Owen Cooper, Teyana Taylor, and K-pop Idols Ignite the Golden Globes

Olivia Bennett, 1/12/2026Hollywood’s rowdiest night crowned TikTok teens, podcasting queens, and K-pop demon slayers—proving the future is layered, unpredictable, and dazzling. The Golden Globes raised a toast to reinvention, with wit, glamour, and audacious new icons rewriting the red carpet rulebook.

This year’s most unlikely center-stage moment belonged to Owen Cooper. Imagine: one year you're plotting a route to Premier League stardom, the next, you’re on a velvet sofa sculpturesque in its discomfort, clutching a Golden Globe. Cooper startled the industry’s inner circle—not because he’d been prophesied by a viral TikTok, nor thanks to some parental foot in the door, but courtesy of a last-minute detour into drama classes. “I don’t know where it came from,” he admitted, sidestepping the usual practiced speech. Parents, take note: not every overnight success is sprung from streaming algorithms or Hollywood lineage; sometimes, the spotlight lands where nobody expects, even in a room full of critics quietly suspecting they’ve seen it all.

But the evening didn’t simply belong to baby-faced disruptors. Tension ran beneath the surface—a sense of something real churning under the sequined pageantry. Host Nikki Glaser wasted no time sharpening her tongue, tossing barbs about Leo DiCaprio’s notorious girlfriend rotation before riffing on the fate of Warner Bros. The laughter? Less belly, more brittle, as if the industry momentarily recognized the ground shifting under its feet and decided to just tipple a bit harder. If anything, the mood blended self-mockery and earnestness, actors and artists stepping up with both pins and platitudes. Those “Be Good” and “ICE Out” pins flashed under cameras—it was activism, or at least the closest thing awards-night sparkle permits.

Then came Teyana Taylor, whose name resounded with unusual gravity after she collected her trophy for that stormy turn in Paul Thomas Anderson’s “One Battle After Another.” There’s resilient glamour, and then there’s Taylor’s brand of fearless sincerity: “Our light does not need permission to shine…” The phrase seemed suspended beneath the ballroom’s glow, catching even the most jaded publicist a little off guard. Could it be that, for a fleeting moment, sincerity trumped self-congratulation?

Stellan Skarsgård, Hollywood’s most sardonic Scandinavian, drifted up in tailored nonchalance to accept his own Globe. Seventy-four and entirely unfazed by trends or timelines, he quipped he was “too old” to win. That’s the rub: in a business often obsessed with youth, Skarsgård’s victory was as much about survival as it was about artistic evolution. A standing ovation—one of those rare ones where people genuinely forget to check their phones—suggested there’s still reverence for the long haul.

Podcasts, those chaotic havens of personal confessions and laughter that echo from smartphone speakers, formally took their spot on Hollywood’s marble pedestal. Amy Poehler, a comedic institution in her own right, snagged the very first Best Podcast prize with the kind of timing only she could deliver. Snoop Dogg, presenting, completed the fever dream. Could anyone have predicted, even a few years ago, that a podcast would rank—publicly—alongside film and TV in the awards pecking order? Maybe it’s about time the institutions played catch-up with the audiences they once led.

Much later, the night tipped over into something almost surreal (well, even more so) thanks to the feverish energy around “KPop Demon Hunters.” With the kind of numbers that make Netflix bean-counters do cartwheels—325 million global views, give or take—the film didn’t just win. It blazed. Maggie Kang and her co-conspirators, uncertain at first whether their genre-raiding adventure would land, ended up opening the ballroom’s doors for a fresher, bolder wave of storytellers. “We’re hoping this film opens more doors…” That kind of statement has been said before, of course. Yet here, it rang truer, supported by fan legions and hard, impossible-to-ignore success metrics.

And when the party staggered to its close, and the last whispered pitch faded into the velvet drapes, what actually stuck? Not just the spectacle (though, let’s not kid—there’s nothing quite like couture trailing the red carpet past midnight), but a sense that the Globes, for all their tradition of mischief, have turned a corner. The new landscape isn’t a blank slate; it’s an unpredictable layer cake. Maybe mille-feuille is the better reference—every stratum concealed in anticipation of the next unexpected flavor. From newly-minted ingenues to battle-scarred legends, from soundproof studios to streaming obsessions, Hollywood’s patchwork has never been more obvious.

It’s tempting, as always, to write off the Globes as an ornate party that fades with the hangover. Yet this year, there’s something durable in the message: the future will arrive whether tradition likes it or not, and the smart ones will welcome the chaos. The red carpet’s new story is still being written—sometimes clumsily, sometimes brilliantly, but always, unmistakably, out loud.

