The Defamer correspondent on Meg Ryan fixations files this report speculating about whether a certain A-lister is in danger of being forcibly molded into America's New Sweetheart by a nostalgic filmmaker:
After yesterday's memo informing their employees that their end-of-year vacations were going to be a lot less merry, you'd think Miramax would be done crushing the holiday spirit. Unfortunately, there are now rumors circulating within the Max that Harvey Weinstein wants to ruin Thanksgiving as well, with another possible round of layoffs rolling through before the turkeys are in the oven. Is there anyone left to fire, or are they going to need to fill empty cubes with temps before marching through the office and handing out pinkslips smeared in cranberry sauce? Please, someone go and white-out all of the holidays on Harvey's calendar before he figures out a way to fuck with Boxing Day.
LA Weekly's Nikki Finke reports that Michael Ovitz hasn't exactly been pinning NYT reporter Laura Holson's coverage of The Hollywood Trial of the Century to his fridge. Ovitz's displeasure and behind-the-scenes maneuvering might have led to today's Page Six item about Holson's um, disruptive behavior in the courtroom:
Defamer is committed to bringing its readers exciting employment opportunies with ample room for professional growth. A little headhunting birdie let it slip that Endeavor's putting out the word that star client Lindsay Lohan is looking for a personal assistant. If you'd like to cultivate an intimate knowledge of the Hollywood club scene, think your hair-holding/Fez-tending skills are up to par, and believe you can get Lohan to the set on time, you can reach Lohan's agent, Leanne Coronel, with the information here. Good luck, job hunters!
· Martin "Goldeneye" Campbell is in negotiations to direct the next Bond movie and—no pressure—save the franchise. But first MGM has to find a new Bond. We say truss up Connery and run him out there one more time. [THR]
· Meanwhile, Pierce Brosnan has moved on from dapper spy typecasting to dapper thief typecasting, preparing to do The Topkapi Affair, a sequel to The Thomas Crown Affair. [Variety, sub. req'd.]
According to Variety, DreamWorks has shelled out seven figures to obtain the rights for a feature film version of Baywatch, which it's fastracking for a summer 2006 release. While intellectually we understand that much of the world can't quench its thirst for David Hasselhoff's chest-thicket or Pamela Anderson's rack struggling against the confines of of red one-piece, our visceral reaction was to immediately soil our Speedos. If you suffered a similar reaction, we promise everything's going to be OK. Once you clean up, the thoughts of suicide from despair over the state of the entertainment industry quickly recede. Well, at least until the movie deal for Baywatch Nights is announced.
Tuesday's testimony in The Hollywood Trial of the Century revealed that erstwhile superagent Michael Ovitz demanded a $50 million signing bonus to become Disney's president. (To illustrate, that figure is roughly 75 percent of CEO Michael Eisner's fund for negotiating with the families of Disneyland guests who found Donald Duck to be feloniously handsy in the buffet line at the Character Breakfast.) An agent posturing to get more money than he can rationally expect? Shocker.
In the LAT, NY Observer columnist/screenwriter Bruce Feirstein catalogues the "circular firing squad of recriminations" that followed the Democrats' Election Day apocalypse. Inevitably, the blame spirals down to Hollywood, swirling around the feet of a too-familiar face:
—Natalie Portman is caught smoking in Israel, also caught "happy" that Bush won the election. Oh, yeah, she campaigned for Kerry. Um, flip flop?
—It's always sad when fathers and daughters attend separate press junkets in the same hotel, yet still can't find a way to mend the rifts between them.
—Tara Reid extends her Week of Being Paris Hilton by being caught partying her ass off immediately after swearing she's given up partying. What's the saying? You can't expect a retard to change its spots? Close enough.
—The Funkyjenn Gazette wonders what the Producers Guild thinks of bogus "lifestyle producers" diluting the power of their credits.
—Who said Nicky Hilton's fake marriage wouldn't last? August 15th to November 8th is a pretty good run for faux nuptials.
Hey, remember this morning, when everyone was talking about what a cool party Miramax threw at the American Film Market? Well, the Miramax Left Behind (the "lucky" ones who escaped the layoffs) have had any fond party memories (whether firsthand or vicarious) erased by the latest in a barrage of morale-downsizing memoranda. This time, Miramax changed its holiday vacation time policy on the fly, eliminating the end-of-year paid holidays and forcing what's left of their workforce to take the time as vacation days—long after most have already made their plans. There are rumblings that this new policy came straight from Harvey Weinstein's Grinch cave, complete with Scroogian cackle. [Ed.note—Are there any other holiday bad guys left to squeeze in that sentence?] Employees are so happy about the news that they're all out following every dogwalker in Tribeca, "shopping" for Weinstein's holiday gift with plastic baggies. The memo follows after the jump.
