"The Golden Globes are disgusting! I'm never paying attention to them again!"
"Since when did winning or losing depend on gender? If the Oscars and other awards start thinking like that, Laila should stop attending award ceremonies altogether!"
But there were also some more rational voices trying to speak up for the Golden Globes—"Could it be just a coincidence? Maybe the judges simply liked Avatar more? Don't people like it? Its box office speaks for itself."
Some more aggressive comments scoffed at the accusation of gender discrimination—"So whenever a woman doesn't win, it's discrimination? Then men shouldn't win anything anymore, just give everything to women — would that mean there's no discrimination then?"
Laila and the others only learned about the heated online debate after they got home.
They hadn't expected the Golden Globes to stir up such controversy, which immediately brightened Laila's mood, despite not winning a single award. She was no saint; seeing people who had made her unhappy now suffer in turn made her feel quite pleased.
"So it can be spun into a gender discrimination issue… I've learned a new trick." No matter who had first brought up the topic, Laila admired that person as a true "tough girl." The angle was so sharp that it left the Golden Globes with no way to defend themselves.
Honestly, Avatar was a great film and had secured its place in cinematic history. Giving it Best Director and Best Picture wasn't necessarily wrong. At least for these two categories, Laila didn't feel her loss was unjust. Unlike Best Screenplay and Best Actor, which she felt deeply resentful about losing.
Roy kept scrolling through related topics and saw the entire FB platform engulfed in debate over gender discrimination. Silently, he lit a candle for the Golden Globes in his heart. Whether intentional or not, he knew they were in for a rough ride.
"If they don't handle this well, it's going to seriously hurt their reputation."
"That's their bad luck," Laila said gleefully. "Don't you think Leonardo deserved Best Actor? That's what ticks me off."
She could swear in front of anyone that Leonardo's performance in Blood Diamond was Oscar-worthy. And yet, he lost to a film she hadn't even bothered to watch. How could she stay calm?
Speaking of Leonardo, Roy also felt sorry for his friend's defeat.
"He seemed convinced by his gut feeling. Even before leaving, he was still unsettled, saying he wouldn't win at the Oscars either."
Laila shook her head. "The Oscars are more professional. I believe he still has a real shot."
Even if he ultimately failed, it would only mean she still wasn't strong enough yet—not fully capable of coaching him to an Oscar-level performance.
"I believe in you." Roy placed his hand over hers. "I saw the film—it was an Oscar-level performance. The Academy will give you a fair chance!"
"Thank you." Laila leaned against him, her voice filled with a bit of pride. "I think I did a great job too!"
While they enjoyed their cozy moment at home, the Golden Globes had already caught wind of the online firestorm—and the fact that they were in big trouble.
Gender discrimination! That wasn't a small accusation.
In ordinary times, even if such things happened, they might not face serious consequences. But for an award show that survived public attention, this was like a bolt from the blue. If they didn't handle it properly, they might not even make it to next year's ceremony.
No ceremony meant losing their influence. And once that power was gone, who would still care about these so-called members of the Foreign Press Association? Who would still treat them with respect?
"Who made the final list? Why didn't we give an award to Moran or Cameron's ex-wife?" One of them was so furious he couldn't even remember Kathryn Bigelow's name, referring to her only as "Cameron's ex-wife."
"The list was decided collectively, wasn't it? Don't act like you're innocent!" Someone else immediately saw through his attempt to dodge responsibility. But with the situation this bad, who wouldn't want to distance themselves? The problem was—could they?
"Don't drag me into this! I voted for Moran as Best Director—it was you guys who didn't want that!" someone sneered. When the list was being decided, he had voted for Laila and Blood Diamond for both Best Director and Best Picture. But the others outvoted him, choosing Avatar instead.
And now they wanted to pull him down with them? Sorry, but he wasn't taking the fall!
"Everyone!" Another person stood up and said solemnly, "It's too late to argue about responsibility. The trophies are already handed out; we can't take them back, nor can we change the winners. What we need to discuss is how to deal with the backlash."
"I say we just don't respond. Once new topics come up, people will forget about this."
Cold silence often worked in many situations. Hot topics always faded with time.
But this suggestion was quickly shot down.
"Don't joke around! We're the globally renowned Golden Globes! We appear every year, handing out awards to famous figures. What do you think journalists do? They'll bring this up every year. Do you want to see this scandal dragged out in every future awards season?"
"Surely... not?" Many faces turned pale. Though worried, they knew such a scenario was highly likely. The thought of their lively ceremonies turning into annual public humiliations was enough to crush their spirits.
"We all know this industry too well."
"So what do we do? We can't apologize, and we can't revoke the awards."
That was their biggest headache. The awards were out; what was done was done. And with today's internet, even people across the globe would soon hear about their disgrace.
"There may be only one option left," someone finally said, then shared his idea under everyone's anxious gazes. "We could privately reach out to both female directors. As long as they publicly acknowledge and support our decisions, others will stop stirring up trouble."
The room went silent, everyone staring at him like he was crazy. Ask the two directors they had snubbed to speak up for them. Was that even possible?