Kelsey Grammer’s daughter Greer now has three Hollywood jobs, but played the role of Cinderella on Thursday night.
She missed her own ball.
HFPA President Kingma announced Greer Grammer as this year’s Miss Golden Globe, a choice assignment for one Hollywood offspring to participate in the awards show.
With her biggest spotlight ever – a 60 foot red carpet, news vans, full production – she never got to enjoy her star treatment, like seeing her name projected on the wall inside or sipping a single-serve Moet with Jeremy Piven, Darby Stanchfield, and Justin Theroux.
She had a hard out at 6:30 p.m. to go shoot the ABC Family series “Melissa and Joey”. She was gone thirty minutes before the first faces started rolling through the carpet. (After ABC Family and the Globes, her third job is on MTV’s “Awkward”, not mopping floors for evil step-sisters.)
Greer’s proliferation is symbolic of the HFPA’s social footprint itself. The annual August grant luncheon shifted back to primetime with a grant dinner this year. HFPA leadership hinted that in 2015, they would have new presence at other marquee gatherings of the film industry beyond L.A.
Back home, Thursday night’s event started as a small November cocktail get together at Cecconi’s in 2012. It has now evolved in to a flagged night on the pre-nominations awards season calendar, with some of the same folks who have been ubiquitous at AFI, the Governors Awards, and the Hollywood Film awards continuing to beat the trail.
Partnered with InStyle Magazine for a second year at Fig & Olive, it echoed other hefty gatherings that can fill the same space end to end – like Entertainment Weekly’s pre-Emmy party. Fashion oriented guests called it an”InStyle” party. Film people referred to their surroundings as an “HFPA party”. That was not the only blending.
Because the Globes’ span across film and TV, some of the recognizable people filling the space are Emmys retreads, as in “oh, you again”: TV leads included Allison Tolman (“Fargo”), Jeremy Piven (“Mr. Selfridge”), Lizzy Caplan (“Masters of Sex”) and Dan Bucatinsky (“The Comeback”/“Scandal”).
They mixed with film contemporaries Emily Ratajkowski (“Gone Girl”), Chadwick Boseman (“42” and soon to be the “Black Panther”), Tessa Thompson (“Selma”), “American Sniper” writer/producer Jason Hall, and awards circuit mainstay Diane Warren.
When Erica Ash (of the Lebron James produced “Survivors Remorse”) realized she was talking to Warren, she began melting. “You wrote ‘I Was Here?!’,” Ash asked Warren, referencing the anthem made famous by Beyonce. “I’m going to faint right now in front of you. That is one of my favorite songs of all time. I can’t hear it and not cry.”
Warren just found out that her song recently became a local peace anthem in Iraq. “The movement is called ‘I Was Here’,” Warren said. “I read (about it) and I was sobbing.”
Earlier in the night, the hysterics were on Hollywood Boulevard as Jennifer Aniston headlined New Line’s “Horrible Bosses 2” premiere, surrounded by Christoph Waltz, Jamie Foxx, and returnee Jasons – Bateman and Sudeikis.
An influx of the red carpet photogs carpooled over to Fig & Olive for the HFPA gala, in time to catch Zach Braff, Matthew Morrison, and both halves of the recent “Best of Me,” Michelle Monaghan and James Marsden, while “She-J” the British Bardot spun inside.
Amy Poehler and Tina Fey host the Golden Globes 7 weeks from this Sunday, on January 11 at the Beverly Hilton.
Rest your livers.
Meanwhile over in Hollywood…
A one-night only boxing speakeasy popped up in the Hollywood Athletic Club, creating an immersive and original activation rarely seen outside of a festival (film, music, or otherwise).
They called it The Schlitz Bouts, a time-travel port to 1920s prize fighting courtesy of the Milwaukee brew.
Authentic even to 1920’s firecode, they kept the front door on Sunset locked, with nobody out front. Yes, an unmanned main entrance.
Only a knock and boutonniere pinned on a lapel got the pointing finger down a hall to the back arena. Apparently, there were no clipboards in the prohibition era.
Inside, four amateur boxing matches (fully sanctioned) and lots of old timey movie talk filled the space. They cast referees, judges, bells, ring girls, and sideshow entertainment that evoked a wormhole to the “Boardwalk Empire” era.
With a roaming conspiratorial cop with a poor nose for booze (“Is that cola? Lots of people drinking cola in here,” he’d patter.), it was hard to tell who was professional scenery and who was just too many Schlitz’s deep and seduced by the actual real fights to climb out of character.
With Movember rounding the turn for the homestretch, many male cancer activists were already in compliance with the mandatory style-guide by omission. Schlitz had distributed an illustrated, mandatory, wardrobe infographic in advance.
If previous experience nightlife like Xenii or cultural imports like Vueve Cliquot’s Polo Classic can win over the Hollywood scene’s fickle taste, there’s no reason why this could not be, and shouldn’t be, a recurring for-profit (and profitable) branded night out.
They’ve rang the bell once already previously, in Chicago, but L.A. deserves another round.