The NYT reports that the braintrust behind Cinderella Man met on Tuesday to try and make some sense of the movie's failure at the box office. (Of course, Russell Crowe's ill-timed bludgeoning of a hotel clerk didn't help, but wasn't seen as the deal-breaker.) Let the wringing of the hands, the gnashing of the teeth, and the wailing to a Creator who's cruelly indifferent to period boxing movies commence!
TV Week reports that some of the Native American extras in the Steven Spielberg-produced Into The West have complained about mistreatment during the grueling shooting of the TNT miniseries:
Various outlets are reporting today (though SorryIGotDrunk had a little info on it last night—God bless the internet news cycle) that Fox and Universal are going halfsies on a Microsoft bastard, teaming up to buy Halo (reportedly for half of the original $10 million upfront price, plus other concessions). In case you've suffered blunt head trauma and are having recall problems, you'll remember that CAA, Microsoft's pimp of choice, dispatched an army of green-armored men (or "Master Chiefs") to deliver the script to studios, most of which promptly passed.
BoingBoing points out this pullquote (from an actual Boston Globe review) on the cover of an illegal Eternal Sunshine DVD in their Crappy Bootleg DVD Flickr pool, prompting the holographic representation of MPAA pirate hunter emeritus Jack Valenti to appear suddenly beside a sidewalk vendor in downtown Los Angeles and issue this statement: "I say to you that the unauthorized use of hilariously misapplied review copy on substandard, contraband DVD cover art is to legitimate entertainment industry concerns as the fiery meatus of Satan's infernal member is to the pristine hindquarters of an otherwise naked altar boy bending over to tie his shoes."
BoingBoing's Xeni Jardin, interstellar blogger sent from fifteen minutes in the future to report back on the tech-follies of humans, goes spycam hunting in downtown LA for Wired, finding a few of the $186,000 worth of invisible eyes that the MPAA gifted to the LAPD to crack down on the pirated DVD trade. When the roving cameras identify an illegal transaction taking place, a holographic image of legendary MPAA pirate-hunter Jack Valenti is projected down to the street. The virtual Valenti then attempts to confuse and intimidate the misguided consumer into discontinuing the transaction with a soliloquy comparing the disrespecting of copyrights to one of twelve disturbing scenarios, like "lashing your 12-year old daughter to the buffet in the preteen-rapist ward at a hospital for the criminally insane."
While actor Russell Crowe is out promoting Cinderella Man by waging a very public, bloody battle against poor customer service in hotels, producer Brian Grazer is taking a more peaceful tack, turning the spotlight on himself (he's selfless that way) and discussing the superproducing process that single-handedly generates Imagine Entertainment's hits with the LAT:
Despite the astro-kabuki theater of CAA's stunt delivery of the Halo script to every studio in town, the buzz we've been hearing is that it's all been smoke and mirrors for a "horrible" script. We haven't talked to anyone who's claimed to have read it, but the assistants are ripping into it like the space-suited couriers threw a hot latte into their faces before suggesting a three-way with their mothers. (Is anyone really offering "two executives and a pack of gum"? Sounds like an overbid.) We suppose we might hear about how bad it is shortly, as the agency-imposed negotiating window supposedly snaps shut at 5pm, at which time the armored lackeys will be repurposed for unpacking the crates of fresh babies for tomorrow's CAA breakfast buffet.
At the risk of becoming a pawn in the effort to induce a feeding frenzy for Microsoft's Halo project, we present this picture (it's hit our inbox more times than we care to count in the last 10 minutes) of the minions dispatched by the evil lifeforms at CAA to deliver the scripts to the studios. From the assistant tracking wires:
This headline hangs above a Rush & Molloy story about how Max Baer Jr. has accused director Ron Howard of playing fast and loose with the facts about Baer's boxer father in Cinderella Man. Poppycock! Has Jethro never seen A Beautiful Mind, the most stunningly accurate depiction of mental illness ever committed to film, which finally taught the world that schizophrenics go through life accompanied by a gang of adorable imaginary friends? Howard's record in such matters is unimpeachable.
In an effort to focus on their upcoming movie and diffuse some of the tabloid heat generated by their recent African sex safari and Moroccan sex-bazaar quickies, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's handlers have booked them in separate hotels (such is the power of their sexual attraction that Pitt would drill a glory-hole in the wall with his genitals if they were housed in adjoining rooms) during a New York jaunt for some TV appearances. And just so everyone knows their people aren't fucking around about playing coy with the couple's relationship, Pitt's publicist broke the glass on her Emergency Flack Kit :
Because it's frowned upon for someone to look a reporter in the eyes and say, "Look, I took the job because whether I direct Chinatown or Dunston Checks In, the bank insists that I make the mortgage payment on my Malibu beach house every month," Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants director Ken Kwapis is forced to rationalize his participation in the movie for the LAT:
When a major news story breaks, we often like to cast the topical movie that will certainly be rushed into production. Producers: If you can't get through to Kevin Spacey's people right away, be patient. Those five minutes you spend listening to the Beyond the Sea soundtrack while on hold will be worth it.
We've heard that Tom Cruise is a very hands-on star and producer, but does he really need to bother with things like one-sheet design?
Today's LAT has a great account of the tensions between Mr. and Mrs. Smith director Doug Liman, our new Hollywood hero, and virtually everyone who steps onto his sets. When Liman (Did we mention he's our new hero? He is.) isn't shooting mismatched "coverage" on a visual whim or driving crews into overtime so that he can play paintball, he's attempting feats of cinematic impossibility, like trying to extract a performance from a part Brad Pitt's body that can't be honed through crunches:
The NY Observer's Transom column catches up with indie director John Sayles, who inadvertantly reveals an apparent security breach in a certain director's computer systems:
