Mickey Rourke's paycheck: less than 1/3 of Charlie Sheen's. [/film]

The Informers features the nuttiest Sundance cast this side of Push: Billy Bob Thornton, Mickey Rourke, the late Brad Renfro, Winona Ryder, and, of course, Amber Heard's breasts. So what went wrong?

Finally, Mickey Rourke has met his romantic match: Bai Ling, an actress/red carpet fixture/visionary who has the ability to look at two lanyards of approximate nipple-width, then use them as a blouse.

• Naomi Campbell has settled a lawsuit by a former maid who alleged the world's most temperamental supermodel threw her phone at her head after she failed to find a pair of misplaced jeans back in 2006. [NYDN]
• Casey Johnson and Courtenay Semel appear to have made up following their violent brawl. They're heading to Sundance together. [P6]
• Guy Ritchie spent time at Madonna's apartment on Tuesday. Not because they're reconciling, but because Madonna's daughter Lourdes insisted on it. [NYDN]
• George Soros has a new "friend," a model 50 years his junior named Kate Gibbs. This is what she looks like, just in case you're curious. [P6]
• Book agent and man-about-town Luke Janklow and his wife, Sweetiepie owner Julie Janklow, appear to be headed for divorce. [P6]

Misshapen comeback kid Mickey Rourke's been on an upswing since his Golden Globe win, but the real drama is whether he can he stay out of his own way until the Oscars finally get here.

There's been plenty of talk about celebrity decadence at various Golden Globes-themed parties. But one trusted tipster caught a glimpse of the dark side of Hollywood amid the awards-show buzz.

The Golden Globes' return to boozy, teary prime-time glory asked almost as many awards-season questions as it answered. After the jump: Five of our most burning inquiries.

Mickey Rourke got the finger, Kate Winslet dissed Angelina Jolie and Tracy Morgan proclaimed himself the new face of America. Everyone was especially coarse and punchy.

Was it a violin string snapping? The long, low moan of a siren? What was it—what sound, what feeling—that told us that Katie Holmes was leaving New York?

No one leaves the Critics Choice Awards empty-handed, especially not when he's having a year like Mickey Rourke's. We're just surprised to learn where he keeps his runner-up prize.

Mickey Rourke isn't waiting until Oscar night—and the promise of shiny gold hardware he can drunkenly threaten to sodomize Sean Penn with at the Governor's Ball—to start capitalizing on his newfound Hollywood clout.

Mickey Rourke has signed on for Sylvester Stallone's The Expendables, joining Jason Statham, Jet Li, Forest Whitaker and (ahem) Dolph Lundgren in a testosterrific tough-guy ensemble. Which leads us to ask: Can this possibly suck?

Mickey Rourke can't give himself a break. He finally mounts a comeback with The Wrestler—they're talking Oscar...nomination—but he has to go and ruin it by starting shit with his main competition, Milk's Sean Penn.

As this year's Best Actor race begins to winnow down toward a Mickey Rourke/Sean Penn face-off, Rourke has cleverly masked his one misstep—calling a journalist a "faggot"—by casting texted aspersions toward his rival.

Welcome back to Defamer Attractions, your guide to everything new, noteworthy and/or potentially toxic at the movies. This week: Will Smith is bad, Jim Carrey is affirmative, and Mickey Rourke takes a beating for Oscar.

Despite his better judgment, Adrien Brody hasn't given up on the interview circuit, sharing the first of his shameless, wholly partial Oscar picks and remembrances at last night's premiere of his new film Cadillac Records.

Let's face it: The Wrestler wouldn't be a real Mickey Rourke comeback unless he did it the hardest way possible. Take a beating for your art? Check. Drop an anti-gay slur on camera? Check. And, as of Sunday, embellish your life story in the New York Times? Alas, check.

You've read the raves. You've seen the clip. You've heard the whole motivational speech about blowing one's brains out. And finally, with less than a month remaining before the Mickey Rourke Comeback Explosion pulverizes American moviegoers, you can have a look at the trailer for The Wrestler. Interweaving Rourke's bedraggled mug with strip joints and Springsteen, the spot feels as much the marketing equivalent of the New Jersey state flag as it does a movie promo, but in the end that's just a fraction of its appeal. Ultimately this is the working man's Oscar bait, with a few well-timed pull quotes to reassure any skittish elites that they, too, are qualified to partake. At least until the Necrobutcher sequence, and then then you're on your own. [Fox Searchlight]

He may require enlightening in matters of gay-community relations, but no one can accuse Mickey Rourke of anything less than slavish devotion to canine-rights causes. We hear the Oscar hopeful took his beloved free-range chihuahua Loki to the Four Seasons last week, where an eagle-eyed, bat-eared Defamer operative caught what may be the tenderest interspecies mating ritual ever witnessed in the Hollywood wild:

Over the weekend, Mickey Rourke and Evan Rachel Wood demonstrated markedly different ways of attacking rumors about a romance blossoming from their deep, combustible chemistry on The Wrestler. You probably don't need the accompanying video to know which one played the "Tell that faggot who wrote all that shit in the paper I'd like to break his fucking legs" card versus the other party's "We are proud of the film we made together and I hope people will focus on the film and not get distracted by any nonsense," but just in case any ambiguity persists, let it be clear: Rourke has been and always will be a one-woman-at-the-Chevron kind of guy. Period.