It's been rumored since the show went off the air two years ago, but it looks the Arrested Development movie is finally a go. While in the UK to promote his upcoming role in the Will Smith vehicle Hancock, costar Jason Bateman let slip that the embattled Bluths are finally reuniting on the big screen:
We've never known David Cronenberg to pull any punches, which is why we're more than a little skeptical of the Rosanna Arquette Crash BreastMilkGate scandal presently unfolding thanks to Page Six. It all goes back to 1996, when the actress joined Cronenberg's infamous NC-17 paean to car-crash sexuality less than a year after giving birth to her first daughter. The director, whose handling of everything from mutant children to maggot babies over the years seemed so normal until then, later gave the elder, breastfeeding Arquette a long once-over before her sex in the wreckage with James Spader:
Last night's episode of Living Lohan was filled to the brim with heartbreak. Emotions, both minutely real and highly fake, were on display for the cameras. The actual sound of Dina's skin cracking as her now-infamous crocodile tears struggled to liquefy was audible. And, as every Dina-phile knows, each opportunity to feign care for her cherished cash cow kids brings another lesson from the one and only Mother of the Century. After watching Dina and her brood prepare for a wild 'n crazy trip to Las Vegas that may or may not be ruined by lovable lush/I Know Who Killed Me fan Nana Lohan, Defamer Video Vixen Molly McAleer plucked three classic family values as illustrated by Dina herself:
Ah, the blind item. Is there any other gossip variety that promises so much while risking so little? Damn you, Rush and Molloy, and your mystifyingly anonymous puzzlers, better suited for stenciling along a child's bookcase in a Yuppie House of Mysteries than for print. Nevertheless, out with your Blind Item Decoder Rings, everyone. It's now up to you, the endlessly clever membership of The Official Defamer Detectives Club®, to get to the bottom of The Case of The Gay Divorcé:
Pity Anna Nicole Smith's one-year-old daughter Dannielynn, who will grow up never having known her exhaustively documented mother. A tragedy to be sure, but one that fame-hungry babydaddy Larry Birkhead is determined to resolve in the most unorthodox fashion possible. If only there were some way (besides granting paid exclusives to The Insider) he could show Dannielynn just how much her mother meant to him...
After coming from way ahead to lose Game 4 of the NBA Finals and leaving a less-than-stimulated Hollywood A-list in courtside development hell, the ultimate indignity of the Lakers' lost season came down to this weekend and one impromptu freestyle session Shaquille O'Neal. The deposed center, who never quite got over Kobe Bryant's comments that he might have avoided that whole rape-charge imbroglio a while back if he'd just followed Shaq's (alleged) lead and "paid his women," took the mic at a New York club and fired off a few of his traditionally clunky rhymes ("You know how I be/Last week Kobe couldn't do without me ... I'm a horse/Kobe ratted me out, that's why I'm getting divorced") before finally delivering the official Feel-Good Anthem of the Summer — and probably the de facto chant for the remainder of Kobe's career road games. It's catchier than Gary Glitter, anyway. [TMZ]
Move over Norma Desmond — Katherine Heigl is here. After Heigl's baffling antics over the past few weeks, namely snubbing her Grey's Anatomy fame enablers and any fan who may have actually enjoyed her pretty neurotic mess of a character on the show, this clip of Heigl voicing her disgust with "writers?!?" proves just how big Heigl's nicotine-scented head has grown. And to make matters worse, the images awaiting you after the jump of Heigl vacationing with emasculated husband Joshua Kelley, in which her emasculated servant is used as both her kickboxing target and ashtray give new meaning to Desmond's infamous diva-turned-delinquent madwoman trajectory. Catch Heigl at her heights while you can before the inevitable backlash to the backlash to the backlash begins, after the jump:
Once again, some noble crusader has invaded Photobucket and dug up some scurrilous photos of young celebrities at play. In today's batch, one of the Olsen twins (we suspect Mary-Kate) is partying with some friends, most of whom are dressed in flannel, including famous rich person's daughter Nicole Richie and her man friend, rocker Joel Madden. The kids are pictured in some sort of wood-paneled mansion, playing with a piñata and smoking cigarettes. It's unclear when these were taken or whose birthday (it's a birthday, right?) they were celebrating, but Nicole Richie seems to be making a point of showing that she's not drinking in one of the photos. So perhaps it was while she was pregnant. Do your own sleuthing around the big brown mansion in a photo gallery, after the jump.
Triple-digit temperatures can drive a woman to do nutty things, but in the case of Courtney Love, it's not a very long drive. Inspired, perhaps, by the 1920s wardrobe worn by Angelina Jolie in Clint Eastwood's upcoming The Changeling, the skeletal Hole singer rang in the weekend by swanning through Malibu dressed up as a ghost flapper. Said the concerned Daily Mail:
After the troubling events that brought Season One of The Two Coreys to its Corey-splintering conclusion, we honestly weren't sure if we'd ever see the two best friends and faded idols in the same room again. Still, as all of Hollywood knows by now, Haim is ready to work, and work—that undependable mistress—eventually came: Haim was a last-minute addition to The Lost Boys 2, necessitating the above reunion in a diner booth. And while we've always enjoyed the lightly structured drama that propels each and every episode, nothing prepared us for the bombshell revelations that would come tumbling out of the Bottomless Coffee Thermos of Shame. Did Corey H. just say he was "raped?" Did Corey F. just respond by saying he was "molested?"
Keeping in mind all the optimistic overdrive before and after Sex and the City's $57 million opening weekend, the putative Chick-Flick Revolution should probably feel a little more dug in right now than it actually is. But such is life for the accidental genre, which received another once-over on Sunday at the LAFF when writer-director Diane English discussed (and briefly previewed) her troubled updating of the 1939 all-female ensemble dramedy The Women — a/k/a "Unreleaseable Meg Ryan Project," the subject of its own endless drama and speculation as Warner Bros. determines how it plans to bury it.
There exists a certain type of filmgoer (I know him intimately, for he is me) whose weakness can be summed up in four words: "Robots with Human Emotions." This sort of film fan grew up on movies like Short Circuit, thrilled to videos like Bjork's "All Is Full of Love," and even has been caught defending A.I. Artificial Intelligence (you take the good with the bad, people). A 30-second clip of Pixar's Wall-E could drive a man like this to tears, but for the other 99% of the population it will provoke nothing but head-shaking, for the $180 million Wall-E contains virtually no dialogue.
While most old folks would reward a query like, "Tell me about your fourgies, Grandpa!" with a sharp caning, Playboy founder Hugh Hefner is of a different breed. In his upcoming book, Mr. Playboy: Hugh Hefner and the American Dream, Steven Watts convinced the swinging octogenarian to open up about his earliest sexual adventures, including one aborted wife swap that led the mogul to seek out friendlier, more familiar partners. Says Page Six:
· Disney may have another "bankable tyke-and-tween franchise" (why does that phrase sound vaguely offensive and child-pornish?) in Camp Rock, says Variety, with 8.9 million viewers tuning in to watch the Jonas Brothers sing their newest hit, "(Yuck!) There's A Mosquito in My S'mores." [Variety]
· DreamWorks bought a comedy pitch called Home Schooled, about a 30-year-old man who was home schooled and is now heading off to college. The clash of cultures is sure to yield hilarious results! [THR]
· Tom Hanks sides with AFTRA in the escalating SAG-AFTRA feud. [Variety]
· Plastic pony fetishist Sloane Crosley's book of short, personal essays, I Was Told There'd Be Cake, was purchased by HBO for development into a possible series. [Variety]
· Supernatural EP Eric Kripke has signed a two-year deal with Warner Bros.TV, which—get ready to be spooked out—secures his showrunner duties on the shows upcoming fourth season on The CW. [Variety]
Judd Apatow's comedy-godfather status isn't quite translating overseas, The New York Times noted in a probing piece on Sunday. While the filmmaker-producer looks set for a late-summer spike in the States with the upcoming Step Brothers and Pineapple Express, his signature blend of pop-culture refraction and infantile male bonding has come to symbolize American cinema's rut in Europe and Asia. For disappointing starters, we hear France and South Korea have developed interests of their own outside our sex-and-drug romps, piling panic on top of panic as the dollar crashes and the world turns its back on Genius:
Following last week's surprise announcement that India's Reliance ADA Group would sink a half-billion into DreamWorks, the lines dividing Hollywood and Bollywood continue to blur: Today comes news that national action-hero treasures Sylvester Stallone and Arnold Schwarzenegger have carved some time out of their busy franchise-rebooting / incomprehensible-speechifying schedules to sign on for the most epic Bollywood production of all time. And it's all going down right on the Universal lot, a stone's throw from Steven Spielberg's DreamWorks offices:
Bad news for film fans but delicious news for those of you who love DVD extras: David O. Russell's political comedy Nailed has been shut down again, for the fourth time. As per Nikki Finke, the trouble-plagued production "was shut down by IATSE on Friday for the same reasons as before: crew not getting paid," though Variety reports that filmmaking is scheduled to resume today for two more days of principal photography. As enticing as the film's synopsis sounds (Jessica Biel has nail shot into her forehead, becomes nymphomaniac) we must concur with Hollywood Elsewhere's Jeff Wells, who'd prefer to skip straight to the making-of documentary where the mercurial O. Russell calls Biel a string of nasty names she hasn't heard since Ruthie hit puberty on 7th Heaven.
The heat, a killer surf, and a clear shot of Hollywood's favorite shirt-eschewing leading man was a recipe for disaster this weekend. Having returned from his recent Nicaraguan escapades a proud flop-owner in search of his missing flip, Matthew McConaughey combated our city's punishing heat wave by hitting the tasty breaks of Malibu's Paradise Cove. It was there that several upstanding members of our city's paparazzo community—hoping to catch that elusive, $1 million photo of McConaughey hanging toes to the nose while clutching his newborn—were confronted, and ultimately assaulted, by an intimidating and unruly mob of board-shorted surfing henchmen. From the LAT:
