Amy Poehler’s Podcast Triumph and Cynthia Erivo’s Absence Stir Golden Globes Drama

Mia Reynolds, 1/12/2026Amy Poehler's historic win for Best Podcast at the Golden Globes marks a shift in recognition for the medium, blending nostalgia with innovation. Meanwhile, Cynthia Erivo's absence due to her demanding role in a new Dracula production adds a poignant layer to the celebratory night, highlighting the complex nature of recognition in the industry.

Amy Poehler claimed the inaugural Best Podcast trophy—an accolade that, frankly, has been a long time coming for an industry that’s become the world’s favorite confessional booth. “Good Hang,” her podcast, isn’t just another celebrity gabfest vying for ears; its victory felt both personal and epochal, as if every listener pressing play in their kitchen had been granted a seat at the table. Poehler’s acceptance was almost mischievously perfect. “Big fans of all of you, except for NPR. Just a bunch of celebs phoning it in. Try harder,” she teased, setting the room alight with laughter right out of the gate. Before the applause had a chance to fade, she softened—“This is an attempt to make a very rough and unkind world a little more loving, a little more joyful... laughing with people, not at them.” The room, for a blink, collectively exhaled.

As for who handed Poehler her moment? No less than Snoop Dogg himself, a pairing so odd and yet so right. Poehler remarked backstage, deadpan, “Snoop Dogg handing me a podcast trophy—exactly how I pictured the rest of my life.” In a business forever hungry for novelty, there’s a certain poetry when irony and sincerity bump elbows (or in this case, dap hands) under gilded chandeliers.

Recognition of podcasts at this level—official, weighty, with all the trimmings of legacy—changes the landscape. Helen Hoehne, Golden Globes president, put it plainly: podcasts now knit together stories and communities across borders, across generations. It’s no secret that the best of them can snag your emotions with the intimacy of a late-night phone call or a rambling heart-to-heart at a kitchen table. This year, those voices—sometimes messy, sometimes urgent, always unfiltered—got their gold-plated due.

Yet, as spotlights swiveled between old guard and upstarts, another story quietly lingered at the edge of the celebration. Cynthia Erivo—first Black woman ever to snare two Best Actress noms in a musical or comedy—missed the ball entirely. Not for lack of interest, but because she was half a world away, about to transform into no fewer than twenty-three characters (yes, twenty-three) for a beastly new Dracula production in London. “I’m absolutely petrified,” she admitted to Wonderland, exhaustion and excitement tangled in her voice. “Maybe it’s sadistic, but I can’t wait. It’s insane, and I fought it. But here I am.” A confession more raw than any acceptance speech.

To think that Erivo’s Elphaba in “Wicked: For Good” had all the makings of a shoo-in—jaw-dropping presence, a performance so charged it practically shorted out the lighting grid. And yet, she spent awards season orbiting the main event, weathering a trickle of nods but not the surge everyone forecast. Her co-star, Ariana Grande, was having none of it. Speaking to Variety, Grande’s praise dizzied into defiance: “Cynthia’s Elphaba is the most truthful, vulnerable, and fierce we’ve seen—and generations will say the same, no matter what statues get handed out.” The kind of testimonial publicists can only wish for.

Awards nights, viewed up close, can get weirdly high-school in nature—most likely to succeed, best smile, only with lobster tails and more urgent Instagramming. There’s always the brilliant kid whose photo gets left out of the yearbook, the friend who should’ve gotten a shout-out but sits quietly in the balcony, if anywhere at all. Recognition’s a fickle beast, isn’t it? Sometimes those who skip the party are the ones still talked about years later.

All told, the 2026 Globes managed to feel both familiar and restless, frenzied and a bit reflective. A brand-new Best Podcast award, a first-of-its-kind toast to overlooked creative voices, went hand-in-hand with gentle barbs and inside jokes, candid texts between exes, and admiration sent across oceans. The ghosts of deserving nominees—those who sculpt culture in the dark, who show up whether or not the cameras do—seemed to hover just out of frame, invisible but undeniable.

What remains when the afterparty lights dim? Maybe it’s not just about winning, or even showing up. It might be the sideways hugs, the jittery confessions, applause for someone who couldn’t make it, and inside jokes that only grow funnier with time. If the Globes are evolving, maybe 2026 will be remembered less for the trophies and more for the moments that shimmered around them—unexpected, a little chaotic, unmistakably human.

On a Los Angeles evening thick with anticipation—one of those nights when the city can’t quite decide between old Hollywood glamour and the new rules of entertainment—the Beverly Hilton’s ballroom thrummed with a curious mix of tradition and disruption. Sequins glittered, cell phones buzzed under linen-draped tables, and somewhere, the scent of cologne warred with chilled champagne. The Golden Globes had decided to throw the doors even wider. For the first time, podcasts were no longer the afterthought—tucked away on someone’s commute, misunderstood by parents still puzzled by the word “stream.” Awards history, it seems, no longer wears just a red carpet. Tonight, it strolled in with headphones, a Spotify badge, and plenty of attitude.Amy Poehler claimed the inaugural Best Podcast trophy—an accolade that, frankly, has been a long time coming for an industry that’s become the world’s favorite confessional booth. “Good Hang,” her podcast, isn’t just another celebrity gabfest vying for ears; its victory felt both personal and epochal, as if every listener pressing play in their kitchen had been granted a seat at the table. Poehler’s acceptance was almost mischievously perfect. “Big fans of all of you, except for NPR. Just a bunch of celebs phoning it in. Try harder,” she teased, setting the room alight with laughter right out of the gate. Before the applause had a chance to fade, she softened—“This is an attempt to make a very rough and unkind world a little more loving, a little more joyful... laughing with people, not at them.” The room, for a blink, collectively exhaled.As for who handed Poehler her moment? No less than Snoop Dogg himself, a pairing so odd and yet so right. Poehler remarked backstage, deadpan, “Snoop Dogg handing me a podcast trophy—exactly how I pictured the rest of my life.” In a business forever hungry for novelty, there’s a certain poetry when irony and sincerity bump elbows (or in this case, dap hands) under gilded chandeliers.Recognition of podcasts at this level—official, weighty, with all the trimmings of legacy—changes the landscape. Helen Hoehne, Golden Globes president, put it plainly: podcasts now knit together stories and communities across borders, across generations. It’s no secret that the best of them can snag your emotions with the intimacy of a late-night phone call or a rambling heart-to-heart at a kitchen table. This year, those voices—sometimes messy, sometimes urgent, always unfiltered—got their gold-plated due.Yet, as spotlights swiveled between old guard and upstarts, another story quietly lingered at the edge of the celebration. Cynthia Erivo—first Black woman ever to snare two Best Actress noms in a musical or comedy—missed the ball entirely. Not for lack of interest, but because she was half a world away, about to transform into no fewer than twenty-three characters (yes, twenty-three) for a beastly new Dracula production in London. “I’m absolutely petrified,” she admitted to Wonderland, exhaustion and excitement tangled in her voice. “Maybe it’s sadistic, but I can’t wait. It’s insane, and I fought it. But here I am.” A confession more raw than any acceptance speech.To think that Erivo’s Elphaba in “Wicked: For Good” had all the makings of a shoo-in—jaw-dropping presence, a performance so charged it practically shorted out the lighting grid. And yet, she spent awards season orbiting the main event, weathering a trickle of nods but not the surge everyone forecast. Her co-star, Ariana Grande, was having none of it. Speaking to Variety, Grande’s praise dizzied into defiance: “Cynthia’s Elphaba is the most truthful, vulnerable, and fierce we’ve seen—and generations will say the same, no matter what statues get handed out.” The kind of testimonial publicists can only wish for.Awards nights, viewed up close, can get weirdly high-school in nature—most likely to succeed, best smile, only with lobster tails and more urgent Instagramming. There’s always the brilliant kid whose photo gets left out of the yearbook, the friend who should’ve gotten a shout-out but sits quietly in the balcony, if anywhere at all. Recognition’s a fickle beast, isn’t it? Sometimes those who skip the party are the ones still talked about years later.All told, the 2026 Globes managed to feel both familiar and restless, frenzied and a bit reflective. A brand-new Best Podcast award, a first-of-its-kind toast to overlooked creative voices, went hand-in-hand with gentle barbs and inside jokes, candid texts between exes, and admiration sent across oceans. The ghosts of deserving nominees—those who sculpt culture in the dark, who show up whether or not the cameras do—seemed to hover just out of frame, invisible but undeniable.What remains when the afterparty lights dim? Maybe it’s not just about winning, or even showing up. It might be the sideways hugs, the jittery confessions, applause for someone who couldn’t make it, and inside jokes that only grow funnier with time. If the Globes are evolving, maybe 2026 will be remembered less for the trophies and more for the moments that shimmered around them—unexpected, a little chaotic, unmistakably human.