What we have here is an ad for Canadian clothing chain Harry Rosen featuring New Yorker scribe Malcolm Gladwell. Gladwell did the ad for charity, so we're going to let it go this time, but, uh, wow, they really have a different idea of celebrity up north, don't they? Also, we want to know if they used a hairstylist for the shoot or if that's just the way he showed up.
Continuing with our running coverage this week of the Toronto International Film Festival, and, by extension, the adorable, if somewhat cockeyed, customs of its Canadian hosts, we now turn our attentions to this story about Sean Penn, who has raised the ire of local politicians after allowing his anti-Bush sentiments to get the better of him, and lighting up during a press conference:
Of all the many Canada-mocking opportunities afforded us by the Toronto Film Festival, perhaps none is riper than this report on the sad state of the festival's swag bags and gifting suites. Paltry to begin with by our obnoxiously generous standards, celebrities are opting to pass on the freebies completely this year, as daunting visions of filing international IRS tax forms dance through their heads:
There is no shortage of Big Hollywood Stars roaming around Toronto's streets for the International Film Festival this week, taking in the tidy sights and throwing around local, toboggan-adorned currency like it's going out of style. But no single celebrity has made a bigger fuss up yonder than Brad Pitt, for whom the entire country has put its contempt of all things American on hold just long enough to grovel at his architecture-loving, poverty-hating altar. A Brad Pitt at TIFF round-up:
We have to hand it to Jessica Alba: It's a good plan. When in your natural habitat, play up a humble, sweet-natured image. Bemoan your status as a sex symbol movie star forever struggling to break free from the burden of almost supernaturally hot looks. Show some versatility, and at the same time poke fun at your image by hosting an irreverent cable awards show. Then, go up to Canada a couple times a year to unleash the raging bitch from hell you've been bottling up for months on some of their irritatingly "nice" locals. Jaunted.com summarizes Vancourverites' general feelings about the star, in town shooting Good Luck Chuck with Dane Cook:
Q: How long does it take a starlet who owes her middling acting career to her father to rush to his side following a medical emergency?
As our friends in the Great White North have alerted us to approximately 7,000 times this week, Hollywood's Lil' Princess Tori Spelling made an appearance last Sunday at the MuchMusic Video Awards, billed as "the wildest music awards party in Canada." (Apparently the Junos have lost much of the unpredictable, rock n' roll edge they laid claim to back in Anne Murray's heyday.) At around the same time her father was smelling burnt toast and being rushed to an LA hospital, the reviled man-plunderer found herself just feet away from victim/nemesis Mary Jo Eustace (a Canadian TV personality and self-published author of the much-lauded book proposal, My Husband Left Me For Tori Spelling). Eustace claims Spelling had her ejected, citing a "restraining order," and Tori's later attempt to win over the audience very nearly resulted in them demanding her head on a hockey stick:
Because we'd hate to disappoint George Clooney's publicist by not giving you the chance to locate and physically harm famous people, we thought we'd pass along this exciting report from Gawker's northernmost correspondent:
The Canadian people have spoken, and the message reads loud and clear: We're too nice. How else to explain the Monday night election victory of new Prime Minister Stephen Harper, an Iraq war-supporting, gay marriage-opposing Conservative-with-a-capital-C from the oil drilling and cattle ranching province of Alberta? But as the country adapts to its "51st red state" status, a new Canadian reality show called The Next Great Prime Minister is already searching for his replacement:
Professional ice hockey has had a time of it lately, still trying to play catch up after last season's disastrous labor strike and a steadily dwindling US audience. Forced to get creative, the NHL has pinned its hopes on the celebrity blog musings of one Elisha Cuthbert, who in her Hollywood Hockey Thoughts blog bio on NHL.com, calls herself "just an actress who loves the sport and does not play — but that doesn't mean I can't talk about it!" And no pom-pom waving arctic bunny she; this former Montrealer (we knew there was something we liked about this girl, despite the fact that she conveniently abandoned her hometown Canadiens for the LA Kings) is an insightful fan! Take for example her reasoned treatise on the art of booing turncoat players:
Mark has gone on a trip. I'm not sure where to; he was rushed and breathless and I could only catch bits and pieces. Something about "Stockholm," "getting rid of the stranger between his legs once and for all," and "Juicy sweatsuits here he comes." Strangest of all, he left his itinerary behind and his return flight appears to have been ticketed to a "Maria Lisanti." Must have been a typo.
In Sunday's Times Magazine, Deborah Solomon not only Q&A'd author Jonathan Kozol but also profiled Canadian artist Marcel Dzama, who was, Solomon wrote, "[b]orn in 1974 in the isolated Canadian wilds of Winnipeg."
