Breaking news: the IFP Gotham Awards will now be called The Gothams. Kicking off the awards season, this week’s celebration of “indie” or lower budget films managed to recreate the Gotham experience, seating guests at their packed tables in the cavernous Cipriani Wall Street, virtually, of course. Sipping my wine, I could kibbitz with fellow journalists. Let us say, no one was commenting on the celebrities’ gowns, glitz, or hairdos. For the occasion, I did wear makeup—and a sweater over yoga pants (not pajamas) instead of my usual cocktail dress. I did not work the room, but I enjoyed the experience of seeing Cadillac Escalades occupy the space, along with a few lone well-distanced high-rise tables near a stage with red velvet curtains. Elegance was maintained. I could see that I was not alone feeling out the possibilities. Early on, when the Best Documentary award went to two films, A Thousand Cuts and Time, onlookers heard the winners mutter, “I don’t see anyone. This is weird.” Alone in a room, we were not alone.