Hello! magazine reports that gangsta-rapping starlet Natalie Portman stopped by Columbia University on Monday to give an undergraduate lecture on counterterrorism. She went to Harvard, you know, which means she's in the position to educate the children of the lesser ivies on all matters of international import. Writes a student:
David Edelstein, New York's new film critic, and his Park Slope neighbor, NPR's Brooke Gladstone. It was that kind of night.
For years now, Entertainment Weekly has been throwing New York's big fancy Oscar-night party for big fancy Oscar-night people. It's at Elaine's, of course, and it attracts old-Hollywood types who aren't old-Hollywood enough actually be in Hollywood. (Last year, at its 11th annual shindig, the mag boasted of attendees Joan Collins, Liza Minnelli, and Tony Danza.)
But now the newly upstart New York magazine, as part of what seems to be editor Adam Moss's plan to colonize as much of the celebrimedia world as possible, is throwing a rival party.
• Why is it that one of the most powerful women in the world is still doing interviews about her weight, diet, and workout regime? Because her triceps are fucking awesome, that's why. [Wonkette]
• For their 10th anniversary issue, Fast Company loses their mind and lets photographer Phil Toledo disturb the hell out of everyone. Babies may be cute, but baby-suits are not. [Young Manhattanite]
• Our globe-trotting brother at Gridskipper is looking for some sacrificial virgins for internships. Go forth and impress the hell out of him. [Gridskipper]
• NBC White House correspondent David Gregory never calls Don Imus without first enjoying a nice glass of Alize. [Drudge]
• Coinciding with the release of the film version of The Da Vinci Code is its corresponding porn video, The Da Vinci Load. Considering both star Tom Hanks, it'll be tough to choose which to see first. [Book Standard]
• Live MSNBC facing death? [TMZ]
• Deconstructing the HuffPo scholarship. [Snarksmith]
• Smokey Fontaine takes over the helm at Giant; Robert Goulet to assume managing duties. And then there's a rumored merger with Complex, which would be cool just for the sake of having a magazine called Giant Complex. It'd be a must read for everyone in media. [Mediaweek]
This just arrived in our inbox — it was shot at Kim's Underground on St. Mark's — with the subject line "Mislabeling."
When we first received word about last night's premiere of The Heart Is Deceitful Above All Things, based on the book by Fake Writer J.T. Leroy, we were a little bit blown away. After New York magazine and the Times exposed Leroy as a complete fraud, a nonexistent individual fabricated by a woman named Laura Albert in order to gain literary success, how could these people possibly have the motivation to host an honest-to-God premiere and after-party? Were they actually sending us a freaking tip sheet for a film spawned from a lie, complete with the names of expected A-list attendees like Mandy Moore and Maggie Gyllenhaal? And were the Misshapes kids really DJing the fucking after-party, where Leroy himself was expected to appear? Certainly such a wheelbarrow of bullshit couldn t be for real but it was. When the balls behind an event are that overgrown, we have to attend.
Late yesterday afternoon, the marketing department at Sony decided that the time had finally come to induce the painful, 14-month buzz erection in the fanboy population that must precede the opening of the next installment of The Greatest Superhero Franchise Of Them All, Spider-Man 3. Superherohype.com has been anointed to kick off the priapic odyssey by displaying the first teaser pic, which will be obsessed over as if it were carved into a stone tablet and flown down from heaven by Moses riding on Superman's shoulders. [Ed.note—You mixed DC and Marvel universes in that last sentence, are you crazy? You'll be dead by the end of this post!] The questions begin: Why does Spidey look so sad? Where's his umbrella? Oooh, has Fat Tobey been working out again, or is that black costume just really slimming?
Not at all coincidentally, if you call CAA and ask to speak with Willis's agent, the same message urging patience while they "take Bruce to the next level" plays while you hold.
