In yet another story about How The Writers Strike Has Affected, Is Currently Affecting, Our Will Affect The Lives of TV And/Or Movie-Loving Americans, the AP looks at the impact the walkout may have on the slew of upcoming awards shows dependent on the work of WGA professionals to provide the monologue jokes, seemingly off-the-cuff banter, and cutting-edge film-parody montages that help fill out the ceremonies' blink-and-you've-missed-four-hours-of-your-life- you'll-never-get-back running times. Reps from the Academy and the HFPA opine on how the strike might hamper both Hollywood's Biggest and Drunkest Nights, respectively:
Spokeswoman Leslie Unger said the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences hasn't even reached the planning stage yet. "Our show is a number of months off and we have no way of knowing if or how (the strike) will impact us," she said.
It also may be difficult for the Academy Awards to "find people who will perform on the show who aren't members of the Writers Guild," said veteran writer Bruce Vilanch, who has worked on the Academy Awards for the past 18 years. "Most standup performers write for themselves and when they have shows, they get a writing credit."
Nominees for the Golden Globe Awards will be revealed December 13, and the script begins the following day, said executive producer Barry Adelman.
"We're hopeful the issues pertaining to the ... strike will be resolved to everyone's satisfaction before then," he said in a statement. "We intend to explore all of our available options in the upcoming weeks."
While the Academy Awards telecast will doubtlessly be crippled by the absence of its writers, as we hinted above, the Golden Globes has a secret weapon that could obviate the need for WGA labor: the presence of liquor at the attendees' tables. In fact, a minor shift in the Globes ceremony's staging could free the show's producers from fretting about the loss of their scribes: by simply placing screen legend Harrison Ford's table on the dais next to the presenter's podium and keeping it well-stocked with bottles of his favorite single-malt scotch, the Hollywood Foreign Press can be assured of an enchanting, memorable evening filled with slurred encouragements, boozy heckling, and, if they're lucky, an impromptu, tuxedo-rending, best-of-three falls wrestling match between the cinema immortal and "that cocky little punk who thinks he can take me. Yeah, I'm talking to you, LaBeouf. I crapped bigger than you during the commercial break. Twice."