I was thinking it. I know you were thinking it. I'm pretty sure everyone I know was thinking it. We were all thinking this: I LOVE this strike-shortened, bang-'em-out, knock-em-down Golden Globe Awards telecast. 
I mean, THIS is what I'm talkin' about: No filler, no nonsense, no tributes, no speeches, no hosts, no bad jokes or tired song-and-dance routines, or orchestral cues (telling the gaseous nominee to get his or her butt off stage), no quips about how long that winner droned on, and no teases telling you/me to wait through the five-minute commercial break to learn just who (exactly) WILL win Best Performance by an Actress In A Supporting Role in a Motion Picture, etc.
In fact, fewer commercials.
Yeah, we had to endure Billy Bush and Nancy O'Dell, but they weren't so bad and after a while, I came to absolutely love their brisk, semi-nonsensical style (you could almost imagine one of them saying to the other - "there's an award show to put on, pal - don't CARE what you think about Cate Blanchett.") These two were handed lemons and forced to make lemonade, and pretty much succeeded. They didn't try to be too cute - no lame jokes, the best I could tell - because the format forbade it. Dave Karger, the "EW" writer who vaguely looks like Matt Damon (if you're near-sighted?) He was good too - the guy who provided color on an as-needed basis. I didn't pay close attention to his predictions but think he was careful to couch matters (well, "Atonement" could win, but...)
I think we've witnessed the birth of a tradition -a team for the future. The lemon team.
Why were these awards so darned great? Beyond the fact that they were over by 10 p.m. sharp? Need I say more?
Almost as soon as we learn the winner of "Best Director - Motion Picture" - then BOOM! - we're on the next category (best screenplay - motion picture), and then the next one, and the next one after that.
Boom, boom, boom. What joy, joy, joy.
Of course, from the WINNER'S perspective, it was probably a massive let-down. The Globes and all these other award shows are all about consecrating one's stature, inflating one's ego, dressing up one's legend, and for the network, raking in the ad bucks and flacking the new mid-season series' launches. Well too damn bad: How about us? The great unwashed at home, who must endure this preening parade of primping year after year after year? This format was all about getting it DONE. It was almost as if NBC were embarrassed by the thing - even though NBC was forced to cover this glamorized envelop-opening when the Hollywood Foreign Press Association canceled the ceremony, due to the writers strike.
But don't worry, NBC. For those of us sitting at home, who usually gird our collective loins for a horrendously long and tedious night, we are grateful. Eternally grateful. Thank you. Thank you. THANK YOU.
My favorite moment of the night? You'll learn in the next post.