Insecure that his tireless campaigning on behalf of John Kerry isn't properly demonstrating the strength of his loyalty, Ben Affleck resorts to eating a baby as proof of his allegiance to the Democratic candidate for President.
We're numb to the usual Hollywood birthday party—the candy dishes full of pills, a couple of dead hookers in the bathroom, and Andy Dick on the bottom of a gender-blind grope-pile—so we were pleasantly surprised by Page Six's report about Hilary Swank's 30th at the Argyle Tuesday night. Partying like a five-year-old is the new post-party mugshot on The Smoking Gun. Swank and Oscar-acceptance-speech-cutout/hubby Chad Lowe rang in the post-30, decline phase of Swank's career surrounded by (actual) clowns, magicians, and the remembrance of youth. There's nothing like a finely-crafted balloon poodle to make you momentarily forget that you're about to start losing parts to Brittany Murphy and Kate Hudson. And maybe the clown-assisted appearance of youthfulness will be enough to tack on another year before she has to start subsisting on roles as Lindsay Lohan's sassy mom.
· Miramax and Tommy Mottola conspire to make Broadway musical based on Pink Floyd's The Wall. When we take our drugs to Floyd, we prefer to either stare at the stereo, visit the planetarium, or hang out with our parents. Fighting the theater crowd while tripping face seems like a less than optimal way to spend your hard-earned entertainment dollar. [THR]
· Ralph Fiennes will play Lord Voldemort in the upcoming Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. At least he's not overtly playing another Nazi. [THR]
· The Rock set to star in The Gridiron Gang. It's a tale of urban teen delinquents who are redeemed through the power of sports when they learn to hire other poor kids to take their urine tests. [THR]
· The Mummy/Van Helsing's Stephen Sommers acquires the rights to Flash Gordon for an updated movie, sure to be full of eye-catching special effects and fast food cross-promotions. [Variety, sub. req'd]
· Lifetime's Strong Medicine is picked up for a sixth season. We've never seen Medicine, but love it anytime Meredith Baxter(-Birney) throws up on television. No, we don't care that she's probably not on the show. [THR]
It's been a few weeks since we first heard about the impending layoffs at Miramax (which the LAT also reported), but now we hear they're slightly less "impending," and that the first heads may roll tomorrow. Friday, of course, is the day when people traditionally get the axe so they have the weekend cooling-down period to determine if they really want to show up with that semiautomatic rifle on Monday. So if you're among the downsized, take a deep breath as you fill your cardboard box and realize you'll probably land on your feet at a far friendlier place. After surviving Harvey Weinstein, even ten years in a tiger cage will seem like a life upgrade.
While Madonna's been busy expanding to the Kabbalah Centre's empire by invading the New York City school system, Defamer readers are taking the fight to the streets. Well, they're taking it to happy, red-and-white draped family superstores through the internet. An "activist" was disturbed that Target was selling the Kabbalah Centre's red string bracelets on their website and sent them a disapproving e-mail. And the retailer folded like Michael Moore showed up in the Housewares aisle with a bullhorn and a copy of the Centre's plans for world domination—the Kabbalah Red String is no longer available for purchase at Target.com or sold in their stores.
—That huge H2 of yours might be useful for running over struggling actors waiting in the valet line at The Standard, but it's probably illegal for you to drive it in your neighborhood.
—Always reliable WENN reports reshoots on the new/last Star Wars movie. We're guessing that in the first round of shooting the dialogue didn't come out quite stilted enough and Lucas mistakenly put the camera in the right place once or twice.
— Jack Valenti rolls over in his grave: TiVo gets approval for users to share recorded programs over the internet. Valenti's not dead? Check again when he hears how the pirates have won!
—America is fresh out of women trying to get married on television, so ABC recycles one they've already broken.
—What's in Paris Hilton's gadget bag? No, it doesn't fit in a pill bottle.
Vincent Gallo was everywhere today, explaining his decision to have his extremely artistic, cinematically-necessary beezer blown up to 60 feet tall to loom over motorists on Sunset Boulevard like some sort of sodomized gargoyle. This time he abandons the strange "truth in advertising" line he fed the NYT and instead appeals to Angelenos' insecurity about their "sophistication" in the LAT:
If you're afraid that Pamela Anderson's just-released Star: A Novel might not be the literary work that blows the roof off the Playboy mansion, maybe you'll have better luck with Jill Ann: Upstairs, the "expose" by former Playmate Jill Ann Spaulding that promises "explicit details about the sexual secrets of Hefner and his playmates." Watch out, Hugh, one of your pneumatic harem is coming after you, and she's not fucking around with thinly-veiled fiction, she's going straight for the tell-all—and she was probably smart enough to hire a ghostwriter. Selections from the press release after the jump:
Just about everyone who's gotten their name above the title in a Hollywood film has probably at some point been one bounced rent check away from settling for a career of money-shots and playful stage-names evoking the size or hardness of one's member. What if Hugh Grant hadn't bounced back from his ill-advised encounter with Divine Brown and instead indulged his pornier theatrical instincts? Wawasworld compares the career path of our lovable Hugh with the theoretical work of "Porno Huge" Grant:
Since the Star and National Enquirer have dropped the whole publicist/lawyer-unfriendly "cocaine" angle on Mary-Kate's rehab, we'll update you on her public progress in her battle with "anorexia." She's been spotted in a restaurant again, with Fat Twin/food-sponsor Ashley at her side. We're not sure we're going to endorse going out for sushi as progress in her recovery, and our spy didn't actually see MK putting any food in her mouth or swallowing, so color us somewhat unconvinced. Next time, someone will check the napkins for a half-chewed tuna roll.
The Reviewing Entertainment Weekly blog prints an irate letter from onetime Wiseguy actor Ken Wahl's manager, who's livid about Dalton Ross' profile of the actor in this week's EW. The manager gets in a cheap shot about Ross' physique, but puzzlingly lets him off the hook for the lame stabs at humor in his weekly "Hit List." Anyway, the letter is a must-read for fans of ALL-CAPS, angry correspondence, and obscure actors:
· Fun fact from Writers & Artists sale: Paradigm head Sam Gores is the failure of his family. His brothers are billionaires, he is a mere millionaire—and an agent. His family probably can't even look him in the eye. [Variety, sub. req'd.]
· The WB's Jeff Foxworthy-led sketch comedy show Blue Collar TV gives the network a ratings boost. Is it really worth the few extra households in the key demograhic to allow Foxworthy to milk that "redneck" schtick for a minute longer? [THR]
· Tara Reid gets overall deal with Fox Broadcasting, proving that a new set of tits and spending some time getting spotted falling over drunk are both good career investments. [THR]
· Erika Christensen joins Jodie Foster and Peter Sarsgaard in Flight Plan, a "Hitchcockian" thriller for Touchstone Pictures and Imagine Entertainment. Why not just pony up the extra hundred bucks for Julia Stiles? [THR]
This morning, both THR and Variety report that Paradigm is indeed in talks to gobble up the Writers & Artists agency. Paradigm needs the rep infusion to fill their new offices in the MCA building in Beverly Hills; there's something chilling about an agent blood-curdling scream echoing through a half-full workspace, and the fresh W&A bodies will undoubtedly help to deaden the sound.
Today's rumor from the Land of the Agencies: Paradigm is getting ready to buy the struggling Writers & Artists to form...well, a somewhat larger second-tier agency. In the words of one spy, the sale is "not exactly Ford buying Jaguar, but for the bozos at Paradigm, this should get them better placement for their ads in Variety."
—Perhaps inspired by a certain breathtaking billboard depicting a certain sexual act, Roger Ebert and Vincent Gallo have buried the hatchet over The Brown Bunny.
—Two Page Six items updating running Defamer items: 1) Colin Farrell's cock probably isn't big enough to cause any heart attacks and 2) American Media rags Star and Enquirer succumb to lawyer and publicist evil, and stop pushing "Mary-Kate was rehabbing for coke" story.
—It is not OK to laugh: Girl testifies Disney's Tigger molested her. After yesterday's Neverland Ranch accident, is nowhere safe for American's children?
—Separated at birth: Twist-obsessed fauxteur M. Night Shyamalan and Queer Eye's useless Jai Rodriguez? We think Night kind of looks more like Mr. Bean, but that's just us.
—It's amazing when someone shows even less restraint than we do, but here you go.
—And: Britney tries to buy off the step-kids. There, that should fix everything and the children will certainly grow up well-adjusted.
LA. where reality TV contestants blast off Peter Brady's tattoo with a laser while Chandler's creepy roommate sits in the waiting room. We could just shrug our shoulders, but it's probably not going to even make our top 5 of head-scratching, "Are we on mushrooms?" shit we've heard this week. And getting that tatt burned off really isn't going to help Adam Goldberg's hipster cred, is it?
When we heard the rumors that Redman was AWOL from the set of Method & Red today, we braced ourself for some exciting fallout. Another sort-of fistfight? More golf cart joyriding that ends with a dented Porsche? Eh. Sometimes the truth is a little boring, but we'll tell you anyway. Red was on his way to Newark, where his wife just went into labor, and didn't call the producers until he got to the airport. Nothing smashed, no fisticuffs, just some mildly pissed-off TV producers. Oh, well. That show's a powderkeg, something else will happen eventually.