In fairness, we really have no idea what Kate Beckinsale was doing at the clinic, or even how that big, red, suggestive circle got on the picture. But there does appear to be a little more bounce in her step...
From Variety's VPage coverage of Beyond the Sea's opening night screening at AFI Fest: Kevin Spacey tires of the indelible image of him deep-throating a microphone representing his cinematic labor of love, and finally enlists two friends to give us a new tableaux to consider.
[Photo: Stephen Shugerman/Getty Images]
Hollywood PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are sent in by our readers. Send yours to tips@defamer.com and let Halle Berry know you saw her toss that cigarette butt out of her SUV's window.
· Fox, CBS, and DirecTV hold on to the NFL for the insignificant sum of about $8 billion. In related news: Still no team in L.A., though the homeless guy down the street is fond of wearing an old Rams helmet. [THR]
· Carole Black will resign her post as president and CEO of Lifetime Entertainment in March. We can only imagine the personal toll wrought by nearly six years of anorexia, breast cancer, and Valerie Bertinelli movies. [THR]
· Clubhouse strikes outs, is sent to the showers, is indicted in the BALCO case, or any other baseball-related metaphor that indicates it's not on television anymore. [Variety, sub. req'd.]
· Reese Witherspoon's Type A Productions is developing Janet Evanovich's bounty hunter mystery novel One for the Money for Columbia. We hope the book's about an adorably feisty bounty hunter, because Witherspoon's really got the adorably feisty thing down. [Variety, sub. req'd.]
· Were you hoping that the Golden Globes would end in a showdown of True Believers? The Hollywood Foreign Press has already stymied any hopes for a Fahrenheit 9/11 vs. The Passion of the Christ throw-down. Documentaries aren't eligible for any awards, while movies about Jesus getting his ass kicked for two hours are eligible—but only if they're in English. Maybe Moore and Gibson will get drunk and wrestle instead. [THR]
With the holidays around the corner, there's a fresh opportunity for Kabbalah-savvy entrepreneurs to make a mockery of your preferred faith with new consumer goods marketed to the holy season. A press release heralds the much-anticipated arrival of Kabbalah candles from the same company that brought us a "collection of Elton John home fragrances," so you know that they've really captured the smell of money burning in wax form (a formula pulled straight from the Bible!). And any press release that name-drops Madonna, Demi Moore, and Ashton Kutcher in its first sentence obviously has a higher-minded purpose—a "portion" of the proceeds will benefit Kabbalah's Spirituality for Kids program. Of course, there's no mention of the Kabbalah Centre itself in the announcement, and the KC already has its own line of magic candles, setting up the possibility of a bloody turf war just in time for the Centre's Fake Hanukkah. Happy Holidays, Light Seekers!
A reader at the LA.comfidential blog reports from Miramax's American Film Market party at Akwa. The Max might be lean and mean these days after laying off just about everyone whose name doesn't begin in "Wein" and end in "ein," but they know their core business is still sucking up to talent at parties and convincing them to work cheaply.
—Jim Belushi sues Catwoman for $4 million for a "campaign of harassment designed to drive him from his home." What's he going to do when the Joker moves in on the other side and he's completely outflanked by Batman villains?
—When we predicted that Paris Hilton would retaliate for Tara Reid's boob slip with a full-on beaver unveiling, we never dreamed Hilton would get around to it on the same night.
—"Hagman has stipulated that upon his death, he wants his body to be ground in a wood chipper and scattered in a field, where wheat is to be harvested for a cake to be eaten by his friends and family one year later."
—"Which tweeny-bopper matinee idol has been bopping more than just her Hollywood husband? Seems this small but mighty starlet is fulfilling computer nerd fantasies everywhere by laying members of the femme persuasion." The You Can't Make It Up blog gets in the on the blind-item fun.
—Coffee shop turf wars such as these never end well. Feelings are hurt, wounds reopened, and baristas are forced to choose sides. And we beg of you, please, no gunplay.
1. We imagine that Arianna Huffington's got some smack to talk about the election, and she'll get the chance to vent at the Westside Today Speaker Series at the Luxe Hotel on Sunset.
2. Free music rundown: Detroit DJ Jimmy Edgar does his thing for free at Monroe’s and Spaceland's got new bands from parts of old favorites, with Telephone (Dandy Warhols) and The High Sierras (Beachwood Sparks) playing without the bothersome cover charge.
3. Goings on at AFI Fest at the ArcLight: A Tribute to Pedro Almodovar, the man who made pregnant nuns cool again; The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things, based on the J.T. LeRoy book we never got around to reading, but hey, Winona Ryder; Let’s Rock Again: a documentary about the Clash's immortal Joe Strummer as he tours with the Mescaleros.
