I Tried to Do Logies Interviews and All I Got Were Cries for Help from Local Celebrities

When someone offers you a media pass to the 56th Annual TV Week Logie Awards, you say yes. The Logies, you know? The goddamn Logies. You don't get to breathe the same air as Sonia Kruger every day. I hadn't been to a Crown casino complex since attending a university ball five years ago, where I threw up next to a prominent Young Liberal. The night was tinged with regret before it had even begun, so obviously I was eager to lean in and make the most of it.

The Logies, as we know, are shambolic in all the best ways. If you're not blind drunk when accepting your award for portraying a beloved fictional doctor, you're doing it wrong. People swear on stage, there are impromptu singalongs, and the ceremony drags on for more than four hours. Dave Hughes, or someone like him, hosts. There is usually a "viral gaffe" or two. But I wasn't invited to the ceremony, just the red carpet—which was actually a lot fancier and classier and slicker than I'd expected. Say what you want about Crown, but they sure know how to construct an impressive-looking fountain.

Sadly, the illusion was shattered when a mostly-naked man covered in gold body paint appeared out of nowhere about twenty minutes after I arrived, flanked by two dancing little people in silver body paint.

To pass the time before the celebrity guests arrived, I talked to some fans who were gathered in a small and polite group behind a nearby barricade. Eighteen-year-olds Ruby and Abi were staying for a night at Crown in the hope of "just seeing some famous people", and explained that if you turn up a little ahead of the ceremony, you can obtain a free Logies visitor wristband that grants essentially the same amount of red carpet access I was getting with my media accreditation. The Logies really is the people's award show. "We thought it would be hard, so we got here at 5AM," Ruby said. "But actually it's super easy."

The fans were chill. One man I met was just stopping by before going to the footy—he was wearing a signed Hawthorn guernsey. Just one lone woman was stanning for James Blunt, the evening's imported musical guest. "I've loved him always," she told me.

Music began to play at this point, signalling the arrival of celebrities on the carpet. I retreated back to my allocated interviewing position. To give you an idea of where VICE fell in the media pecking order, I'd been placed next to some nice reporters from a community newspaper. But the sense of camaraderie among non-TV journalists was pleasant. We were B-listers among B-listers, and it felt good, it felt right. I watched on, mesmerised, as a woman from SBS created endless Boomerang videos of herself twirling in an evening gown in front of a giant gold Logie statue. She was making the most of a surreal situation—we all were.

When the stars began to slowly descend, the first thing I noticed was that many of the women were wearing all-over body glitter. The vibe was very "Year 11 Formal at a private girls school". Everyone was so very, very blonde. The second thing I noticed was the overpowering smell of Richard Wilkins' cologne.

An abridged list of some demi-famous people who callously refused to talk to me on the red carpet: Hamish and Andy, Grant Denyer, Shelley Craft, Osher Gunsberg, Molly Meldrum, Delta Goodrem, several Bachelors, and all the talent from The Block. Every rejection was painful, but being shut down by Osher probably stung the most. I would go so far as to describe the feeling as a "career low".

I did, however, snag exactly one Real Housewife. As you might expect, the Housewives were in high demand, so speaking to Jackie Gillies—wife of Silverchair's Ben Gillies—was a coup. She had this to say: "I love the Logies. It's a piss up!" It was a sentiment echoed by many; approachable everywoman Myf Warhurst was also "fanging for a drink."

While most stars were hyped, some were existential. Todd Sampson, sex symbol of the advertising world, appeared deeply traumatised by the entire red carpet experience. I don't know what happened to him before he reached me, but I'm guessing something to do with Mama Mia. "I'm an introvert, so this is not my place," he told me sombrely. Was he having a bad time, then, at television's night of nights? "A bad time is being on the front line in Iraq. This—well, this is just awkward."

Next up was Natalie Bassingthwaite, of Neighbours and Rogue Traders fame.
As a Logies veteran, I asked her what she wished more people knew about the ceremony. "That there's so much preparation involved, skin stuff and hair stuff," she said. Had she been through this process herself? "Absolutely! Lots of exercise, lasers on my skin, all of those amazing things," she told me with sincere enthusiasm.

When James Blunt approached, I alerted him to the desperate situation happening on the other side of the carpet. "I've been looking for my fan!", he said. "It is sad that I had to travel to Australia to find her." What I learned about James Blunt during our short two minutes together is that he maybe hates himself quite a lot, which is sad. I told him how I just think that in a world where we accept Ed Sheeran as a viable musical artist, we can accept James Blunt too. "You're very kind," he told me. "Are you going to the after party?"

My greatest and perhaps only journalistic success of the night was interviewing Australia's Wokest Bae, Waleed Aly. Unfortunately my sharehouse doesn't have a television, so viral Facebook videos of Aly deconstructing Australia's endemic racism have been my only experience of The Project. I took the opportunity to ask him what else usually happens on the show.

"Peter Helliar says hilarious things, we do news packages, and interviews off the back of those packages," he explained generously. "The television format is very flexible. Basically it's talking and pictures and lots of graphics, that's the broad sweep of what we do."

There was a lull in celebrities at this point. The carpet was closing, the ceremony about to begin. In the distance, I spotted the cast of Better Homes and Gardens, and immediately knew what I had to do. A brief word with a wandering publicist and I was interviewing home handyman Jason Hodges. "I've had one beer and one lemonade so far, which if you put it together equals two shandies," he told me, a little confusingly. "So I'm still sober but hoping to amend that." Jason explained that Better Homes was nominated for an award but faced stiff competition from newer, hipper rival The Living Room. "Don't worry, I've never even heard of that show," I told him, truthfully. Unfortunately, The Living Room went on to win.

When the carpet closed, I was at a bit of a loss. Security was lax, so I wandered aimlessly backstage for a while, watching Tina Arena and Chrissie Swan enjoy an animated conversation from a polite distance. I sat on a replica The Voice seat, enjoyed a complimentary spritz of Delta Goodrem's newly-released perfume (available now from Chemist Warehouse), and chatted to some seat fillers. Two of them, Alison and Jael, were veterans. Alison does all the spray tanning for Channel Nine. "Just through that I became friends with the producer," she explained. "So that's how we got invited."

Alison heavily implied that she'd mingled with some TV industry heavyweights in her time. "They're just like anyone else, very down to earth," she observed.

She was right. The stars of the Logies are surely the most accessible in the world—all of them, with the possible exception of Todd Sampson, just happy to be there. Just stoked to be included. I'm sure there is some observation to be made here about the slow death of network TV and rise of streaming services, or the weird lack of ambition in Australia's arts scene, our national tendency to celebrate mediocrity. On the other hand, it was fun and VICE would really like to receive media accreditation again next year. Thanks for having us!

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