Paramount/DreamWorks, the studios behind the franchise, set the movie to premier in 2011. The director said he wants more time, and maybe take some time off. Maybe our hulking iron behemoth will get his creative juices flowing.

The gigantic machine has treads because driving it to its home in a German open-air coal mine was cheaper than having to ship the behemoth there. Couldn't they have just attached rockets and had it fly there like Optimus Prime? Bay will show them how!

More pictures and stats here.

We don't know! We asked our tipster and he said he couldn't see since he pulled up so close to snap the pic but added, "I have a feeling she's controlling the driver with her mind." Ha!

So, who knows what clear is riding around Tinsel Town in a metallic vehicle? Has Tom Cruise bought his extraterrestrial child her own Lexus hardtop convertible already? Or does automaton bride Katie Holmes have the help ferry Miss Suri around town in it when she thinks she can dance? Maybe a fellow cultist fan who wants to get in good with the boss? The ghost of L. Ron Hubbard?! If one of you out there has the answer, leave us a comment or send us an email.

Take Roger Ebert's scathing review for the Chicago Sun-Times:

If you want to save yourself the ticket price, go into the kitchen, cue up a male choir singing the music of hell, and get a kid to start banging pots and pans together. Then close your eyes and use your imagination.

Oh, sad robot.

Ray Bennett at the Hollywood Reporter is equally dismissive:

Bay's team of four editors stitch together smashing but meaningless images, though it's as difficult to make out which machine is which as it is to tell what anyone is saying. The noise level — not helped by Steve Jablonsky's relentless score — is super-intense and everyone yells lines at high speed. Because nothing they're saying makes any sense, it's hardly important.

LaBeouf gets little chance to show what charm he might have. Meanwhile, Fox has little to do except look great in a tank top and tight jeans while running in slow motion through flying sand.

Variety and a couple other pubs actually enjoyed the thing, if only for the slickness of the stupidity. But while we're fully expecting the movie to ravage the Fourth of July holiday box office like so many crazed alien robots ravage the lurid curves of Megan Fox, we also wonder how long this dumb-but-bracing genre of summer action pic can last. What with a big, big hit like Star Trek earning glowing notices and being zingy and CGI-packed. Can a schlockist like Michael Bay continue to tread water when more and more talented directors—both visualists and storytellers—successfully raise the bar?

Let's hope not. We mean, watching a toaster come alive and eat Shia LaBeouf may have its place in the world, but it's also nice to at least begin to care about characters and revel in a witty turn of phrase here and there. "Run, oh God, run! The angry space Egyptian robots are coming," barely even counts for camp value these days.

1) "Which hunky A-lister checks himself into swanky hotels under the alias 'King Kong'?" [NYDN] [Hunky? Gotta be Peter Jackson.]

2) "This B list television and movie actor is more famous for his current television role, than any movie in which he has appeared. Filming of his show is delayed by hours everyday, because our actor refuses or is unwilling to learn his lines each day and therefore necessitates take after take after take for him to finish his scenes." [CDaN]

3) "This funny actor wasn't kidding when he copped a total diva attitude on the set of a recent movie. While every other actor would walk from their trailer to the set, Diva Boy insisted on taking a golf cart. The set was an entire thirty feet from his trailer.

No It's Not Will Ferrell." [BlindGossip]

1) Fast & Furious — $72.5 million
Good lord. You people really wanted to see this damn movie. It's the biggest April opening ever, the biggest ever for Universal, and the biggest ever opening for a movie about four tired old people who thought they'd have better jobs in ten years so they didn't do the first sequel but here we go, what the fuck, no one's banging down our doors, so we'll do the third sequel. So there's celebrating in Hollywood today, and somewhere some dumpy stoner in Silver Lake has just created a Word document ominously titled "Fast and Five-ious."

2) Monsters vs. Aliens — $33.5 million
Down 44% from its boffo debut last weekend, this is yet another computer animated 3D kids thing that just tramps along mercilessly, leaving destruction and Sour Patch Kid-mouth burns in its sugary wake. It's gobbled up a total of $105 million in its first two weeks of release, making it the fastest movie about Reese Witherspoon being a gigantic nuisance to reach the $100 million mark since Sweet Home Alabama came whiskey-farting out of the gate back in 1989.

3) & 4) The Haunting in Connecticut, Knowing — $9.6, $8.1 million
Two schlocky genre pictures that are holding on decently, if not terrifically. Knowing has lured in some $58 million in ticket sales in three weeks, and is proving a moderate success for fledgling schlock purveyor, Summit Entertainment. Connecticut is just further proof that people like cheaply-made ghosties, especially if they come belching out of teenage boys' mouths while creepy sepia-toned old people look on in muted delight. So what does this mean? Put Nic Cage in one of those damn horror movies and you can just start printing money. If he drives a crazy muscle car, too, just imagine.

6) Adventureland — $6 million
Though the film had mostly positive reviews, Greg Mottola's nostalgic look at youth didn't connect at the box office. It was in sixth place and earned only six million dough-lars, so maybe there's a third six out there.... Oh! It stars six people: Martin Starr, Jesse Eisenberg, Kristen Swan, Ryan Reynolds, Kristen Wiig, and Bill Hader. Six. Six. Six. Who knew a sweet movie about growing up lost and confused in the leafy but barren Pittsburgh suburbs of the 1980's could be the work of the Morning Star. Someone get Nic Cage on the case, fastly and furiously!

10) Sunshine Cleaning — $1.9 million
Chugging along with a nice $3,900 per-screen average, this little quirk fest is doing decent indie business. It probably won't become a smash and open super wide like its obvious inspiration, Little Miss Sunshine, but it might rack up a nice little bundle nonetheless. Hopefully it'll keep Emily Blunt's bright shiny star on the rise, because she's just really really good in pretty much everything.

I say 'racially embarrassing' because the producers are so tone-deaf that they think we won't find it suspicious or annoying that, because it's Motown week apparently, there's a special emphasis on bee-bopping close ups of the black people in the Idol band. Get it? Because they're Black People! And this week is about Black People Music! Bah.

Anyway.

The Good(ish)
There were a few performances that hit the spot. Allison was, once again, good as hell. Simon seems desperate to get her booted, though, which he demonstrated with his thunder-stealing "let's draw a mustache on Paula" antics. He's trying to distract you so you don't vote for her! Vote for her! Kris Allen was gooey and good and flutey again on "How Sweet It Is" and we all (ALL OF US) continue to tumble into love with him. Matt Giraud did a serviceable but slightly discomforting "Let's Get It On," while Lil' Rounds was just aight on an overly belty "Heatwave." Simon criticized her, but of course had to add a little coda that "just in case anyone forgets, you're one of our best singers." Sigh.

The Bad
Roughneck Sarver is Dialidol's fave to go home tonight, and I'll have to agree with them. I can't tell if his lazy performances are arrogance, nerves, exhaustion, or some combination of the three, but they're dirge-like to watch. Same goes for poor Scott, who continues to flounder toward irrelevance with his bangy-bangy piano pastiches to soft-rock covers of once-great songs. Megan Joy flamed-out terrifically with her completely off-key, screechy "For Once In My Life," though, once again, her stunning good looks might protect her. Anoop is guilty of badness by boringness. He sounded fine... but he just makes no impact whatsoever. Gokey was herky-jerky and tiresome again. The criticism that an Idol performance reads like karaoke is thrown around way too often, but it's just sooo applicable here. His could-be-drunk mug-dancin', his sloppy vocals, and his shit-eating "Nailed it!" expression at the end of each performance is just forcefully annoying and reeks of a 'raoke regular who thinks they own the place.

