After last year’s utter catastrophe of a Golden Globes opening—stale, crass, practically booed-at jokes by host Jo Koy—what a wonderful bit of whiplash it was to watch this year’s host, Nikki Glaser, right the ship and then some at the top of Sunday night’s broadcast.
Glaser came to the Globes after a banger 2024, which saw the release of her Globe-nominated standup special and, most notably, a star-elevating performance at the roast of Tom Brady. Her roast jokes were lewd, crude, and precisely crafted, but that exact style was probably not quite ready for broadcast primetime. And certainly not for an awards show that is allowed to poke some light fun at the celebrities in the audience, but can’t travel too far below the belt. There was some question as to just how Glaser would calibrate her typically raunchy, biting comedy for a gentler show.
Turns out, she nailed the calculation. Her set was sharp and clever, including some digs at the depravity of Hollywood culture that were framed broadly enough not to offend anyone in particular (beyond P. Diddy, I guess). The material was pitched with a modest reverence for the big movies of the year and their glowing talent, while at the same time bursting the crowd’s gilded bubble. She knew which celebrities to target—the ones game enough to do a bit with her, or at least laugh along with hers—which takes a special kind of skill Glaser has of course honed over the years, albeit in more extreme ways, at the many roasts she’s done.
The highest compliment I can give is that Glaser’s opening set, and subsequent on-stage bits, brought to mind the three glorious years when the Globes were hosted by Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, a perhaps unparalleled run of lovingly barbed Hollywood mockery. Glaser didn’t traffic in the same loopy absurdism as Fey and Poehler, but many of her referential jokes were just as tart. And she did add some slightly abstract silliness at other points in the show, particularly an inspired bit in which she started, then stopped in shame, a hokey musical parody number reminiscent of Oscar days now long past.
Glaser’s confident hold of the stage called to mind the smooth glide of yesteryear, when many awards shows ran with a humming professionalism sincerely lacking in our current age of needless tinkering and poor hosting.
Which isn’t to say that the whole broadcast was a roaring success. There were indeed some bad tweaks to the formula, particularly a holdover from last year that really needs to be discarded. Why can’t we just have presenters stand in full view on stage, facing the audience? Why have the show’s producers instead chosen to put presenters in harsh close-up, with their backs to the mega-watt famouses in the room? That staging deadens the effect of any amusing scripted banter (and there was some this year!). If the folks in the room aren’t really invited into the joke, they don’t laugh as much, which then makes one less compelled to laugh at home.
The night’s stilted first award presentation—to a gushing, weeping Zoe Saldaña, giving old-fashioned earnestness in the best way—immediately halted the momentum Glaser got going. The janky visuals, terribly complemented by tinny sound, did a disservice to viewers and to the work being recognized in the room. They were even criticized by Canadian nice guy Seth Rogen! Stop trying to reinvent the wheel, awards shows. Just give it to us straight. And by straight, I mean straight toward the people sitting in the auditorium.
Still, the early high of Glaser’s routine went a long way in pasting over those problems, as did a handful of lovely speeches from the likes of Saldaña, Demi Moore, and, yes, even former awards-show pariah Adrien Brody. There was a real sense of occasion to the show, a meeting of merriment and gravity, that has been lacking in a lot of awards shows post-pandemic. (Probably even before then.)
English (US) ·