The Golden Globes rolled out their notoriously decadent welcome beneath Beverly Hills chandeliers—the sort that have seen more confessions, missteps, and comebacks than half of daytime television. Champagne hiccupped to the top of supermodel flutes. Expectations? Vaulted, perhaps even a little nervous—after all, the room was coming to terms with an identity in flux. In 2025, Old Hollywood isn’t dead; it’s just found new company alongside teenagers with unexpected talent and podcasters fresh from their kitchen setups.This year’s most unlikely center-stage moment belonged to Owen Cooper. Imagine: one year you're plotting a route to Premier League stardom, the next, you’re on a velvet sofa sculpturesque in its discomfort, clutching a Golden Globe. Cooper startled the industry’s inner circle—not because he’d been prophesied by a viral TikTok, nor thanks to some parental foot in the door, but courtesy of a last-minute detour into drama classes. “I don’t know where it came from,” he admitted, sidestepping the usual practiced speech. Parents, take note: not every overnight success is sprung from streaming algorithms or Hollywood lineage; sometimes, the spotlight lands where nobody expects, even in a room full of critics quietly suspecting they’ve seen it all.But the evening didn’t simply belong to baby-faced disruptors. Tension ran beneath the surface—a sense of something real churning under the sequined pageantry. Host Nikki Glaser wasted no time sharpening her tongue, tossing barbs about Leo DiCaprio’s notorious girlfriend rotation before riffing on the fate of Warner Bros. The laughter? Less belly, more brittle, as if the industry momentarily recognized the ground shifting under its feet and decided to just tipple a bit harder. If anything, the mood blended self-mockery and earnestness, actors and artists stepping up with both pins and platitudes. Those “Be Good” and “ICE Out” pins flashed under cameras—it was activism, or at least the closest thing awards-night sparkle permits.Then came Teyana Taylor, whose name resounded with unusual gravity after she collected her trophy for that stormy turn in Paul Thomas Anderson’s “One Battle After Another.” There’s resilient glamour, and then there’s Taylor’s brand of fearless sincerity: “Our light does not need permission to shine…” The phrase seemed suspended beneath the ballroom’s glow, catching even the most jaded publicist a little off guard. Could it be that, for a fleeting moment, sincerity trumped self-congratulation?Stellan Skarsgård, Hollywood’s most sardonic Scandinavian, drifted up in tailored nonchalance to accept his own Globe. Seventy-four and entirely unfazed by trends or timelines, he quipped he was “too old” to win. That’s the rub: in a business often obsessed with youth, Skarsgård’s victory was as much about survival as it was about artistic evolution. A standing ovation—one of those rare ones where people genuinely forget to check their phones—suggested there’s still reverence for the long haul.Podcasts, those chaotic havens of personal confessions and laughter that echo from smartphone speakers, formally took their spot on Hollywood’s marble pedestal. Amy Poehler, a comedic institution in her own right, snagged the very first Best Podcast prize with the kind of timing only she could deliver. Snoop Dogg, presenting, completed the fever dream. Could anyone have predicted, even a few years ago, that a podcast would rank—publicly—alongside film and TV in the awards pecking order? Maybe it’s about time the institutions played catch-up with the audiences they once led.Much later, the night tipped over into something almost surreal (well, even more so) thanks to the feverish energy around “KPop Demon Hunters.” With the kind of numbers that make Netflix bean-counters do cartwheels—325 million global views, give or take—the film didn’t just win. It blazed. Maggie Kang and her co-conspirators, uncertain at first whether their genre-raiding adventure would land, ended up opening the ballroom’s doors for a fresher, bolder wave of storytellers. “We’re hoping this film opens more doors…” That kind of statement has been said before, of course. Yet here, it rang truer, supported by fan legions and hard, impossible-to-ignore success metrics.And when the party staggered to its close, and the last whispered pitch faded into the velvet drapes, what actually stuck? Not just the spectacle (though, let’s not kid—there’s nothing quite like couture trailing the red carpet past midnight), but a sense that the Globes, for all their tradition of mischief, have turned a corner. The new landscape isn’t a blank slate; it’s an unpredictable layer cake. Maybe mille-feuille is the better reference—every stratum concealed in anticipation of the next unexpected flavor. From newly-minted ingenues to battle-scarred legends, from soundproof studios to streaming obsessions, Hollywood’s patchwork has never been more obvious.It’s tempting, as always, to write off the Globes as an ornate party that fades with the hangover. Yet this year, there’s something durable in the message: the future will arrive whether tradition likes it or not, and the smart ones will welcome the chaos. The red carpet’s new story is still being written—sometimes clumsily, sometimes brilliantly, but always, unmistakably, out loud.