Earlier: Oprah's Favorite Things 2007: The Audience Freaks Out!

Area unattractive person Natalie Portman may be working with the creepily-mustachioed Darren Aronofsky on a new supernatural thriller-chiller. Black Swan is about a prima ballerina who is suddenly threatened by a rival dancer—but is the rival dancer even real? The title is sorta interesting, given all the stuff about Black Swan theory and the creepy, tingling, post-millennial thoughts of destruction and apocalypse it evokes. But, yeah, this is just a movie about ghost ballet. So. [THR]

The Hallmark Channel is doing something with how commercials are aired, by like jiggering with the length and continuity of commercial pods, where like Mutual of Omaha will sponsor a whole, shortened commercial pod, and it's going to revolutionize, maybe, the way sponsorship is delineated and these are important things to discuss, no really they are, because TV is sorta scratching its head right now trying to figure out this whole DVR thing and industries rise and fall and Black Swans occur and here we are powerless to stop it and all, but mostly... Mostly we're just surprised that people want to pay to advertise on the Hallmark Channel. Really, guys? Really? [Variety]

That cutesy-sounding comedy You Again, about Kristen Bell being upset 'cause her brother is marrying a girl who used to make her life a living hell, has rounded out its cast with a bunch of fabulous broads. Like Kristin Chenowith and Sigourney Weaver and Betty White and Jamie Lee Curtis. The film's original title Lady Bits: The Legend of Bear Mountain now seems, more than ever, like it was the right one to go with. [THR]

Local butt-face Leonardo DiCaprio has signed on to star (and produce with his Appian Way movie making company) an as yet untitled thriller about online casinos. Yes, it's true. There are many online casinos and we've known many a young lad who've profited and suffered at their hands. Though that's all a kind of pallid-faced, blue-tinted early evening sadness sort of thing. Not really the stuff of thrillers. But, hell. If you can jazz up cellphones like they did in One Missed Call, sure, why not, you can jazz up internet cards. (Note: They did not jazz up anything in One Missed Call, which should have been called Just Don't Answer the Damn Phone, Shannyn Sossamon.) [Variety]

Thousands of sad people lined up on Sunday in Massachusetts. No, it wasn't a Bruins game. It was for American Idol! Determined to realize their dreams of becoming walking, talking, singing contracts, hopefuls like our proud homegirl Tiffany "Shorty" Dorsey from mighty Walpole (they've got a prison there, you know) showed up and belted-while-crying for the judges. We know it's happened before, Boston, but still some of us thought you were better than this. Nothing terribly Puritanical about weeping in front of Paula Abdul, is there? [THR]

Oh, more girlnews! Paramount has picked up an action-comedy pitch from Liz Meriwether called Honey Pot that is basically about if a bunch of ladies were superspies like Jason Bourne. Surely there'd be a lot more talk about periods and commitment! Meriwether is the salient cultural critic who is also giving us the upcoming TV pilot Sluts and the film Fuckbuddies. And no, we are not making those up! [Variety]

Stuart Beattie, who cowrote the documentary Australia, has been tapped to direct a movie version of Tomorrow When the World Ends. That book is part of a series (The Tomorrow Series) about a group of Aussie teenagers who band together to defend their homeland against invaders. Evidently the film has "youth-targeted themes and PG-13 sex and violence", so that's kind of exciting, but we thought we already covered all this with Home and Away. Isn't that what that was about? Australian teenagers? Saving Australia? Or something? [THR]

Judging by the just-released trailer, anyway. Basically Mark Ruffalo and DiCaps sport rickety Boston drawls and go to a badly-CGI'd island off the coast of Beantown and... creepy stuff happens. People jumping out of cages and saying ominous things in whispered tones, and then apparently everyone goes camping with Patricia Clarkson.

So many questions we have about this one. Is this some sort of stab at J-horror relevancy by the aging Scorsese? Did he try to get Sarah Michelle Gellar but she was just busy or something? What's with the really bad special effects? Maybe is it just going to be a fun thriller with a particularly bad trailer? Only time will tell.

