PARTYING AT THE GOLDEN GLOBES : The Globes Show Is Hollywood’s Best Bash of the Year

Other than turning out blockbusters, Hollywood loves nothing more than throwing itself a party or honoring itself with an awards ceremony. Not only do these gatherings sell movie tickets (watch how quickly the ads change when the Oscars are announced March 30), but these evenings offer a kind of social reinforcement for the movie and TV fraternity.

Problem is, most of these nights are colossal bores. In the last five years, I’ve covered enough black-tie events so that just reaching for my tux brings back that same sinking feeling I used to get when my mother (with good intentions) dragged me to the Metropolitan Museum in New York: Your legs tire, your eyes glaze over, you start thinking about all the home runs you’ve hit in stickball.

Like everything else in this town, awards shows are subject to a hierarchy of their own with, of course, Oscar night being the big score. As awards shows go, the Golden Globes, given out by the, uh, unpredictable Hollywood Foreign Press Assn., are frankly, in another league.

But I’m here to tell ya’ what others may only whisper. The show is one of the most enjoyable parties of the year. Makes Oscar night look a Donny and Marie special. Because the awards don’t count quite as much, everyone relaxes; because the TV show is carried all over the world, there is this stew of stars on hand from the TV and movie worlds.

The surroundings have a lot to do with the atmosphere at the Globes. The show is held at the Beverly Hilton and everyone crams into 110 tables in the International Ballroom. This isn’t the formal theater seating of the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion for the Oscars or the Pasadena Civic Auditorium for the Emmys. At the Globes, there is food (usually some slab of beef and vegetables) and drink; table hopping is not only permitted, but endorsed. It feels like a party.

The tables are divided into camps, which gives the evening the look and feel of a giant high school mixer. Paramount, for example, has its executives and its stars at one table; Disney has its people at another. When nominees are announced, there is spirited competition to see which camp can make the most noise. (And whenever Cannon Films wins an award, it is always fun to watch Menahem Golan leap into partner Yoram Globus’ arms and attempt to start a standing ovation.)

One table that was jumping this year was 237. It featured not one, but all four of the Golden Girls together. When the show won the award for best TV series musical or comedy, the ladies excitedly hugging each other looked like they had just won the grand prize in the Lottery’s 6/49 game.)

Everybody just kicks back at this thing. When the big award of the night (“Platoon,” Best Picture, Drama) was announced, I happened to be standing at the back of the room next to director Oliver Stone’s young agent from the Creative Artists Agency, Mike Menchel. When Stone won, Menchel let out a joyous whoop and gave me a high five.

You just don’t do that at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.

People don’t dress the same way either. The outfits at the Globes are daring, loud and sometimes tacky. (The unwritten competition seems to be who can expose the most cleavage.) Last year my favorite was a woman who came in a black sequined New York Yankees jacket. This year Giorgio Moroder was wearing blaring red socks with his tuxedo and Whoopi Goldberg had on the custom-made Reeboks that she wears in the soon-to-be-released “Burglar.”

Highlight of the evening is the arrivals. An endless parade of stars walks down the red carpet from the hotel’s main entrance to the ballroom. As hotel guests look on, the paparazzi elbow one another for position and compete for the stars’ attention. One shouts, “Jane, that’s a great dress, can we get a better look?” (Translation: Look this way.) Or, “Morgan, introduce us to your date.” (Translation: “Get the guy out of the way so we can shoot you alone.”)

At the arrivals, you learn a lot about star power in the ‘80s. For the last two years the star who drew the biggest reaction as he stepped from his limousine was not some big screen mega-star but TV’s Tom Selleck. That says a great deal about the power and reach of TV: to most fans, Selleck is as big a star as Redford. But at the Globes such petty comparisons aren’t the important thing. This is an evening when Hollywood lays back.

After the awards, a lot of folks wander down to Trader Vic’s and continue celebrating over Samoan Fogcutters, Mai Tais and Coco shrimp. This year I spotted Mel Brooks in between mouthfuls of spare ribs. Brooks’ wife Anne Bancroft not only signed a fan’s program but talked with the young man for several minutes.

At 1:30 a.m., I was stuck in a long line of folks waiting to get out of the Hilton parking lot. Most of the celebrities had left long before, but there was one young girl with an inexpensive camera waiting wide-eyed at the entrance to the hotel. “Are there any more stars coming?” she wanted to know.

I told her to stake out the Directors Guild Awards.