Deeply hurt by Viacom CEO Philippe Dauman's efforts to emotionally distance himself from an eventual break-up with an allegedly dissatisfied Steven Spielberg, DreamWorks BFF Jeffrey Katzenberg has publicly come to the defense of the director, advising the mouthy executive to tread lightly when appraising the value of his priceless longtime partner. Reports Var:
The Phil Spector jury still sits deadlocked, one faction firmly convinced the pouffy-wigged eccentric shot Barbarian Queen star Lana Clarkson in the mouth, the other feeling Spector was merely the victim of a convoluted self-murder plot for which he'd unwittingly provide a suicide-friendly foyer and firearm. Presiding Judge Larry Paul Fidler, meanwhile, in his ongoing attempts to shake some clear-minded consensus into the divided group, has opted not to offer the option of a reduced sentence of manslaughter:
A tipster informs us that today is Community Service Day at William Morris, and that the firm has dispatched an army of agents and assistants into the city to participate in charitable works like building houses, planting trees, and helping the elderly cross dangerous intersections. (Feel free to give WMA a call if you need some trash picked up. For one day at least, they're there for you!) In a related story, today is Do A Little Extra Evil Day at the Death Star, CAA's attempt to pick up the slack for whatever sins are going uncommitted by their temporarily do-gooding rivals.
· Viacom CEO Philippe Dauman prepares for the jilting DreamWorks partners David Geffen and Steven Spielberg may inflict upon Paramount, calling their potential departure for a new studio venture "completely immaterial" to his company's happiness and inviting the pair to "go ahead and fuck whoever you want, you disloyal little tramps, see if I care! My heart will go on!" [Variety]
· Jimmy Kimmel will host the AMAs* for an amazing fourth time. [*the American Music Awards, more popularly known as the "Retarded Grammies."] [THR]
· Happy news: AMC is about to pick up the awesome Mad Men for a second season, the network's tribute to the drinking—Scotch-in-the-office, secretary-banging heyday of the 1960s advertising world. [Variety]
· Eddie Haskell is mad as hell at SAG over undisbursed foreign Beaver residuals and not going to take it anymore [THR]
· It's Matthew McConaughey's Hollywood, and we're all just living in it: Jennifer Garner is in negotiations to star opposite a "charmingly womanzing" McConaughey in New Line's Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, and McConaughey takes Owen Wilson's place in Tropic Thunder, from which Wilson recently withdrew due to, um, "creative differences" or something. [Variety, Variety]
· Simpson was released today on $125,000 bail. He also had his passport confiscated, though he'll be able to travel within the U.S., by air, rail, or very slowly moving SUV. [Reuters]
· Simpson's lawyer Yale Galanter said his client would enter a plea of not guilty to the charges, which, by way of review, are "conspiracy to commit a kidnapping, coercion with a deadly weapon, burglary while in possession of a deadly weapon, conspiracy to commit robbery and two counts each of first-degree kidnapping with use of a deadly weapon." [LAT]
Truth be told, we were never big fans of the Sex and the City TV show, as the dramatization of high-end shoe-shopping and the sex lives of aging cougar nymphomaniacs didn't hold much interest for us. Today, however, we're inexplicably excited about the forthcoming feature adaptation of the beloved HBO series, as New Line has issued a press release celebrating the movie's first day of production, one that includes this first-ever photo from the set to further commemorate this special occasion.
"Chris first got on our radar a year ago," said 44 Blue prexy/co-founder Rasha Drachkovitch, who said he wants to develop a show that plays to Crocker's strengths.
Faced with the Solomonic dilemma of deciding whether to award custody of steadily working celebrity-weekly cover models Sean Preston and Other One Federline to a former pop star mother prone to vagina-flashing, poorly lip-synced breaks with reality or to to the background-dancing father who impregnated his way to parasitic fame and fortune, a judge ruled on Monday to allow Britney Spears and her ex-husband to continue their joint-neglect arrangement, but did institute a number of court-mandated guidelines the parents need to follow if they hope to keep the state of California from impounding the adorable tykes. But wisely realizing that Spears might need extra help in getting her parenting skills up to an acceptable level, the judge added some supplemental Britney Rules to his decree, as reported by UsMagazine.com's blogspot:
Even billionaire moguls like DreamWorks' Jeffrey Katzenberg are worried about a possible strike; if the Guilds walk out and Hollywood is crippled by a prolonged work stoppage, he might have to temporarily halt the expensive restoration of the damaged floors in his $28 million Deer Valley chalet, lest his "mad money" savings account come dangerously close to dipping below ten figures. [Reuters]
Having subjected Defamer PartyWatcher Ann to all manner of heresy at events like Derby Dolls and Lucha VaVoom, we thought it time to send her to something a little more wholesome. The Hollywood Purity Ball seemed to fit that bill: It's a touching event brought to you by the same folks as the Hollywood Hell House, where virginal daughters dance the night away with their dates—their fathers—while pledging them their purity, until such time as they get married or die. (Yes, these things actually take place.) After being shut out of the original location at the Bulgarian Cultural Center, the event relocated to a former Acapulco restaurant on La Cienega, where Reverend Bill Maher presided over the proceedings with holy panache. Ann's report, and a full image gallery taken by guest photographer Maggie Serrano, follow after the jump:
· Music round-up: Animal Collective at the Henry Fonda; Clap Your Hands Say Yeah at the Troubadour; Sinead O'Connor at the Orpheum.
· Nikki Sixx drops by the Borders in Westwood to talk about his new book detailing the years that the Crüe really knew how to party (i.e., the junkie years).
· Revelry! Refreshments! Resolutions! It's Dip't In Honey: A Happy Jew Year Extravaganza at the Echoplex.
Shocking a world that expected it to return the first ever official "So fucking guilty. I mean, come on, look at that guy!" verdict in the history of American jurisprudence, the jury in the Phil Spector murder trial today instead informed the court that it was unable to reach a verdict in the case. Perhaps suspecting that a number of his jurors had somehow been exposed to the mesmerizing, reasonable-doubt-instilling stare of Team Spector's sad-eyed Great Dane, Judge Larry Paul Fidler sent them home for the day, hoping that they'll return in a more unanimously decisive mood tomorrow. Reports the LAT:
While the scintillating debate about whether Fox's censors directed the profanity-erasing silence-rays of its Sphere of Censorship against Sally Field for either the "goddamned" or "no more...wars" portions of her rambling acceptance speech rages on, we thought it would be fun to share a clip of some the filthy, filthy things that the network's Standards & Practices allowed on the air during the Emmys telecast.