How Do You Solve a Problem Like Adam Lambert?
OK, yes. He got rid of the ridiculous rocker grrrl clothes. He smoothed back his hair-hat into a sort of Elvis pompadour. He whisper-glistened through "Tracks of My Tears" pleasantly enough. But I did take a good look at his face, as instructed, and it was spackled with fifteen pounds of pancake makeup and horrible Skipper-doll lip gloss. Yes, his singing was decent and not shrieky like it usually is, but... there's just something so terrifically off about him. It's like his skin doesn't fit. Can you imagine trying to endure a two hour Adam Lambert concert? I would have the awkward heebie-jeebies for days. Ten points to Hufflepuff for trying something new and more modest, but I'm gonna have to take those ten points right back for the wearing of a Skinsuit that's two sizes too big.

Goodbyes
It's either Sarver, who could be rescued by the "awww gee, he's got babies" vote, or Scott, who could be rescued by the "well, he's, you know, blind and stuff" vote. If those two contingents are strong enough, look for the clucking Megan Joy to get beheaded and run around the stage.

Questions
Paula. Three tons of jewelry and a tutu? Why?

Also no longer on the sponsorship payroll are great American hopes like golfer Tiger Woods and all those noble heroes who work in movies—GM will no longer funnel money, like Jane Fonda to the Vietcong, to the Academy Awards. Those two entities, though, can probably bounce back with their remaining kajillions intact. Burns, on the other hand, relied pretty heavily on GM's 35% stake in each of his films (like The Civl War and Jazz), and benefited in goodwill and prestige from the educational outreach the automotive manufacturer coordinated for each premiere.

A GM spokesperson keeps their reasoning short and simple:

We've been proud to be associated with Ken's work over the years, as he is certainly the 'gold standard' of documentary filmmaking. But the company's financial crisis has forced GM to rein in such spending.

Were this a Burns film (which generally air on PBS), this would be the point where the camera pans across the spokesperson's letter or email or whatever, while Joan Allen reads it aloud. The folksy music would swell or dip, and we'd get a great, choked-up feeling in our chests.

Much the same feeling Rick Wagoner gets when he looks at his bonus checks. As read to him, at great expense, by Joan Allen.

1997 Black Infiniti J30 4D Automatic with Leather and Moonroof. - $2200 (Koreatown)

129k miles. Two owners. All in all it’s a great car with a few minor mechanical and cosmetic issues:

The alternator needs to be replaced because it’s not charging the battery. My mechanic says it will cost around $250(parts and labor) to replace.

The body has a few small scratches and minor dings. No rust.

There is a deep crescent shaped scratch on the front windshield, left by the bottom edge of a formerly malfunctioning wiper blade. It’s barely noticeable except in direct sunlight and at night when illuminated by oncoming traffic.

There’s a small crack in the exhaust system that doesn’t seem to affect performance but it does give the car the idle of a much larger vehicle.

The front driver-side power window is not working but can be easily slid up and down with ones outstretched palm and a little finesse. All the other windows work perfectly (Except the rear drivers side window, which really doesn’t like to go down more than a quarter of the way.)

The Infiniti emblems in the center of each rim have pretty much faded away but they’d look nice spray painted black or covered with band stickers.

There’s something wrong with the fan belt. Again performance doesn’t seem to be affected much, though, when driven under 70mph, it does make a metallic shrieking noise like the Ringwraiths from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. If you haven’t seen those films then I suppose it sounds a lot like a pig being stabbed. This is nothing to worry about if you live in a bad neighborhood and don’t need to impress anyone.

The car has an amazing Bose CD/Tape player stereo system. The CD player works great. The tape deck on the other hand has an old mixtape lodged inside it, but who listens to tapes anymore really. Also the volume dial has become a bit finicky over the years. I don’t recommend playing with it as I have it set at a comfortable volume and even the slightest touch will turn the stereo up to it’s maximum volume. In case this happens, you should turn down both the bass and treble and balance/fade the stereo to the right rear speaker. In this state you should be able to listen to news or talk radio, if all the windows are down. Also some of the stereo’s important buttons are missing because of an incident with a very powerful coin operated vacuum. With a bit of practice though you’ll be able to work it just fine. And the retractable antenna no longer retracts but it keeps trying.

The under carriage guard is missing. More accurately, it was lost during a night of blackout drinking. Also part of the front passenger side wheel hub was lost that same night. I drove the car a distance of 5 miles without a front passenger tire and the sparks from my rim scrapping the road, lightly singed the paint on the front fender just above the wheel. Honestly this is just a theory as I was drinking that night as well. Rubbing compound and elbow grease should make it look a lot better.

On the bottom of the drivers side door there’s a small gash where I hit a broken cinder block a few years back. There’s a matching gash in roughly the same spot on the passenger side. That one just seemed to show up one day. Again, I recommend rubbing compound.

Despite the above cosmetic flaws the car looks great, inside and out, on misty nights, under a layer of dew. These nights are great for dates or business dinners where you’ll need to chauffeur clients. Generally speaking, most of the cars flaws will go unnoticed if your passenger has had more than 4-5 alcoholic beverages.

Recently Smogged

The interior is basically clean. On humid days though you might smell the slightest hint of goat cheese or stale milk, due in part, and this is just a guess, to a small amount of my girlfriend’s dried vomit hiding under the front passenger seat, where the coin-operated vacuum, mentioned above, could not reach.

The check engine light and abs brake service light are on but my mechanic assures me that it’s a fuse issue and not an engine or abs brake issue.

One of the best things about the car is that in its current condition you need not ever worry about it being stolen or messed with. In fact I once neglected to replace the front driver side window for four months, after it was shattered by two brawling teens. And in that time the car was not once burglarized or urinated in. I attribute this to the fact that my J30 projects a palpable menace. It’s the car of a violent crystal meth dealer or your new Korean girlfriend’s abusive ex-boyfriend.

If you’re interested in taking a look you can meet me on the 6th floor of the Arclight Hollywood’s parking structure where it failed to start after a showing of Gran Torino, staring Clint Eastwood. (A bit corny but actually not that bad)

The Kelley Blue book value for a 97 J30’s in good condition is $3,770, however I will entertain offers as low as $2200.

Thank You.

Shhh. Anything any of us could say right now will just diminish the afterglow.

• 1997 Black Infiniti J30 4D Automatic with Leather and Moonroof. - $2200 (Koreatown) [Craigslist]

Since the network apparently decided to cut their losses with a 17-episode order—a move THR strongly suspects means Val Kilmer has sputtered his last, "Shifting us into Uranium-Assisted Hybrid Turbodrive should get us there in time, Michael. Hey look to the right—it's the new Heroes: The Ride attraction at Universal Studios Hollywood!"

• 'Knight Rider' to halt production early [THR]

• WATCH VIDEO

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After wisely and deftly ignoring questions from the paparazzi regarding, of all things, Britney Spears' guest appearance on How I Met Your Mother, a wide-eyed Piven hopped into the driver's seat of his safari-ready meat wagon and rode off into the fluorescent light. But apparently even pricey gas guzzlers run out of steam, no matter how utterly awesome their drivers are. As the very sober and coherent observers at the nearby gas station where Jeremy pulled a switcheroo inform us, a $20 bill and salivation over peanuts played major roles in the twisted tale. We await the inevitable minute-by-minute updates on the orphaned car and the triumphant return of its owner from TMZ, surely camped out at the scene of the crime, with fractional interest.

• WHY CAN'T JEREMY PIVEN DRIVE HOME? [TMZ]

Let me rephrase: Not many people had both read it and parsed it. (Unfortunately, and strangely, the story is not yet online. Update: Now it is. ) Samuels' piece, unlike Vanessa Grigoriadis' think piece in last month's Rolling Stone, is not so much the tale of an American tragedy as the tale an American economy. (Photo agency X17 estimates its 2007 Britney-related gross to be some $3 million, or 25% of its entire revenue.) Nor is it, as one blogger attests, the "worst piece by David Samuels I have ever read." In essence, it is a nice bit of gonzo journalism (without the fear and loathing) centered around cars: fancy ones, and the money it takes to buy them (achieved via Hollywood stardom, or the pursuit of and profit from that stardom); fast ones (used to either flee or follow, depending on one's place on the Hollywood food chain); and fatal ones. (Britney's death by car is foreshadowed some four times in the article.) For whatever reason, it reminded me of Tarantino's Death Proof — one paparazzo's car is described as a "stripped-down steel cage that looks ready for Le Mans or Dakar" — with a lot less blood, fewer laughs, a phalanx of burly Brazilians standing in for Kurt Russell and a star-turn by a whiter, more drugged up, more famous radio star.

The conceit is simple: Samuels, who has also written for Harper's and The New Yorker, embeds himself with a team of paparazzi employed by X17 (whose pictures this site publishes dozens of times a week) and assigned specifically to Britney Spears. (The total number of paparazzi following Spears on any given day, Samuels reports, is upwards of 40.) The team is made up of an eight-member, mostly Brazilian team of shooters known as "MBF" who seem alternately bemused and beleaguered by their jobs. (They can make between $800 and $3,000 a week plus bonuses.) The story's supporting cast includes X17's owners, Francois and Brandy Navarre, their $5 million Pacific Palisades mansion (Adam Sandler is a neighbor), and a host of angry, mostly-black office workers who admonish the paparazzi as they lie in wait for Spears outside a Los Angeles courthouse. (Britney's reported lover, paparazzo Adnan Ghalib, also makes a brief cameo).

And of course, there are the cars. In pursuit of Britney, Samuels and his borrowed band of merry thieves go from on-the-street stakeouts high in the Hollywood Hills to the parking garages of fancy hotels and the exteriors of downtown Los Angeles court buildings with their automobiles: black Audis, Ford Crown Victorias (car of choice for the LAPD), Porsche Cayennes, BMW trucks, silver Mercedes', Land Rovers, Ford Explorers (one of which was famously attacked by a bald, umbrella-wielding Spears in February 2007) and of course, Britney's white Mercedes SL65. Interestingly, many of the paparazzi are former valet parkers; one owned two used car lots in his native Brazil. But back to the cars:

At 4:44, the radio crackles. "She's out! She's out! She's out!" I jump into Fabricio's car and we drive fast down Coldwater Canyon "Don't tell me shes' going to Four Seasons Again, or I will kill myself," Fabricio moans. Maxi, the Argentinian, is driving like a maniac in the wrong lane and trying to cut back into the queue. "He's new, so he's totally desperate," Fabricio says. "He's an amateur." He radios ahead for directions. Britney is at a record store. As everyone jumps from his car and rushes to the store window, I follow two of the paparazzi into a parking garage. A door opens, and I find myself standing next to her.

"Hi Britney," I say. She looks at me and smiles brightly. "Hi," she says. "Happy Thanksgiving." One of the photographers asks her how her Thanksgiving is going so far. "Good," she says. Her eyes roll back in her head as she smiles. A Brazilian pap lowers his camera and opens her car door, as if he is still working at valet parking. The pop star gets into her car and starts driving straight toward a concrete wall.

The potential upside of waiting 12 or 14 hours a day, six or seven days a week, is the chance that one day Britney will roll her car into a ditch.

When Britney Spears fulfills her apparent fate and dies in a fiery car crash, or overdoses on prescription medication, it will be surpassingly strange if MBF misses the shot.

Britney runs over a photographer's foot, can't seem to decide whether she is turning right or left, and blunders into the median strip. She rolls down her window for a quick second and looks around, confused, then lurches forward, nearly colliding with another car.

"When I ask [paparazzo Luiz Betat] what the pictures the pack is waiting for next, he shrugs. 'Now I think she can have a little car accident," he says simply.

Britney, claim the paps, is in on all of it, as does TMZ's Harvey Levin, although he is careful to qualify that assertion by saying that she is also "seriously mentally ill". Her manager, Sam Lufti, tells X17's Brandy Navarre that Britney reads the message boards on photo agency's blog, X17 Online, and comments on the pictures they post of her. (There is also a rumor that when she's unhappy with the shots, she goes out a few days later and restages them.) There is no evidence that Britney restages driving shots, but it's likely that even she — in her drug-addled and/or mentally ill mind — has enough sense not to restage high speed chases down Mulholland Drivea and become another Princess Diana. Likely.

Suddenly, a pair of headlights appears at the bottom of the ramp. The photographers start shooting, and then they run for their cars. Felix drives a new BMW truck. I jump inside, and as the pack swings up Coldwater Canyon at a scarily high speed, the other MBF drivers box out the competition so Felix can pull up alongside Britney and shoot video. The star is blasting a song from her new album, Blackout, through her open passenger-side window and singing along. She looks lost in her own world, a rich girl singing to herself in a white Mercedes. "Britney is unpredictable," Felix shouts, as he films her driving. "She might stop and take her clothes off, I don't know."

Shooting Britney [The Atlantic]
The Celebrity Hunters [The Atlantic]

Related: Everyone Officially A Tabloid Or About To Become One [Gawker]
The Lady Doth Protest Too Much [Gawker]
Britney For Smart People [Huffington Post]

The governor, who used to offer movie set visits to young Angelenos, apparently determined those kids would rather get high than accept his visits to Sacramento to tour the State Capitol:

[Schwarzenegger] said he plans to offer the rides to inner-city children in the Los Angeles area as a reward for staying in school, avoiding drugs and working hard.

Warren Motts, founder and director of Motts Military Museum, said Schwarzenegger acquired the M47 American-made tank from the Austrian government and had it shipped to Florida. He transported it to a Columbus, Ohio, shopping mall in 1999 when he opened a Planet Hollywood there.

Schwarzenegger lent the tank to the museum, located in Groveport, in 2000.

Indeed, the tank is old hat for Groveport kids, well-known to ritualistically enjoy furtive, drunken orgies in its steely confines every prom night since the beginning of the decade but who now must prepare for their own school-sanctioned, fake-ID'd return to the shitty old Planet Hollywood 15 miles down the road in Columbus. If only their governor had been an Austrian Army deserter-turned-celebrity bureaucrat. Tough break, gang.

• Schwarzenegger Has Tank Returned From Museum [HuffPo]

Sources tell Hollyscoop EXCLUSIVELY that actress Mischa Barton was arrested in the wee hours this morning! She was handcuffed and arrested at 2:46AM last night and booked at 3:10AM.

Mischa was arrested on the corner of La Cienega and Santa Monica Blvd in Los Angeles late last night in her white Range Rover for Driving Under the Influence and driving without a license.

Her bail amount is set at $10,000.

TMZ also reports that the thespian who so vividly brought Marissa Cooper's every pool-furniture-thrashing to life on The O.C. is still in custody, that the Sheriff's Department's "Inmate Information Center" mistakenly input her name as "Mischa Burton," and that she was charged with possession of narcotics—ominous italics ours. (A white Christmas?) We promise to update you with a mugshot just as soon as one is made available, and that shouldn't be long, but may we suggest using the few minutes until then for a booking-shot guessing game? Half-smile? One eye closed? Nolte hair? Place your bets.

• Mischa Barton Arrested! [Hollyscoop]

Looking for something full price? We have plenty of other shirts, too, including Douché, New York: If You Can Make It Here, You Must Have a Trust Fund, and I Hate Your Kids.

Yes, I'm Quietly Judging You [The Gawker Shop]

Looking for something cleaner? We have plenty of other shirts, too, including Yes, I'm Quietly Judging You and New York: If You Can Make It Here, You Must Have a Trust Fund.

Pure Filth ]The Gawker Shop]