We were perhaps too distracted by our repeated, failed attempts to please Paul Walker's horny virtual wife to consider the potential privacy-violating implications of turning over our personal information in exchange for a crack at New Line's online game for Running Scared. BoingBoing's Xeni Jardin immediately smelled something wrong (or at least got tipped to the weirdness by G3k) with the website's supposed age-verification system:

Stay-at-home dad Ben Affleck was apparently too busy with diaper-changing responsibilities to make the trip to Santa Barbara for the festival premiere of a film he's in, and Page Six reports that his director realizes that ass-kissing is mandatory only if your fading star actually shows his face at the screening:

Ain't It Cool News has come across perhaps the greatest promotion in the history of soon-to-be-doomed movies. Visitors to the website of New Line's Running Scared can take part in a highly immersive interactive experience (you must be 17 years old to play—wink wink, horny fifth graders!), becoming a virtual, cunnilingus-craving version of Paul Walker:

At the afterparty for Thursday night's premiere of Firewall, living legend Harrison Ford addresses young buck co-star Nikolaj Coster-Waldau: "Hey kid, hold my drink for a second while I go find my career. Haha. [beat] Don't laugh, it's not funny. I just needed a way to break the ice with you and talk about something important. You might be impressed with all these [gestures wildly to another part of the room] choc...o...late fount—fountains!—and the big wall of fire over there, but get over it quick. One day you're Han Fucking Indiana Solo Jones and the next thing you know, you're just protecting your family from a bunch of shit over and over... I said not to laugh, kid. You know what my next project is, besides getting out of these pants, why are they so goddamned tight?! It's called Doggy Door, kid, and I'm keeping my miniature pinscher safe from an evil kitten who can drive a tiny car. Get outta this business while you still can, I'm sure there are better jobs making—what are you, German? no?—industrial films about sausage factory safety or whatever it is you did before this. Gimme back my drink, I have to go punch and then hug my agent. I love that bastard. See ya around."

By all means, shed a tear for the ending of another celebrity relationship: that of cyclebot Lance Armstrong and his sun-soaked dittybird, Sheryl Crow. But life goes on, as do biopics, and the feature based on Armstrong's autobiography "It's Not About the Bike: My Journey Back to Life" is no exception. Matt Damon is cast as Armstrong, and veteran producer and director Frank Marshall is at the helm, with footage already in the can of the actual athlete soaring past the finish line at the last Tour de France for a real-life happy ending. But Marshall wants everyone to know that this Lance-authorized and monitored production will not be a breezy, downhill, sightseeing affair:

• Gnarly Drug Problem [Goldenfiddle]

A reader cringed at this unexpected overshare in today's Variety, nestled in a story about Shrek
director Victoria Jenson signing on to New Line's Four Christmases, a movie about a couple who must visit all four households of their divorced parents on one incredibly wacky Christmas Day:

Watch it with the twink you love.

CNN.com's film critic, Paul Clinton, died earlier this week in Los Angeles. He was 53 years old, and — war in Iraq or not — we find that, too, to be tragically young.

Has it truly been 13 years since Sharon Stone first uncrossed her legs into our hearts in Basic Instinct? Alas, it has, but the wait for the sequel, delayed for years by legal squabbling between Stone and her producers, is soon over. What's better, the NY Daily News reports that Stone's sex scenes are so over the top in the UK-set Basic Instinct 2: Risk Addiction, it makes her performance in the first film look like Nanny McPhee with an ice pick (and for both you Instinct purists out there, spoiler alert):

James Frey bashing has quickly evolved into America's favorite new pastime, with millions gathering around the bean dip to catch its Super Bowl equivalent: a 60-minute Oprah inculpation so grisly, it might as well have been dubbed The Passion of the Frey. But once your tall-tale substance abuse memoir has been likened to Holocaust denial on national television, as America's Opinion Maker Oprah Winfrey nods her large, regal head in accord, is there really anywhere else this sport can go? Of course there is! Frey could be dropped by his "people" namely, his Brillstein-Grey literary manager Kassie Evashevski, who explained her logic to Publisher's Weekly:

Unfailingly reliable British tabloid The Sun claims to have a handle on Brad Pitt's career strategy in the post-Brokeback Mountain world:

• How to cope with asthma? By chain smoking and tattooing the word "breathe" on your wrist. Works for Lohan! [Monsters & Critics]
• Sometimes it pays to be the other woman: Ron Perelman's former mistress Susan Kasen scored $1 million tax-free, a $1 million insurance policy, a $500,000 apartment, a monthly allowance of $5,000 and an annual payment of $50,000. [R&M]
• It's just kind of sad how Halle Berry repeatedly winds up with fuckbots. [Page Six]
• Vince Neil is too "puffy" to belt out a few Motley Crue tunes. [Page Six]
• Oh, did we say "puffy?" We meant that Neil was absolutely unhinged, and not in a rock sort of way. [Lowdown (2nd item)]
• Dukes of Hazzard and Son of the Mask lead the Razzie nominations, which recognize singularly shitty acheivements in filmmaking. In the Worst Supporting Actress category, Jessica Simpson, nominated for her thighs' role in Dukes, will go head-to-head with Paris Hilton's breathtaking performance in House of Wax. At any rate, it's more fun than the Oscars.

Cowboys are Gay and it's OK: Brokeback Mountain leads the Oscar nominee list with 8 nods. Right after noms were announced, Matt Dillon hit the Today show — he's just been nominated, and Katie Couric is flashing some congratulatory leg.

Just yesterday, Fox 411's Roger Friedman couldn't help spilling the dirty beans about his trip on Southwest, during which a flight attendant treated a cabin full of shocked passengers to a passionate defense of Kenny "A Capable Lover, Just Not With Renee Zellweger" Chesney's heterosexuality. Today, however, Friedman's clamming up and offering his readers nothing more than a paralyzing case of the gossip blue balls:

Steven Soderbergh's upcoming murder-in-a-doll-factory movie, Bubble (if you don't have a doll parts phobia yet, watching the trailer should fix that), will be the first feature by a mainstream filmmaker to put the controversial "collapsing windows" distribution theory to the test i.e., eliminating the gap between a theatrical release and its pay-per-view and DVD releases. But the director's radical re-envisioning of the Hollywood model doesn't end there: He too sides with studio executives who are advocating massive upfront pay cuts for talent in exchange for them receiving a larger share of the back end. According to him, a star salary cap is not only cost effective, it will improve the quality of the movies:

With a lukewarm reception at the box office and snubs in virtually every awards race (it lost in both in its Golden Globe nominated categories best director and best screenplay to Brokeback Mountain) Steven Spielberg's Munich is left to wipe the snot from its once promising nose, wondering when and how it lost its way. Some are blaming its controversial point of view, which seemingly wants to have its Mossad revenge killing cake, and, in depicting Palestinian terrorists in a sympathetic light, eat it too. Screenwriter Tony Kushner took to defending the film in a recent LAT op-ed piece:

• Oh no he DIDN'T: Jude Law has ended his relationship with Sienna Miller and is reportedly moving back in with ex-wife Sadie Frost, who has not aborted any of his babies and tends to employ fuck-worthy nannies. [Mirror]
• Jennifer Lopez has been spotted buying all sorts of pricey accoutrements for some lucky baby. We won't believe it's her baby until we see her buying mink baby bonnets and russian squirrel-lined diapers. [Scoop]
• After George Clooney makes a lame joke at Jack Abramoff's expense, Daddy Abramoff fires back at Clooney. This naturally prompts Father Clooney to get involved. Here's hoping for a geriatric wrestling match to be funded by Jack and produced by George. [Lowdown]
• Kate Capshaw is a waiter's nightmare; Tiger Woods, Usher, and Star Jones are shitty tippers. Keep in mind that Jones will happily plug your menu on the View if you're willing to forgo any payment whatsoever. [Page Six]
• Even though it's barely started filming, Lou Reed thinks Factory Girl sucks. Well, if you actually lived it, of course you're going to think that. Crazy old coot. [R&M]

And you can say you knew him when.

Perhaps not the best tag for a film based on the work of JT Leroy.