The Golden Globes after-party scene was sizzlin’ at the Beverly Hilton Hotel, with the biggest stars in the entertainment industry dashing between more than a half-dozen elite bashes scattered throughout the hotel. And since we know you want all the dish on the action inside, our Hollywood.com insider was on the scene to be your eyes and ears.
Ring-a-Ding-Ding
My first stop came just as the awards ceremony was wrapping up, with a mini-gala underway on the rooftop of Merv Griffin‘s hotel in a chi-chi tented area. This event was hosted by New Line Cinema, the junior studio that recently released the blockbuster hit The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.
The party had a definite Middle-earthy flavor, with Tolkien-esque shrubbery dotting the space and warm, inviting decor, although any other comparisons to the film’s Hobbittown ceased with a neverending selection of funkadelic tunes like “Boogie Shoes” (hmm, don’t hobbits eschew footwear?) that blared through the tent–the deejay definitely wasn’t playing Enya. An expansive bar stretched across the room with bartenders so attentive, they often served up fresh drinks before you even had the chance to notice you were nearing the bottom of your glass.
The belle of the ball early on was easily John Cameron Mitchell, the Hedwig and the Angry Inch star who held court in a cozy booth packed with friends and business associates. Decked out in a fire-engine red suit, Mitchell flirted with boys and girls alike and ended up deep in a tete a tete with MTV’s warhorse journalist Kurt Loder (Mitchell kept things interesting throughout the night, kissing men and playfully feeling up a female friend’s revealing sequined top).
Meanwhile, the Rings fling kept things rosy despite the film’s best picture loss. Nattily attired Sir Ian McKellen was clearly the most charming “ringleader,” draping his arms in turn around his former co-stars including Elijah Wood, Sean Astin (whom I learned orders his drinks with no ice as to cut down his time waiting in line at the bar), John Rhys-Davies and the movie’s director, Peter Jackson. I heard at least one single-and-searching female guest utter the phrase, “There are a lot of little guys here!”
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Other stars caused a stir with their pairings, like long and lovely Leelee Sobieski, in a perfect fringe-hemmed cocktail number, snuggling up against the once-and-future Darth Vader himself, Hayden Christensen (Star Wars: Episode II – Attack of the Clones), whose lightsaber arm encircled her waist. But no real hanky-panky ensued–the two quickly split apart once the flashbulbs stopped popping.
Other New Line partygoers included Jeremy Irons, James Woods, Steve Buscemi, Robert Wuhl and Once & Again teen star Evan Rachel Wood, an underaged beauty who wisely refused a free drink.
Whither Reese?
Across the way in another tent on the roof was the MGM/United Artists bash, which endeavored to re-create a Studio 54 vibe, complete with disco ball above a dance floor, a collection of thumping ’70s hits, clear Lucite seats suspended from the ceiling and a waitstaff–some selling hot-pink cotton candy–clad entirely in white “wifebeater” tees.
Sex and the City’s Kristin Davis passed me on her way out and my way in–perhaps she was a little worried by the amount of empty tables–but that was because several party guests were out shaking their groove thang to some serious old school dance music. One alluring disco diva in a skintight silver miniskirt even lured me out onto the dance floor, where we put a new spin on the music of the Me Generation, even as luscious Halle Berry and handsome hubby Eric Benet held court just steps from the dance floor.
Two “reserved” tables held the promise of more stars to come, with signs declaring “Thornton” (as in Billy Bob, whose Bandits was released by MGM) and “Witherspoon” (as in Reese, ditto her Legally Blonde), but alas, they and their respective star spouses–Angelina Jolie and Ryan Phillippe–failed to materialize, at least while I was there.
Something to Crowe About
I slipped downstairs to discover things were looking pretty gorgeous at the A Beautiful Mind extravaganza, in which the film’s two studio backers–Universal and DreamWorks–commandeered the nearby Trader Vic’s, one of the most venerable watering holes in Beverly Hills and among the earliest purveyors of Polynesian chic.
I was swept along in the wake of The West Wing’s Dule Hill and Ali’s Jamie Foxx and his entourage as I headed down the long corridor leading to the party, which was actually held in a massive tent outside the restaurant, and lo and behold: no mind was as beautiful as the departing army of blonde babes surrounding Playboy‘s hedonistic head honcho, Hugh Hefner. Hef’s comely crew wiggled, jiggled and giggled past me without major incident, and I’m still trying to decide if that’s something I should be pleased or disappointed about.
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Inside was the first genuine trophy winner of the night that I’d seen so far, director Robert Altman, who was holding court with a table full of followers, best director Golden Globe statuette in front of him and a cellular phone to his ear. As he chatted to whomever (let’s assume it was his agent, who must now be raising the veteran lenser’s salary), Altman–whom I interviewed right before his film Gosford Park opened and made such a splash with the Foreign Press Association–surprised me with nod of recognition, and I nodded in fealty to the man who made M*A*S*H.
Then, as I mingled in a crowd that included actress Andie MacDowell (love the dress, Andie, and love that plunging neckline even more), Jill Hennessy, producer Saul Zaentz and Rosie O’Donnell’s heir apparent Caroline Rhea, I immediately racked up my second encounter with a trophy-toter as Six Feet Under‘s Rachel Griffiths made her first appearance in the bash. I’d also met Griffiths while on the job recently, and now had a chance to stop and congratulate the Aussie stunner on her triumph in the best actress in a TV drama category.
But the real centerpiece of this bash was the night’s unrivaled King of Hollywood, one Mr. Russell Crowe, who had set up shop in a corner table with his new Golden Globe for best actor in a drama (his third in three years) in one hand and his sometimes-main squeeze, blonde and beautiful Danielle Spencer, in the other. The notoriously temperamental Crowe was in fine spirits indeed, and the drinks flowed freely as he entertained the crowd at his table before venturing out into the night–never losing his grip on either trophy.
Spicy salsa-infused dance tracks blared from the deejay’s turntable, accentuated by a host of live conga players beside the dance floor populated by sinuous starlets Jessica Cauffiel (Valentine), who helped redefine the word undulate for the new millennium, and craggy veterans like Gary Busey, who was definitely getting some kind of freak on. As I headed back up to the hotel lobby, I came across one more star on his way in, Ali‘s Jon Voight, who gave me a friendly nod and…patted my tummy as he passed me? OK then.
Lobbying with the Stars
Then it was back up to the lobby, where throngs of fans–most of whom were staying in the hotel and proudly flashed their keys to keep security guards from getting too bossy–avidly awaited an appearance by their favorite stars.
Somehow I found myself caught up in a final whirlwind of celebs: Tracey Ullman clowned around by the hotel’s wall fountain; Christian Slater tried to find the quickest way to the next party with his wife’s help; Ron Howard chatted with old associates; Debra Messing tried to keep security guards from stepping on her gown; Halle Berry grabbed a gift bag from the bash in the hotel’s Bulgari jewelry store; while Steven Tyler snarled at an almost-fan who called him “Mr. Jagger.”
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Carmen Electra flashed those awesome baby blues at admiring young female fans as fiance Dave Navarro waited patiently for her to finish posing; tall Christine Lahti admired Carmen’s compact curves; a very tired-looking Allison Janney hunted for her ride home; a very hot-looking James Gandolfini doffed his tux jacket as he left the HBO party by the pool; and an animated Ming-Na led her ER co-stars in pursuit of the ICM party.
David Schwimmer collected a goodie bag worth $7,000 at the Budget Rent-A-Car stand; Brittany Murphy talked a mile a minute as she party-hopped in her slinky sequined gown; Smallville‘s John Schneider tenderly kissed his wife as she rested her feet, while his co-star Tom Welling smiled for the teenage girls who squealed at him; and Caroline Rhea sweetly posed for photos and signed autographs for just about anyone who asked.
The power players partied on into the wee hours, proving that despite the appropriately somber mood of last fall’s Emmys, the stars are ready to let it all hang out for this awards season. And you can trust me; I’ve got the blisters from my too-tight dress shoes to prove it.
