[Ed.note—We tried to post this from the theater, but apparently it didn't "take". Not that it was so great, but since we pissed off the guy sitting next to us at the screening (did he really have to hold up his hand like the light from our handheld was searing his retinas?), we'd thought we'd repost and update.]
Joseph Gordon-Levitt, former 3rd Rock alien and star of Sundance entries Mysterious Skin and Brick, didn't punch us after sticking a camera-phone in his face, but he did blink. We're grateful there wasn't even a hint of violence, but we're obligated to crow that this round goes to Defamer.
Whispers have it that celebrity photographer/director David LaChapelle got arrested on Main Street last night following the premiere of Rize, his krumping movie (which a friend at the screening described as "awesome"), for drunkenly yelling at a cop and various other inebriated antics. We'll put our ears to the ground and see if we can verify, but the rumors are flying. Hot 5-0 action, developing!
We survived the Southwest flight into a foggy Salt Lake City and are now sitting in a theater waiting for the premiere of Inside Deep Throat. Movie's about to start...we'll have to relate our sighting of Brian Grazer later. But wait, Grazer produced the film and just made some opening remarks not worth mentioning. The hair is spectacular however. [via mobile]
While a joking offer to shoot up in the bathroom with Scott Weiland might meet with a grateful acceptance or a polite, "I'm clean now" refusal, the same overture to Ron Howard's best buddy would probably result in a deal to write the sequel to A Beautiful Mind. Thankfully, this reader realized exactly which celebrity he was spying on before he committed an embarrassing faux pas and altered cinematic history,
Hey, did we mention that we're going to Sundance? Must've slipped our minds. We'll be landing in Park City this evening, and blogging from deep within the bastard colony that Hollywood establishes once a year in Utah, reporting on all the movies we see, chatter we overhear, and parties that we sneak into. So if you've got some free booze you absolutely, positively need consumed by a blogger who'll spend his entire trip bitching about how his balls have frozen to his leg, give us a jingle. And we'll do our best to deliver a camera-phone picture of Harvey Weinstein choking a first-time director, his breath gently crystallizing in the cold mountain air, demanding he get the rights to the next sex, lies, and videotape for below market value.
· After watching the DGA and WGA go down in flames negotiating for increased DVD residuals, SAG/AFTRA gives up the dream after facing "rock-hard resistance from studios and nets." But everyone knew they were going to get bent over and given the "rock-hard" shaft after the writers and directors hummed their way through their earlier buggerings. [Variety]
· Despite The Big Pitt and Aniston Break-Up, Plan B and Tri-Star will soon start production on the adaptation of Running with Scissors, starring Annette Bening, Gwyneth Paltrow, Brian Cox, Evan Rachel Wood, and Joseph Fiennes. [Variety]
· More Brad and Jen: Mr. and Mrs. Smith will be a test case for whether or not banging your co-star before a very public split with your A-list wife results in increased box office. God, we hope it does, just for all the studio-ordered affairs. [THR]
· Huzzah! The overall deal is not yet dead! Darren Star is close to signing a three-year deal with Sony Pictures TV. OK, it's not dead if your last project was Sex and the City. [THR]
· Fox and Spelling TV team up for one hour drama set in a Las Vegas wedding chapel. Please, kill us now, and make it painful. It'll still be better than an hour of this. [THR]
The entrepreneurs who brought you the Save Mary-Kate t-shirt were obviously not chastened by the cease-and-desist letter the Olsen twins' corporation, DeathstarDualstar Entertainment, served them back in September. Maybe they'll have better luck with hawking shirts with Topher Grace's graven, bony image. Uck. That image is almost enough to make us stop beating off to That 70s Show. Almost.
This hasn't been the best 24 hours for John Goodman. Yesterday, some pranksters spread a fake story that he died, which then raced through Hollywood like a glass of Mexican tap water thanks to some overzealous folks at Endeavor. Today, CBS announced that it's whacked his show Center of the Universe with extreme prejudice, wiping it off the schedule immediately. Hey, kids from Endeavor: this story's solid. Feel free to forward it to everyone you know.
FCC chairman Michael Powell's Super-Bowl-titty-fueled reign of Puritan terror is coming to an end, as Powell will step down from his post today. While this may signal a reduction in the indecency fines that Powell hurled at Hollywood like bolts of lightning from atop Mount Olympus (the Greek mythology one, not the neighborhood above Hollywood Blvd.), we probably shouldn't hold our breath for a more fun-loving successor. And Fox should probably hold off on airing the two hour premiere of My Big Fat Obnoxious Show of Fucking and Godlessness, where Satanists with Tourette's repeatedly copulate with a King James Bible, while simultaneously trying to determine which preschooler was the product of a sperm donation made for rent money. We're not out of the woods yet.
· Original Michael Jackson Bad album art leaked to Craigslist!
· Beware: Kicking your drug habit might make you fat. But you'll get your kid back, so carefully weigh the pros and cons before attempting.
· Why else would anyone freeze their ass off outside the inauguration other than to swear loudly within earshot of a CNN camera?
· Say what you will about Christian conservative groups issuing a "gay alert" for SpongeBob, but we've always felt he was a little light in the cartoon loafers. Someone's going to catch him at the bathhouse with Tinky Winky, and then all hell's going to break loose in the Bible Belt.
Hello, internet surfers! If you've heard the rumor that John Goodman died today, or were sent a link to this story (or try this link), well, it's time to pull your commemorative plates of the 100th Roseanne episode off of eBay, because they aren't going to spike in value like you'd hoped. The story is clearly a hoax (not even the AP can mangle grammar or spelling like that), and if you look closely at the URL, the story doesn't live on the MyWay.com servers. Some jokesters decided to punk the kids at the Oh No They Didn't Livejournal, where dozens of moving tributes to the not-dead-yet Goodman were instantly erected.
· The 14th annual Photo LA Exhibit kicks off with an opening night gala at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium, and includes works by artists like Diane Arbus, Ansel Adams, and Robert Mapplethorpe. We're uncultured mouth-breathers and we've even heard of those three.
· If Photo LA doesn’t get you hot and bothered, the Erotic Museum in Hollywood an exhibition of "sex-spiritual art" by graffiti and tattoo artist Mike GIANT (all caps his). Tattoos and sex...sounds very Jolie, a definite plus in our book.
· Should your voyeuristic tendencies abandon you, you could just check out a good rock show, as Elefant is at the Henry Fonda with Run Run Run.
As always, your responses were frequent, enthusiastic, and lawyer-baiting. Before you view the reader guesses, get in your wayback machine and relive One Blind Blind Vice:
It's been a while since we've received a cry for help from deep inside Miramax; we'd assumed that after months of slow torture, their staffers' tear ducts became desiccated from abuse. But now we know it's probably because they're too crippled by stress headaches to tap out pleas for help. The Weinsteins have all but packed their golden cardboard boxes, and it looks like they're raiding the medicine cabinet on the way out. A spy ignores the pain just long enough to squeeze out an e-mail:
"Following his reinstatement, [blind New York detective Jim Dunbar] is assigned to a new precinct where he intends to take on cases with the help of his guide dog, Hank.
