Simon’s “Lies and Whispers,” the America's Cup, the Masters, the World Skating Championships, the U.S. Open, NASCAR, the Stanley Cup Championship, and the theme to ESPN’s NCAA championship coverage. Zelkin received his B.A. from Colgate University and earned his M.A. in religion from the University of Chicago Divinity School. He has written extensively on the culture for various online journals and was a major contributor to the recently released “Bond Forever,” a book about the James Bond franchise. He currently resides in Los Angeles but is always looking for a way out.

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9 responses to “Chutzpah in Black: ‘Golden Globes’ Points its Finger the Wrong Way”

  1. “Of course they don’t practice what they preach; they’re not the kind of people they’re preaching to.”

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  2. The tranny on the right is the #metoo founder? Don’t believe it for a second.

  3. The only reason I watch some of this stuff is to see the fashion. This time around it was a fashion sea of serious black ugly. Such a disappointment. What would the late Joan Rivers have said?

    And Meryl Streep — formerly used to posing with the likes of Harvey on the red carpet — was reduced to sucking up to Ryan Secrest, giving the worst performance of her life pretending to care about equality. (Do you think for a minute she expects to be paid the same as the domestic servant prop on her arm?)

    One could almost hear Streep damning her publicist for putting her up to this.

  4. The absurd sanctimony Hollywood preaches to the rest of the world is, at least partially, what gave us Trump in the first place. Hollywood sells sex and is shocked, shocked to learn of bad behavior in Hollywood.

    Yes, Oprah has a point about sexual misconduct and as far as any one of us know she has no skeletons in her closet, but she knew for decades what went on Hollywood and as long as the checks kept coming she didn’t dare say a word publicly.

  5. I found it amusing that Turner Classic Movies was showing The Bad and the Beautiful (1952, 5 Oscars) during the Golden Globes. Slug line: “An unscrupulous movie producer uses everyone around him in his climb to the top.” IMDB uses the keyword “casting couch” to tag the film. They all knew. They’ve known for decades. It’s been the nature of the beast since before talkies.

  6. Not only dressed in black but dressed in modest styles covering most of their bodies. Usually they come out showing as much skin as the law allows but in order to talk against sex in the workplace they knew they couldn’t show up as trollops. The whole thing was a stage show “look at us dressed all ladylike so we can protest”.

  7. Harry: What is it out here with these women?
    Harmony: Oh please, Harry, they’re no different from anywhere else.
    Harry:Yes, they are. These are damaged goods, every one of them, from way back. I’m telling you, you take a guy who sleeps with 100 women a year, go into his childhood – dollars to doughnuts, it’s relatively unspectacular…
    Harry:… Now, you take one of these… gals, who sleeps with 100 guys a year, and I *bet* you if you look in their childhood, there’s something rotten in Denver.
    Harmony: Denmark.
    Harry: That too! But it’s abandonment, it’s abuse, it’s, “My uncle put his ping-ping in my papa!”… and then they all come out here!
    Harry: I mean, it’s literally like someone took America by the East Coast and *shook* it, and all the normal girls managed to hang on.

    —- Kiss Kiss Bang Bang