Once upon a time, a wacky new talk show called Late Night With David Letterman premiered on NBC. And on that very first episode in 1982 was an up-and-coming comic actor by the name of Bill Murray.
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Once upon a time, a wacky new talk show called Late Night With David Letterman premiered on NBC. And on that very first episode in 1982 was an up-and-coming comic actor by the name of Bill Murray.
In an article giving advice to casting directors on under-used actresses they should hire, FilmExperience praises the awesome magical sexy power of Battlestar Galactica's Blonde Tomboy Space Girl. "Katee Sackhoff is a terrific actress. I won't lie and claim that she's undervalued on her breakout show (Battlestar Galactica)... they've leaned on her heavily and she's crafted an indomitable fan-favorite character who has evolved considerably from her first bold sketches four years back."
"Then, and seemingly without dropping a bead of sweat, Katee gave Bionic Woman the only fire it had as its rogue bionic. A bonfire to be more accurate. It was night and day on that show between her scenes and every one else's. Both of those shows have expired or are about to. She's a bonafide super star, if Hollywood would merely point bright lights her way to reflect. Give her a lead role and watch the magic happen."
Oh and about this week's roundup... I thought I could watch Stripes and then catch the midnight showing of Battlestar, but then I fell asleep. I had a really long week and I really, really had to go to bed! I'm sorry Blonde Tomboy Space Girl! I still love you!
If the episode shows up on hulu.com or elsewhere, I'll get a report up asap.
Gal-about-town and soap star Leven Rambin is officially legal today. But take note, Hud Morgan, Mark Ronson and all the other lounge-leaping, boozy 30-something-and-older NYC dudes who think they should get some of the little starlet starting now. She's still a teenager and it's still fucking gross guys! Seriously! Update: I'm being told Hud Morgan is still a shade under 30. Know what, though? Still not really a mitigating factor. Date a freaking grown-up, everyone.
A.S. Hamrah, film critic for blah-blah-ing lit journal N+1, is stuck at the glamorous Cannes Film Festival but it's not as glamorous as it was when it was new, and that makes him sad. "It’s not just that celebrities are dull. More and more, there’s also something about them that fills us with revulsion. It used to be that a celebrity sighting was cause for celebration. You’d phone the wife and kids: 'Hey, I just saw Robert Stack walking into the Automat!' Now it’s more an occasion for jeering. Or, more accurately, a chance to feel a deep queasiness about what’s happened to our culture. The celebrity is quickly becoming a harbinger of nausea, a delivery system for Weltschmerz, there to remind us that things, actually, are what they seem: pathetic."
Whenever I’m in Los Angeles, I experience this unease. I don’t have a name for it. I go out to lunch and worry Sinbad’s going to be sitting across from me. I wait in line at a hot dog stand and hope I don’t spot Carmen Electra.
A celebrity sighting can really ruin your day. At night it’s even worse. Not too long ago I was eating in a favourite restaurant when Mike Myers walked in with a large group I hesitate to call an entourage. As the loveable star of the Austin Powers movies sat down with his people, you could see on the faces of the other diners that their wine had just turned to vinegar. What’s he doing here, their expressions said. What’s he doing in this part of town? Why isn’t he in his own area?
Increasingly, that’s where we want them: away from us. The Bible suggests that the poor will always be with us. Today it’s the rich who will always be with us. If they’re famous on top of it, that makes their presence all the more galling, not to mention disruptive.
Whole neighbourhoods of our cities have turned into ghettos of the celebrated, and there’s nowhere we can go to escape. They will always be with us. Who wants to live across the hall from the breakout star of Survivor: Guatemala? Riding the bus is bad enough without Ashton Kutcher taking the last seat. [TheNational]
"Doctors believe that Senator Edward M. Kennedy of Massachusetts suffered a seizure at his home in Hyannis Port this morning, then a second seizure as he was being transported by helicopter from Cape Cod Hospital to Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston, according to an official briefed on the situation. His condition was unclear early this afternoon, as a special police security detail gathered at Mass General. Kennedy family members were called this morning and told to rush to Boston, according to sources."
"The Hyannis Fire Department responded to an emergency call at the storied Kennedy compound at 8:30 this morning, according to the Cape Cod Times. The senator was rushed to Cape Cod Hospital, then flown to Boston. The newspaper published a photograh of Kennedy, strapped to a gurney, being carried to the chopper.
"Kennedy, 76, is the senior statesman in one of America's political dynasties. He was first elected in 1962 [and portrayed Thomas 'Big Tom' Callahan in 1995's Tommy Boy.—kidding!]" [The Boston Globe via NYT via In Other News]
Despite looking slightly, vaguely puffy in some recent photos, Britney Spears is not expecting a third kid. "U.S. pop singer Britney Spears says she is not pregnant for a third time despite recent photographs showing her with a bloated stomach. The 'Toxic' singer says a new medication she is taking was responsible for her recent weight gain and not a third pregnancy, the Daily Mail reported Saturday. 'I am not pregnant — it is just my medication that makes me bloated,' Spears said of recent pregnancy rumors. A source close to the 'Baby One More Time' star told the British newspaper Spears has struggled with her weight since the birth of her 20-month-old son Jayden James. Meanwhile, a friend of Spears said she is spending some time with actor Mel Gibson and his wife in Central America to help her gain some perspective in her life."
"Mel and his wife Robyn clearly saw a woman in crisis and wanted to extend themselves in any way possible," the unidentified friend told the Daily Mail. There are no expectations, there is no agenda. It's simply an act of human kindness, one neighbor reaching out to another." Aw! Britney has a new friend! [UPI]
Serenity/Firefly and Buffy the Vampire Slayer creator Joss Whedon's upcoming Fox series Dollhouse is profiled today at Entertainment Weekly. And there's new video from the pilot. Eliza Dushku! "Dollhouse follows Dushku's Echo, a mysterious agent with no identity except for the personalities imprinted on her and then deleted by her employer depending on the wishes and needs of wealthy clients. Between assignments, Echo lives inside a cushy secret HQ with other blank-slate dolls in a state of oblivious, hyper-healthy bliss...though as the series unfolds, she's starting to remember stuff she shouldn't." Video after the jump.
"Whedon says that, like Buffy and Firefly, Dollhouse aspires to be both deep (how does society shape, influence, 'program' the individual: discuss!) and fun. A typical episode will see Dushku cycle through three to four personas, making for a wild mix of moods and genres. 'The other day I shot scenes for a 1940s musical dance number and a Mexican spaghetti Western — just for the pilot episode,' says Whedon, kicking back on a plush couch under the stairwell of Dollhouse's set. Says Dushku: 'It's really perfect for my personality, which is kind of ADD. It's nice to not have the same wardrobe every day.''' [EW]
Slowly healing pop tart Britney Spears is reportedly vacationing at Mel Gibson's ranch in Costa Rica. (Ew! He's old!) Anyhoo, this is what she looks like in a bikini lately. I wanna go to the beach too! Waaah!
More pics here.
The latest issue of Interview includes a photo spread of designer Marc Jacobs doing a rather poor David Bowie circa Scary Monsters. Or maybe it's good? I don't know anything about fashion. More after the jump.
[via BryanBoy]
Tricia Walsh-Smith, the whacky would-be-ex of Schubert Organization president Philip Smith is continuing to broadcast her mad, mad, mad, mad diary to the world. In this week's episode, there is dancing. And gnashing of teeth.
So what caused Bill O'Reilly's now-infamous Inside Edition meltdown? This new video featuring his abusive producer provides some answers. Okay, it really doesn't, but it's funny.
[via CollegeHumor]
"To its detractors, Park Slope is both haunt and hatchery of New York’s smuggest limousine-liberal yuppies. It is, if I may further summarize the bad publicity, overrated and hypocritical. Its glorious brownstone blocks and jaunty cafes are awash in carpetbagger entitlement, ruled by snarling 'Stroller Nazis.' The neighborhood is a ground zero of all that is twee and lame. It is, God forbid, the suburbs." Well done. But what do the anonymous blog commenters have to say, New York Times?
“Park Slope isn’t even part of Brooklyn anymore,' wrote one commenter on Gothamist. "It’s seriously a lower rung of hell, filled with hateful English teachers." And on Eater.com, one posted comment said: "Park Slope and its ilk are why NYC is becoming more and more pathetic by the day."
And the locals?
"Park Slope is a perfect storm of stereotypes that provoke derision,” said Steven Johnson, a local writer and a father of three. “Since Park Slope is the neighborhood most explicitly associated with urban parenting, it attracts the wrath of people who think parents have gone way overboard. I imagine there’s some horror fantasy fusion: the well-off Park Sloper and co-op member who is obsessed with his kids. Oh, wait, I just described myself.”
By the same token, when we talk about “people who hate Park Slope,” we are talking in large part about a certain stratum of the chattering, Twittering class. “This whole thing sounds like white people being annoyed by and jealous of other white people, which I find kind of funny,” said James Bernard, a union organizer and a member of the local Community Board 6. “I live in the Slope. I love it. I talk about it as much as anyone else does. But I founded a charter school near Brownsville and I don’t hear anyone talking about Park Slope over there.” [NYT] [photo: Nicole Bengiveno]
James Frey—the whining, lying-ass, horrible writer who was probably never seriously addicted to anything in his whole sad, pampered, no-talent life—may have duped The New York Times into giving his new novel a drooling rave. But he received much saner treatment from David L. Ulin at The Los Angeles Times. "'Bright Shiny Morning' is a terrible book. One of the worst I've ever read [...] Two and a half years after he was eviscerated by Oprah Winfrey for exaggerating many of the incidents in his now-discredited memoir 'A Million Little Pieces,' he's back with this book, which aims to be the big novel about Los Angeles, a panoramic look at the city that seeks to tell us who we are and how we live."
"Bright Shiny Morning" is an execrable novel, a literary train wreck without even the good grace to be entertaining.
Written as an Altman-esque collage, it follows several parallel story lines that never coalesce. The idea is to trace a collective vision of the city, high and low, from Hollywood to the Valley to East L.A. — an attempt to get at the fluidity of Los Angeles.
There's Old Man Joe, a drunk who inhabits a bathroom on the Venice boardwalk and seeks mystical affirmation in a daily ritual. Or Amberton Parker, a St. Paul's and Harvard-educated Oscar-winning actor, who lives a perfect life with his wife and children and has a secret. (Bet you can't guess what it is.)
As a connective device, Frey interweaves a series of short passages outlining the history of L.A., beginning with the founding of the Pueblo and extending to the present day. Yet this strategy ends up as a metaphor for all that's wrong with the book. These bits read like encyclopedia entries, devoid of soul or personality, so generic as to be inconsequential, as if Frey has no interest or engagement in what he has chosen to write about.
That's the issue with "Bright Shiny Morning" — or one of them, anyway. Frey seems to know little about Los Angeles and to have no interest in it as a real place where people wrestle with actual life. There are obligatory riffs on freeways and natural disasters and a chapter on visual artists that lists "the highest price ever paid for a piece of their work in a public auction." There are also occasional installments of "Fun Facts" about the city, as if to give the illusion of a certain depth. Did you know that it is "illegal to lick a toad within the city limits of Los Angeles"? Neither did I. But I also don't know what this has to do with the larger story of the novel, except as another example of L.A. as odd and quirky, a territory in which we all "live with Angels and chase their dreams."
Frey, of course, intends this to be amusing, lighthearted and witty in tone. ("Learning fun facts is really an enjoyable, and sometimes enlightening process," he writes. "And, of course, it's fun too!!!") It comes off as two-dimensional, however, not to mention poorly written and conceived — much like the book's narrative elements.
More heart-warming examples of garbage being called garbage here.
So why did magnificent hottie Karen Allen pretty much disappear off the face of the earth after Animal House and Raiders of the Lost Ark before finally returning for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull? (Starman doesn't count!) "[A]t some point she went to go knit in the Berkshire Mountains. There was also a marriage followed nine years later by divorce, and single motherhood that would, in concert with the dwindling Hollywood career and the shock of 9/11, prompt her to quit Manhattan permanently for the Berkshires. She had done summer theater in Stockbridge, Mass.; she felt at home there. With her Hollywood money she'd purchased an 18th century barn and remade it; the place came with its own beaver pond, and Allen added a hot tub. She cleared the attic of bats and made it into a master suite with its own sunken bath and office." But now she's back! Yay!
Allen, 56, appears to have left her face alone and kept her body trim with yoga (she used to run a yoga studio here in Great Barrington). 'People all want to know why I haven't been doing more films,' she said, sitting over coffee at her country breakfast table several weeks ago and shooing away one of her cats with a spray bottle.
"These days all somebody has to do is Google you and they know how old you are. I would show up for roles that were written for somebody in their early 50s, and people would say, 'You can't do that, you look too young,' but if I showed up for a role for somebody in their early 40s then the people would say, 'Well, but she's 50.'
"I'm from a generation of fantastic actresses. It's a big pool of really wonderful actresses, and so many of them we never even get to see on the screen anymore."
She ticked off several — Jessica Lange, Debra Winger, Julie Hagerty. [LAT]
I...god I'm the last person on this site who should be posting gossip...singer...stuff like this but everyone else is still out at bars and I'm drunk but here is Amy Winehouse playing with eating? baby mice along with what...looks like...Pete Doherty. God I hope any of this is really true because I'm going to bed. HERE IS THE VIDEO. It got a lot of views.