On last night's O'Reilly Factor, your basic cable destination for reasoned debate about hot-button issues in Hollywood, Bill O'Reilly invited famously closeted actor Tab Hunter and onetime onscreen homosexual Harry Hamlin to discuss the industry's post-Brokeback climate. Hamlin explained how he believes his choice to play gay in Making Love crippled his movie burgeoning movie career:
A theater in San Francisco has displayed posters for the forthcoming The Heart Is Deceitful Above All Things, the movie based on the fake life of fake and altogether nonexistent writer JT Leroy. Wisely, Palm Pictures has chosen to incorporate the hoax into their marketing tactics — one poster even includes far-too-long excerpts from the Times and New York articles about the scandal.
In Silver Lake, hipster parents don't just get mad about the mindless crap that Hollywood tries to force on their kids—they grab a ladder and a couple of cans of Krylon and take matters into their own hands.
With Eight Below opening this Friday and Running Scared bowing the following weekend, rising cinemannequin Paul Walker will soon have twice as many movies in theaters as fading legend Harrison Ford, a sure signal that he's on the verge of the kind of megastardom that has eluded other once-promising, twice-pretty actors like American Pie's Chris Klein. Shockingly, however, the LAT notes that Walker was not the first choice for either of the upcoming films, and in an even more startling revelation, reports that his reps suggested that future employers view Jessica Alba jiggle-flick Into the Blue to get a taste of the actor's talent. As if this incredible gamble wasn't enough of an obstacle to joining Eight Below's cast, Walker then had to brave director Frank Marshall's grueling canine gauntlet to nab the gig:
Breaking news: Nominated movies might win Oscars!
We're happy to use Valentine's Day as an opportunity to honor some of the entertainment industry's most passionate love affairs, no matter how far we have to stretch the conceit to suit our purposes. This morning, Variety reminds us that while devilishly stylish fauxteur Michael Bay is a man who's given his heart to flashy, high speed chases on the 405 and worshipful, lingering shots of Ben Affleck's jawline, Bay the producer is head-over-heels for pointlessly remaking movies in which horny teens are eviscerated by tool-wielding maniacs. Bay's Platinum Dunes production company, already responsible for desecrating sacred splatter film Texas Chainsaw Massacre and transforming The Amityville Horror into a big-screen tribute to Ryan Reynold's glistening abs, will now be responsible for throwing together a Friday the 13th remake in time for the clever release date of (here it comes) Friday, October 13th. Given the recent trend of shoddily made horror movies ekeing out box office wins, we're going to boldly predict a first-place finish for the movie, if only because horror fans will be curious to see how they explain why Jason Voorhees has now chosen to mow down his victims in a yellow Lamborghini.
The attention being lavished on new Superman Brandon Routh's Package of Steel™ has escalated from occasional tabloid scrutiny to full-blown press tour. Perhaps sensing that Routh's carefully engineered, now-infamous superjunk is the most compelling thing about the actor, the evil masterminds of Warner Bros. dispatched him to the WonderCon convention in San Francisco, where the topic of geek discussion quickly turned to the relative rigidity of the obsessed-about codpiece:
Sony's Amy Pascal, even while mired in last year's Stealth-fueled disaster, never abandoned her instincts. She knew that with some judicious cuts (read: $5 mil in reshoots and edits) designed to render the troublingly priapic Inspector Clouseau a PG-rated eunuch, The Pink Panther could probably capitalize on Steve Martin's post-sellout Cheaper by the Dozen fan base. Reports the LAT on some of the family-friendly changes made en route to the movie's (long delayed) number one opening:
When we mused that director Quentin Tarantino was headed to Scandinavia to scout talent for the trailer for Cowgirls in Sweden, a fake movie he planned to advertise during the intermission in Grindhouse, we knew our flight of fancy might have the stink of truth on it. Today, the Scoop reports that Tarantino, who recently discovered the delights of chasing Icelandic tail, seems to be conducting some serious research in Sweden:
