When David O. Russell, the headlockin'est,newspaper-feudin'est director in town, ventured to Pixar's NorCal campus for a public chat with The Incredibles' Brad Bird on Friday, he obviously didn't spend too much time familiarizing himself with the studio's work. Russell made the mistake of invoking The Green Ogre That Shall Not Be Named, but somehow avoided being lynched by the crowd of animators. An attendee reports:
The Defamer Special Movie Premiere Food Critic's report from last night's Hotel Rwanda presentation caused us to ponder one of the industry's most pressing dilemmas: How much food does one order for a party following a movie about African genocide? Too little, and one risks a room full of disgruntled Academy voters with rumbling stomachs; too much, and the event becomes a glaring example of Hollywood excess. Luckily, such questions became moot when our critic's memories of the film's topical atrocities floated away in a river of chocolate.
The Corsair blog dutifully transcribes the minutes from the latest meeting of the Robert Evans and Brett Ratner Mutual Admiration Society. Fittingly, this new chapter in the unlikely love affair between the superannuated producer and überhack director unfolds in the pages of Interview magazine, the print media's only pure medium where celebrities can get together for orgies of admiring rimjobs, salad tossings, and mutual masturbation. In this excerpt, it's hard to tell if Evans is about to faint from the force of his own self-love, or if he can hold on long enough to be overwhelmed by Ratner's unabashed brown-nosing.
A reader snaps a photo of the Tomkat's latest offering, momentarily silencing the critics who insist that our city is bereft of culture. She also muses about the sequel that is sure to come (pun totally unintentional). "I haven’t actually seen it, but I would imagine that Vol. II clears up any confusion by the circular storyline introduced in Vol. I. SPOILER ALERT!!! Don’t read past this point if you plan on watching the movie. Bill gets drilled."
NYT Hollywood reporter Sharon Waxman's technique for getting insiders to dish for her new book, Rebels on the Backlot, has finally been revealed: the good ol' fashioned threat of sodomy.
The Curious Case of Julia Roberts' Premature Twins has been cracked wide open by that paragon of investigative journalism, the anonymous Craigslist poster:
Tagged onto the end of a NYT story describing director Wes Anderson's bid to bring his trademark quirkiness (read: small budget, small box office) to a mass audience (read: big budget, big box office) with The Life Aquatic is one studio executive's key to staying viable as an auteur in Hollywood:
· Viacom agrees to a $3.5 million buggering over outstanding indecency fines, which doesn't include the world of pain the FCC has yet to rain down over the Janet Jackson incident. To show his gratitude for the "settlement," Viacom co-president/future galactic emperor Les Moonves plans on leaving a severed breast left in FCC chairman Michael Powell's bed. And that's just for starters. [THR]
· The MPAA upholds the NC-17 rating on Pedro Almodovar's Bad Education because "they're just not into the gay sex thing." [THR]
· Robert Downey Jr. joins Tim Allen in the Shaggy Dog remake. We'll all understand if Downey falls off the wagon to get through this one. [Variety, sub. req'd.]
· Universal writes the names of all of its 2005 films on little pieces of paper, throws them up in the air, then reschedules their release dates according to where they land on a calendar on the floor. [Variety]
· Former Academy member Carmine Caridi fined $600K for pirating movie screeners. In addition to the severe financial penalty, the judge left open the possibility that MPAA pirate-hunter-at-large Jack Valenti can beat the bottom of Caridi's feet with bamboo sticks until he calls Valenti his "copyright daddy." [Variety]
In today's LAT piece on "Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About How a Movie Trailer Gets Shown at Your Local Theater, But Were Afraid To Ask," we were utterly unsurprised to discover that the same system of studio payoffs, favor-trading, and intimidation that marks day-to-day business in Hollywood also effects theater chains' choices in trailers. Most comforting is the revelation that these transactions are not immune from the time-honored industry ritual of a studio executive unleashing profanities at someone with a much smaller salary:
The Defamer special movie premiere food critic reports from last night's opening of Closer and the after-party at Spago. Among the night's culinary delights was that new avatar of Hollywood dessert table class, the chocolate fountain, which discerning freebie food-seekers stalk like Ponce de Leon through the marshes of Florida on his mission for eternal youth.
We've received yet another report of intrusive preview screening anti-piracy practices, this time hitting WGA members out for a night viewing Joel Schumacher's latest exploration of his mask fetish. We creep ever closer to the day where an affirmative answer to the question "Are you on the list?" is immediately followed up with a brusque, "Grab your ankles, and please don't yelp when you feel the cold latex."
A reader sends in yet another account of a paranoia-tinged screening. From the sound of last night's over-the-top security measures, it won't be long before the body-cavity search becomes a regular part of the preview experience—who knows what kind of recording equipment someone might have "accidentally" fallen on before the movie? We suggest viewers learn some anal Kegel exercises to prepare for this inevitability, with a self-administered, rubber glove dry-run in between sets.
· Hollywood's remake fever has jumped to a higher plane of pointlessness: Sam Raimi looks to remake his own well-loved, perfectly good (and not that old) movie, Evil Dead, with a new director. Why, Raimi, why? Has all of that Spider-Man cash finally driven you insane? [Variety, sub. req'd.]
· Bryan Singer and Vin Diesel get together...for a new video game franchise, Secret Service. Get your mind out of the gutter before someone from a red state starts reading your e-mail! [THR]
· Ali G creator/troublemaker Sacha Baron Cohen looks to play British comic book detective/degenerate aristocrat Charlie Mortdecai for Warner Bros. Interesting...but this in no way gets him off the hook for Borat: The Motion Picture. [THR]
· · Broadway out of ideas: Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick to continue their evil domination of all things theater in a revival of The Odd Couple. [Variety]
· Jessica Simpson will star in chick-lit adaptation Room Service. Thank God someone is finally ready to really let her talent breath on a movie screen. [Variety]
A reader reports that anti-piracy shock troops were stationed at last night's screening of Ocean's Twelve. The MPAA and studio need to be absolutely certain that this paean to the crackling chemistry between Brad Pitt and his abs doesn't get seen even a minute before its release date—viewers need to experience the longing glances at his own six-pack on the big screen, not hunched over a computer monitor.
A reader reports some bedlam at last night's Miramax screening of The Aviator, where a twenty-minute melee broke out and a barely-employed WGA member was stabbed for punching Dr. Dre and dissing The G-Unit. Oh, wait, that was the Vibe awards! We get confused sometimes. Still, a decimated Miramax again proves its recent gift for courting trouble by alienating many of the voters they hope to court with their patented end-of-year awards publicity binge. Naturally, we blame Harvey Weinstein.
The MPAA, shrewdly sensing that their customers desperately want to be sued to kill time in their empty lives while they await the next Spider-man sequel, launched the first wave of lawsuits against movie file-sharers yesterday. Way to go, MPAA! The music industry's similar lawsuits against their consumer base has ushered in a new Golden Age of CD sales, and we're sure that your adoption of their strategy will inevitably result in every American buying an average of two movie tickets per day.
A spy notifies us of a fire in the same building as Miramax's offices on Sunset Boulevard. Fortunately, it seems that Harvey's West Coast fiefdom escaped damage, allowing him to reserve the right to initiate any destruction within Miramax's walls. An e-mail tells the folks at the Max not to worry about the lingering stench:
