Peter Morgan's brilliant political play comes to the screen only this December, but an international trailer of Ron Howard's movie version has already hit Youtube. Frank Langella channels Richard Nixon after his retirement: he's bulkier than the disgraced president but captures Nixon's neediness and paranoia. David Frost—the oily British journalist who secured the first big interview after Nixon's resignation—is Michael Sheen. He's making a career out of these political roles: Sheen played Tony Blair in another Morgan project, The Queen.

When the "Tom Cruise in the future" movie Minority Report came out in 2002, everybody got all googly-moogly over the futuristic ad technology that recognized people's faces and tailored ads directly to them, instantly, as they walked through stores. Well slowly but surely that's all becoming a reality! The wonders of living in the future. Retailers are working on all types of technologies to "serve up ads based on the consumer's appearance." Hey, ugly: check it out! Dunkin Donuts is putting ad screens on its checkout and pickup areas telling you to buy things and come back soon, respectively. Some stores are sticking video screens on the shelves, which flash ads at you based on what item you pick up off the shelf. Which seems like it would quickly get annoying. But the creepiest is the effort to read your face:

Years before Rielle Hunter carried on a torrid and weird affair with John Edwards (and years after her presumably torrid and weird affair with Jay McInerney) she tried her hand at acting in the moving pictures. Here she is in her star turn as "lady who holds a microphone up to Denzel" in the classic film Ricochet. As far as we know, we're the first ones to track down and digitize this scene—and probably the first to watch the movie Ricochet since 1992 or so. (Well, we didn't watch it. But someone at the office had to!) Enjoy!

Okay, clearly I am going to milk this crush theme until I'm asking you all to post daguerrotypes of pre-Victorian stage performers and ballerinas. But we're not there yet! The 1960s is recent enough for all of us to have seen lots and lots of its movies and TV shows and to have developed childhood-or childlike-crushes on its many attractive stars. So, who's your fave? Mine after the jump. If you can pull yourself away from Michael Phelps for two minutes!

It takes a lot of people-and assorted creatures-to stage an epic war between the forces of good and evil that spans an entire galaxy. Sadly, most of the minor players are long forgotten thanks to scene stealers like Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, and Darth Vader. But these obscure warriors are being properly celebrated today. More after the jump.

Iron Man star Robert Downey Jr. will not be jumping from Marvel to D.C. anytime soon. In an interview with MovieHole.net to promote Tropic Thunder, the dashing actor fearlessly tore the ass off The Dark Knight and the comic empire behind it. "Didn't get it," he said, "still can't tell you what happened in the movie, what happened to the character and in the end they need him to be a bad guy. I'm like, 'I get it. This is so high brow and so fucking smart, I clearly need a college education to understand this movie.' You know what? Fuck DC comics. That's all I have to say and that's where I'm really coming from."

Our little end-of-the-day fun-fests have ignored the golden-er, black and white-age of movies and TV for far too long. We all know that many of the most important and memorable moments for both mediums occurred before the widespread use of color film kicked in, and before color film was even invented at all, for that matter. So let us celebrate our colorless faves this evening. I'll kick it off with the series that sent me to sleep every night as a kid.

Ironman was cool and everything, but some Hollywood limousine liberal film editor-who presumably was paid for his or her services!-cut out the most awesomely synergistic scene of all: the meeting of Tony Starks (Robert Downey, Jr.) and the other Tony Starks (Ghostface Killah). The full deleted Ghostface-Ironman-Dubai party scene is after the jump. I guess Raekwon was in the other room or something: Click to view

Pussy-smashing brew-guzzler and occasional blogger Tucker Max is hard at work on the Shreveport, Louisiana set of his comedic masterpiece film debut I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell. The ideal situation would obviously be for Tucker to produce, direct, star in, and cater the movie himself, but due to demands on his valuable time he's forced to take on lesser mortals as his assistants. One of whom, surprisingly, has now quit in disgust and forwarded along his story to us! After the jump, the sad tale of woe, abuse, and poop. But Tucker has a warning for you haters: "I didn't get where I am today by being a moron.": The young man was a Tucker fan, and quit a real job to go be a paid assistant on the set of Tucker's film, where we pick up his experiences:

Please, sit down and remove your Peterbilt hat: there's something you should know about the upcoming long-haul trucker documentary Drive and Deliver. Sure, the movie is heart-wrenching portrayal of the ups and downs of the trucking life-the long nights, the long days, the lengthy amount of time spent in a sitting position. But all those truck-porn shots of "the behemoth LoneStars, their chrome and oversize grilles gleaming brightly"? Bought and paid for, my friend. The movie is an ad. And maybe the most efficient product placement of all time! Drive and Deliver is directed by Brett Morgen, who also did The Kid Stays In The Picture. But the entire thing is a $5 million marketing scheme by truck maker Navistar International. So while there's a rich history of companies sponsoring their own shows (the "Colgate Variety Hour"), and a rich history of product placement in movies, the idea of bankrolling an entire documentary starring your own company's product gives twice the impact, in a more subtle fashion. First we got previews at the movies. Then we got ads at the movies. Then we got ads in the movies. Now we have movies that are ads. Well, at least our precious TV shows are safe from ads running during the show. No, they're not. [NYT, B&C. Related: I have a shiny nickel for anyone willing to go through NYT ad reporter Stuart Elliott's stories for the past year and see how many times he uses the phrase "branded entertainment." I bet the answer is "many."]

Dane Cook doesn't like the poster for his new movie! And to be fair to the unfunny and petulant comedian, it is terrible. The average heterosexual male would decline to see this movie based solely on the poster, even without knowing Dane Cook was in it. But the average heterosexual male who found themselves living Dane Cook's life would probably let it slide, secure in the thought that despite being (probably) Tucker Max's favorite entertainer, he was starring in movies with Kate Hudson and had a stable of college groupies. Dane Cook, however, took to his MySpace page with a 10-point letter of complaint about how the poster makes him look. Dude, you're totally making yourself sound like a metrosexual:

Tucker Max: blogger of beer and sluts, writer and producer of one of the least funny comedy movie scripts since Illegally Yours, and asshole in a dozen different ways. The most ridiculous of which is as the boss of his own mini-empire of blogs! And since last week, we've heard from several of his former Rudius Media employees, who expound on the gentle pleasures of working for one of America's foremost purveyors of racist poop jokes: He's a cheapskate. Last week we noted how Tucker scoffed at a former blogger who wondered why he only made $82 for six months of work. Other employees tell us the standard pay for Rudius bloggers is somewhere in the $80/ quarter range, with one noting "I got just a tiny bit more than that when my site was doing really well." Sweet. So Rudius must be making a lot of money. You work hard for the money. One Rudius employee was ordered by Tucker to move to a different, more expensive city because Tucker thought that they could better do their job elsewhere. Once the employee had gone to the trouble of packing up and moving and finding a new, more costly apartment, we hear, their pay was reduced to almost nothing. Which seems like the standard Rudius pay rate, now that we think of it. He's not popular with publishers. We hear that at least one book agent quit working with Tucker because he flaked out on book proposal deadlines. (Not true? Email us!) He's not popular with the bloggers that work for him at Rudius. The emails we've received from disgruntled bloggers alone are ample evidence of this. He attracts bloggers he's interested in with the promise of writing for a wider audience-though, as you can tell by their pay, not necessarily more money. But when bloggers tire of Rudius and leave the fold, we hear, they are bizarrely wiped from existence in Tucker Max's world:

Movie critic Elvis Mitchell (remember him? crazy-but-readable Times crit in those glorious pre-Manohla fucking Dargis days?) had $12,000 seized by U.S. border guards as he tried to go back home to Detroit from Canada. Mitchell was hiding the money in a cigar box, along with some Cubans, and he declared only $80. When asked by border agents why he had $12,000 in a cigar box, "Mr. Mitchell told the ICE agent the money in the cigar box represented money he (Mitchell) had withdrawn from bank automatic teller machines over a two year period." We're not sure how that explains anything, but there you go. Agents allowed Mitchell to keep $117 of the $300 he had in his wallet. He'll need that to get back to the Turner Classic Movie studios to interview Peter Bogdanovich, right? Excerpts from the criminal complaint attached.

Every hero needs a helper, and every bad guy needs a heavy. It's a long and storied tradition. Usually, they either get killed or they save the day. But these second bananas are essential to hundreds of movies and TV shows. And they deserve some respect! So please share your fave clips of these unsung wonders with us all. As always, I'll get us started with something obvious.

Really, what is a movie or a TV show without a bad guy or bad girl to hate and admire at the same time? Not much, says I. So, let's share our most beloved baddies this evening, shall we? You know, all those great characters that you just want to see die in pain and ill-repute, but you still have to admire them in some awful way. I'll get us started with a true total bastard.

Tucker Max, the "bet I can fuck this one-eyed chick in the bathroom after consuming 13 warm Coronas, bro" blogger and moviemaker-whose classic comedy movie script we excerpted for you this week-seems be an unpopular fellow, judging from the emails we receive around here. Considering the fact that he has built an "empire," ha, upon the stated foundation of being an asshole, it's not surprising. But it is getting a little hard to keep up. Today, we're going to give you a quick roundup of the various accusations against the man that have poured in to us. None of which are confirmed! Much like Tucker's own writing, they're just shit on the internet. Although several do seem to be in character for him:

Earlier this week we brought you damning evidence that the new Seth Rogen comedy Pineapple Express may have engaged in the shocking, unauthorized theft of a t-shirt design from a small Brooklyn company called WOWCH. The scandal now threatens to swamp the movie's marketing efforts like a tidal wave of justice. James Franco, the shifty long-haired actor who was the wearer of the shirt in question, took a brief break from seducing swooning women in order to stammer a denial of the crime's very existence:

You, the public, recently got to preview portions of the horrific (currently in production!) movie script for I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell, written by "Dude, I did 12 shots of Jamesons and totally puked on that chick's tits" bro-blogger Tucker Max. The primary question that arose afterwards was, "What kind of girl would go out with this asshole?" Well, ladies and gentlemen, we (purportedly) have an answer-with all of the "whores," bad sex, emotional manipulation, fried chicken, drunk driving, and, uh, other bad things that you would have imagined: A tipster forwarded us the following text, which they say is an entry that was deleted from Tucker Max's ex-girlfriend's blog. We don't follow the man's love life closely enough to know whether this is true, but the blog does have Tucker Max listed as its contact person. Portions of this post have been floating around the internet for some time now. That's our disclaimer. Now here's the alleged Tucker Max love experience:

From bro-blogger and aspiring Hollywood mogul Tucker Max's execrable movie script, p. 89: "TUCKER: I am going to hit it so hard, whoever pulls me out of you will become King of England." From Overheard In New York: "Guy #1: I'd totally hit that. Guy #2: Dude, I'd hit that so hard whoever could pull me out would become the King of England." Plagiarism, a sign of Tucker's fame, or just a widespread expression? Either way, it was only funny once. [Previously]

Yesterday, while we were bravely posting traumatic excerpts of the script to Tucker Max's I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell, the brah-blogger's peeps sent out an electronic casting call for the film. Perhaps we judged Max too harshly, unaware as we were of the high acting standards to which he will hold whoever plays "Jade," referred to in the script as "The Large Titted Woman Who Is Turned On By Being An Object." To look at the cast being assembled, one can't help but conclude that Beer In Hell will be a shoo-in for a coveted Best Feature Film Involving Midget Blowjobs Oscar. Here's what they're looking for in the way of exotic dancers (emphasis from the original, naturally):