The only thing we do know for certain is that we're a lot less enthused about the project than we were just a day ago.

Apart from a surprise Supporting Actor nod for Michael Shannon's truth-hoarding suburban loony, we face the life-affirming prospect of Revolutionary Road's disappearance from the awards-season scene. Think about it:

· No more shrill DiCaprio or histrionic Winslet bellowing Oscar clips under Sam Mendes's lip-licking, sadistic gaze.

· A foreseeable end to the public gang-rape of source novelist Richard Yates.

· No more Reader vs. Road chatter calculating Winslet's optimal Oscar odds.

· An awardscast without the threat of hearing its theme replayed ad infinitum lest, God forbid, Road won anything.

· The likelihood its box-office will plunge this weekend.

· The likelihood its full-page newspaper ads will cease to exist as early as tomorrow.

· An unofficial rebuke to Mendes and those audience-flagellating hacks who would follow him, cheaply defying the basic laws of art, entertainment and taste.

· Remember that lost wager with Nikki Finke? Best million dollars Harvey Weinstein ever spent.

Join our ovation, will you — piss on its shallow grave below.

So Bad it's Good: The Spirit (Dec. 25). Perhaps it's best to know as little as possible going into this adaptation of Will Eisner's classic 1940s comic series, written and directed by Eisner acolyte Frank Miller in the arresting visual style of his debut (with Robert Rodriguez) Sin City. But the silhouettes, snow and sooty (if green-screened) Central City backdrops are less-convincing a reason to have a look than the gleeful pageantry of Miller's bad taste: The Spirit (Gabriel Macht), essentially a zombie cop turned oversexed masked-vigilante enforcer, introduces himself by way of an epic fight with equally unkillable Central City crime lord The Octopus (Samuel L. Jackson). Mud is thrown, balls are crushed, toilets are slammed, and expectations are dashed. "This," you should expect to mutter to yourself and/or your incredulous date, "is fucking terrible."

Well, kind of. Your first impression — that Miller has no idea what he's doing — eventually surrenders to an intrigue with what he'll do next. Will Scarlett Johansson put her beguiling badness to work as Octopus right-hand Silken Floss, or simply stand around like a line-reading cleavage prop? Will Eva Mendes (as jewel thief Sand Saref) test the PG-13 rating with her de rigeur gratuitous nudity? Will doctor Sarah Paulson ever tire of her male-slut superhero crush? Will Jackson's fat, annoying cloned henchmen ever shut up? And is that actually Sam Jackson up there in Nazi regalia, shouting about eggs?

By the time Miller answers most of these questions, you're already barreling toward The Spirit's climax — a convergence of the hero, villain and their intimates for a hyper-violent This is Your Life variant for the soul of Central City. With spectacle to spare and absolutely no interest in Iron Man's optimism, The Incredible Hulk's self-seriousness or The Dark Knight's social criticism, The Spirit instead emerges as the comics genre's semi-lucid inbred cousin. Hating this movie would be like booing at the Special Olympics.

So Bad it's Bad: Seven Pounds (now playing). At some point one might expect an ebb to the extraordinary critical tsunami that helped devastate Will Smith's morality play. Or at least a backlash of some kind, anything pledging some redeemability to the story of a purported IRS agent making a set of mysterious rounds to help an ensemble of sick, blind and otherwise downtrodden strangers.

Alas, we won't be the ones inaugurating that movement. Seven Pounds is everything its detractors say, with baffling plot contrivances and dramatic ineptitude compounded by the cardinal sin of utter boredom. As Smith's mission crystallizes and his motivations surface — in a twist so random it really does defy spoiling here — the likelihood of any emotional payoff diminishes behind the vast horizon of its star's ego. We imagine Seven Pounds' final 40 minutes may someday acquire some esteem in the Cult-Classic Canon for its adroit interweaving of printing-press repair, bone-marrow transplants, bad sex and killer jellyfish. But for want of anything worthwhile preceding them, it begs the question: If Will Smith falls in the forest and the audience walked out around the one-hour mark, does he make a sound?

So Bad it's Ugly: Revolutionary Road (Dec. 25) . While novelist John Cheever traced the glide path of America's fall from post-WWII euphoria to disillusioned ennui, his contemporary Richard Yates was the black box that captured every primal, panicked cry in the seconds before the crash. Nearly 50 years on, Sam Mendes likely fancies himself to share a little of each man's qualities, with his decade's worth of moodily revisionist entries surveying suburbia (American Beauty), crime and the Depression (Road to Perdition), the first Iraq War (Jarhead) and now Revolutionary Road, Yates's debut novel about an idealistic young couple's suffocation in the Connecticut suburbs.

But Mendes crafted not so much an adaptation here as he did a stunt. It was one thing to reunite wife Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio, tricking the Titanic generation into a bit of po-mo awards-season whiplash; it was another entirely to impose his semi-literate condescension on Frank and April Wheeler, Yates's doomed ad man and his housewife, whose shared yearning for a life beyond the social constraints of their titular street capsizes in devastating slow-motion. Their unraveling was a symbolic end to the optimism of Eisenhower's '50s, no less nightmarish for its yowling, virtually unprecedented depiction of complacency's costs. It created a stir that never altogether faded, influencing American Beauty itself and prompting no fewer than a dozen failed screen attempts before Mendes and Scott Rudin coaxed around $40 million of DreamWorks' money to smear their quasi-pedigreed patina over the Wheeler family's implosion.

It would have been bad enough with screenwriter Justin Haythe digesting Yates's piercing dialogue into compact, Oscar-clip-compatible bursts. It would have been bad enough with DiCaprio and Winslet, each miscast, delivering those bursts in furrow-browed, you-shout-now-I-shout order. It would have been bad enough with Michael Shannon dropping by as the neighbors' candid loony son, the Connecticut equivalent of Southern dramas' "magical Negro" whose cruelly omniscient nuggets coincide conveniently with key junctures of the Wheelers' dissolution.

But Revolutionary Road's real failure transcends tone-deafness. Here, Mendes actively perverts his source's vanguard qualities — grossly commodifying the Wheelers, fetishizing their anguish, and in fact reveling in the excruciating emotional turmoil that tormented Yates until his death in 1992. We knew Mendes was a bit of a serial masturbator, but a necrophiliac? Moreover, a cold-blooded cultural murderer? Quick — someone save Kate.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button tied Milk for most nominations with eight, including Best Picture, Best Director for David Fincher, and acting nods for Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett. The remaining nine selections for the year's best film proved about as inclusive as a Ben Lyons-hosted announcement show would suggest:

· Changeling
· The Dark Knight
· Doubt
· Frost/Nixon
· Milk
· The Reader
· Slumdog Millionaire
· Wall-E
· The Wrestler

Clint Eastwood went unrecognized, however, for either of his two directorial efforts, Changeling and Gran Torino, though he was nominated for Best Actor for his grizzled, growling racist in the latter. The Wrestler's Darren Aronofsky was also overlooked in favor of Christopher Nolan and Ron Howard, not likely the last time you'll see that indignity poisoning the awards well.

Acting nominations were much more charitable, even surprising, with the Valerie Plame/Judith Miller tale Nothing But the Truth pulling Actress and Supporting Actress recognition for Kate Beckinsale and Vera Farmiga, respectively. Robert Downey Jr. found a Supporting Actor slot for his blackface turn in Tropic Thunder, while Milk's support tandem Josh Brolin and James Franco earned nods as well. The downside: The BFCA couldn't find a place for Frost/Nixon's superb Michael Sheen, or even add him to the category's five nominees; every other acting category had six nods apiece.

But consolation for Rudin and Co.: Doubt was represented in three of the four acting categories (plus ensemble cast and screenplay). Then again, Winslet's Reader performance received a Supporting nod while her Revolutionary turn netted zilch. Surely there's no pressure ahead of Thursday's Golden Globe nominations;

• 2009 BFCA Nominees [BFCA]

In fairness, her husband, Sam Mendes, was the director — a first for Winslet that seemed to bother her in ways that her Titanic leading man Di Caprio more readily shrugged off:

Did some of those intimate scenes get a little awkward? "Not a problem in this department," Leo says. "It was right for the characters."

"You know what? Yes, it was (awkward)," says a candid Kate. "I did feel weird about it — [but] you get over that quickly. You really have to." She adds that her husband "really treated me like the actress playing [the character]," and that during one of their more heated scenes, "Sam would sort of yell from the other room, 'No, Leo really grab her thigh! Really grab her thigh!' I thought, 'This is really strange, but I'm gonna go with it.'"

Kinky! Not to mention an improvement over those James Cameron days, when "grab her thigh" was simply something the Titanic taskmaster disgustedly spat at on-set paramedics every time the fragile Di Caprio cramped up while treading water for six hours on end.

• LEO & KATE ON AWKWARD LOVE SCENES [ET]

The first Button item we saw was submitted by an "industry spy"; if it was published by anyone other that Anne Thompson, we'd assume it was just a publicity intern practicing her press-note chops:

The achievement is big and bold and ambitious and life-affirming, but the sentimentality is always toughened by the continual sense of loss and deep sadness at the transitory nature of the human condition. If it sounds like an art movie, it absolutely is, but it's a four-quadrant art film!

Or as director David Fincher might put it, a "four-quadrant rim job." That's a milestone, no doubt, but we'd missed an even earlier, spoiler-heavy read from a blogger who was less sanguine:

I wasn’t as moved by this film as I wanted to be. This was number one on my list of must-see holiday movies and I so wanted to be blown away but it just didn’t happen. This movie is a very ambitious effort—it looks gorgeous, there are some groundbreaking special effects and the rest of the cast also do excellent work but it’s the kind of movie you respect more than love. It’s like a piece of art that you look at and say, “It’s pretty,” but don’t necessarily want to bring home.

And then came Spout's Karina Longworth, who honored every part of the embargo except for the part prohibiting slagging the visual effects. And then came the hater to whom The Playlist attributed an "emotional dud":

While they didn't think it was terrible, they did say the film wasn't the tearjerker we all heard it was supposed to be and was much more of an "emotional dud." They're reaction to it was lukewarm, but they also noted it was the kind of tepidness that the Academy loves. When we probed a little further and asked about its deeper Oscar hopes, the mention of Brad Pitt was practically laughed out of the room.

NOOO! We needed him for our Oscar pool — even though the season's other big Paramount release (with DreamWorks), Revolutionary Road, is prompting lip-loosening hype itself on two sides of the Atlantic. Thompson again had an anonymous impression back on Oct. 29, citing a "very powerful two-hander for Leo and Kate. [...] You can sense the real-life bond that lets them really go for it, all defenses down." Modern classic, etc etc.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey Wells's source in the UK agreed for the most part today:

"Only the ending felt a little unsure; otherwise, I feel Mendes has made serious progress as a director. A daring scene at the breakfast table is pulled off with virtuosity towards the end. I'll say no more than this. Much is demanded of the leads. [...] We're dealing with a lot of heightened emotion bordering on melodrama. But the actors cope well, although Kate Winslet, I feel, is more convincing than Leonardo DiCaprio.

Great. We heard she might be in the running for some sort of honors this year. So! Thanks to everyone for contributing, and we'll see you on the studio blacklist!

WHAT'S NEW: Yesterday we broke down some of our problems with Body of Lies, starring Leonardo DiCaprio as a CIA operative entangled in the boilerplate "web of intrigue" when his sketchy boss (Russell Crowe) dispatches him to Jordan to zzzzzzzzz... Critics aren't behind it, and it's too late in the year for Warner Bros. to push this as anything more than the beach-reading it is. Which doesn't mean it can't finish in first place, of course — even though it won't. Beverly Hills Chihuahua will sprint out the stretch over Body's lumbering, wheezing frame, narrowly outgrossing Warners' $16 million for the week's biggest dogtrack upset.

Warners will do much better distributing RockNRolla for Guy Ritchie and Joel Silver on a smattering of screens in LA and New York before going wide on Halloween, but that's pocket change below Universal's football biopic The Express (should open strong around $15.2 million), the B-horror Quarantine ($11.9 million), the family adventure City of Ember ($6.6 million) and finally in wide release, Keira Knightley nifty bodice-ripper The Duchess ($5.2 million). Eagle Eye and Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist will skim off everyone's top as well with a combined $16 million for the weekend.

Also opening: Mike Leigh's latest annoyance Happy-Go-Lucky; the quirky microbudget romance Good Dick; the gay family dramedy Breakfast With Scot; Daddy Yankee's gangland redemption saga Talento de Barrio; and the self-explanatory biopic Billy: The Early Years of Billy Graham.

THE BIG LOSER: Equipped as it is for international support and a long life on DVD and cable, $20 million is still the low end of studio expectations for Body of Lies. It won't come anywhere close.

THE UNDERDOG: We'll be the first to admit that Ashes of Time Redux — Hong Kong auteur Wong Kar-wai's revival of his 1994 martial arts epic — makes exactly no sense. Wong packs swordsmen, jilted lovers, defensive siblings and, naturally, Maggie Chueng into the parallel universe of the "jianghu," essentially a martial arts Middle Earth where vengeance seems to be the only thing more plentiful than primary colors. Luckily, Wong's legendary lenser Christopher Doyle is the guy with the camera; nonsense hasn't looked this good since David Lynch uncorked Eraserhead — itself the recent beneficiary of the kind of restoration that saved Ashes from certain doom in dilapidated warehouses around the Far East. Bigger Wong fans than we swear by this version; if we can trust them, so can you.

FOR SHUT-INS: This week's slight new DVD releases include three different versions of You Don't Mess With the Zohan, Manoj's mint The Happening, last summer's sleeper hit The Visitor, the 30th-anniversary edition of Halloween, the 50th-anniversary edition of Touch of Evil, and the eagerly awaited second volume of The Smurfs: Season One.

So are we being too hard on Body of Lies? Can The Express or Quarantine pull an October surprise on an unwitting Chihuahua? Can anybody explain Ashes of Time in 50 words or less? Weigh in below; what's your weekend looking like?

Warners may be the only studio that hasn't yet had its big Iraq-themed clusterfuck; that time appears to have arrived. (Its defunct subsidiary Warner Independent bungled the underrated In the Valley of Elah to a $1.5 million wide release last September, just one of the misfires that cost the mini-major its life.) Universal only opened with $17.1 million for last year's The Kingdom, and Paramount saw Stop-Loss die quickly this past spring, earning almost half of its $11 million total gross in the first week of release. So if Iraq and the war on terror aren't over yet as Hollywood themes, they probably will be when Monday rolls around.

Critics aren't digging it either, but maybe even more importantly: Has Leonardo DiCaprio ever seemed more out-of-place than the Body trailers and TV spots?

It's worse than Blood Diamond, and we're facing it again with the upcoming Revolutionary Road. Audiences see more punchline than pedigree. From Warners to the White House, would you really entrust any matter of national security to this man? We'll have our own bold, pinpoint predictions about Body's fate in tomorrow's Defamer Attractions column, but for now, better safe than sorry, Warners: Watch out for chihuahuas.

We're troubled, however, to read for what feels like the the thousandth time that the ladies aren't quite measuring up:

In an era where risk-averse studio executives have declared men the more reliable movie stars—and the more desirable moviegoers—perhaps it's no surprise that they are also the medium's top earners. The reality: Hollywood's 10 best-paid actors out-earned Hollywood's 10 best-paid actresses 2-to-1 over the course of the year.

Collectively, the big screen's leading men took home an estimated $487 million between June 1, 2007, and June 1, 2008, compared with the leading ladies' haul of $244.5 million.

However, in an even more revealing Forbes slideshow for the prose-impaired, we discovered that actresses fared much better in the "Ultimate Payback" category, which calculates the best gross-to-salary ratios in the biz. While a pre-Fred Claus Vince Vaughn ranked #1, Julia Roberts, Naomi Watts, Jennifer Aniston, Renee Zellweger and Jodie Foster cracked the top 15 as well. (That'll happen when you're relatively underpaid; top-earning actress Cameron Diaz is way down at #32.) Prepare yourself for Christian Bale's controversial post-Dark Knight ascent, followed by the touching, accompanying profile of how the strapping star went from clown's son to box-office powerhouse.

• Hollywood's Best-Paid Actors [Forbes]
• The Ultimate Star Payback [Forbes]

boomp3.com

After the Tuesday night Coldplay concert in Inglewood, the maybe star of Inglorious Bastards Leonardo DiCaprio tried to make a quick exit. Unfortunately for DiCaprio, assortments of photographers were ready to greet him by his luxury car. Like a man whose just been caught cheating, DiCaprio reluctantly admitted that he likes Coldplay, but only "about this much."

[Photo Credit: X17]

*A Call To The Bullpen is a work of fiction. Although the pictures we use are most certainly real, Defamer does not purport that any of the incidents or quotations you see in this piece actually happened. Lighten up, people ... it's a joke.

Harrison Ford, Outed by Helen Mirren: "She considered him 'the nicest, sweetest guy you could want to meet. But he can't kiss - he finds it impossible to kiss on screen.' Then, she added: 'He's probably not very good off screen either. It's not just me - other actresses agree. Whenever we get chatting off screen and we get around to talking, we come to the same conclusion.'"

Jason Segal, Outed by Alyson Hannigan: "Alyson refused to kiss him or do any romantic scenes with him, because he smelled like smoke. He thanks her for forcing him to do that because now he not only smells better, he feels better as well."

Orlando Bloom, Outed by Keira Knightley: "Keira Knightley claims Johnny Depp is a better kisser than Orlando Bloom...When quizzed on who she thought was the best kisser out of the two actors, she told InStyle magazine: 'Johnny Depp certainly wasn't bad.' Despite Orlando's gushing praise for Keira's kissing technique, he did admit he found it 'peculiar.'"

Steve Carell, Outed by Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson: "I just see Steve Carell's lips. 'So the bottom of a cat's paw - the soft supple part underneath - that's what Steve Carell's lips are like. But his tongue is like kitty cat litter. That's the physical experience.'"

Woody Allen, Outed by Helena Bonham Carter: "He tells you up front certain ways of kissing he does not want. No exchange of liquid is permitted. It can be a bit offensive because he makes no effort at all."

Angelina Jolie, Outed by James McAvoy: "I can tell you what it was like to kiss her on a film set: It was awkward, sweaty and not very nice."

Tom Cruise, Outed by Thandie Newton: "Kissing Tom Cruise was slightly icky and sort of wet. I'd really go home at the end of the day actually moaning about how hot it was and how many times we had to do it."

Victoria Beckham, Outed by Corey Haim: "She does this little grr gnaw thing that felt like a girl gnawing on your lip."

Sienna Miller, Outed by James Franco: "The British beauty's toothache made filming a nightmare. Franco admits filming the scene was far from enjoyable and had to be cut short when his co-star complained. He says, 'I think we kissed once in that film and it wasn't at all intense - there was no rolling around or anything. Sienna's molar was giving her pain so she called the dentist!'"

Leonardo DiCaprio, Outed by Virginie Ledoyen: "I think Leonardo is a nice guy. But I don't want him as a lover. There [was] no honest passion. No real sensitivity in our love scenes. In our underwater love scenes all I could think of was not drowning. I can't even remember his kiss."

[Photo credits: Getty, Wire Girl, Showbiz Spy, Renee Ashley Baker, NetGlimpse, Wireimage]

• JAMES MCAVOY: KISSING ANGELINA JOLIE WAS 'NOT VERY NICE' [ITW]

As the supe tells the magazine's July issue, "We met through a friend who knew us both for a long time. Believe me, I didn't even remember [his picture]. Our friend knew that we would like each other. And we did. So I guess he was right." As if the fact that she couldn't remember who the guy was wasn't insulting enough, her list of Brady's charming attributes is just plain sad: "We have a lot of things in common...he is a really great person. He doesn't have a bad bone in his body...He is a very positive person." Those things in common? Well, Bundchen played volleyball once or twice as a gawky Brazilian teen, and Brady has apparently taught her why "all those guys keep hitting each other" on the football field. If that isn't chemistry, we don't know what it is. But quite frankly? From the sound of it, Gisele would really get a kick out of our Uncle Irving. Sure he's pushing 70, but man is he ever positive and great. Plus? No pregnant fiancee in the closet. We're calling our "guy" and Bundchen's "guy" stat to set those two sure-thing lovebirds up.

[Photo credits: GQ via Egotastic]

• GISELE BUNDCHEN DISHES ON LOVE AND TOM BRADY [People]
• GISELE BUNDCHEN IS TOPLESS, AND BOTTOMLESS IN 'GQ' [Egotastic]

But we digress! DiCaprio's biographical obsessions — from his baby-faced turn as Tobias Wolff (This Boy's Life) to his overbearing Howard Hughes (The Aviator) to his beguiling swindler Frank Abagnale Jr. (Catch Me if You Can) — have us reconsidering his slate of upcoming roles. Is Leo actually determined to spend the next five years portraying video game mavens, ex-presidents, spy novelists and Wall Street crooks? And will they get him any closer to the Oscar such roles seem to court? Follow the jump for our convenient oddsmaking guide to Leo's biopic prospects.

PROJECT: The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt

BACKGROUND: The eldest of DiCaprio's gestating biopics, Roosevelt was announced back in Sept. 2005, with Martin Scorsese set to direct a script based on Edmund Morris's Pulitzer Prize-winning biography. Then they did The Departed and Shutter Island (and announced another collaboration in-between; see below). Roosevelt, meanwhile, remains dead.

OSCAR-PANDERING?: Very much (and very expensively) so, but not any worse than, say, The 11th Hour.

ODDS IT'LL BE MADE WITH LEO: 75-1 before 2012; 50-1 afterward.

PROJECT: The Wolf of Wall Street

BACKGROUND: DiCaprio optioned high-flying (literally — he once piloted his chopper while strung out on coke) finance kingpin Jordan Belfort's rags-to-riches-to-prison memoir before its publication in 2007. Again, Scorsese was touched to direct.

OSCAR-PANDERING?: Leo already did showy with Howard Hughes; the Academy is over it.

ODDS IT'LL BE MADE WITH LEO: 20-1. We're much more interested, though, in whether or not Tommy Chong will play himself as Belfort's real-life cellmate.

PROJECT: Fleming

BACKGROUND: Appian Way last month jumped aboard the biopic of James Bond creator Ian Fleming, which will focus in part on the author's Naval Intelligence background during WWII. DiCaprio is reportedly bringing in a new writer, though, which could mean anything from "Let's play up Fleming's spanking fetish" to "Let's take this off the market just in case."

OSCAR-PANDERING?: Only if Leo masters Fleming's accent and gets to spank Kate Winslet.

ODDS IT'LL BE MADE WITH LEO: 100-1. Seriously — have you ever seen Ian Fleming?

PROJECT: Atari

BACKGROUND: Announced this weekend, DiCaprio signed on to produce and star as Nolan Bushnell, the heartthrob who brought you Pong.

OSCAR-PANDERING?: Only if the Academy remembers Atari is a brand and not Leo's character. The Chuck E. Cheese thing is a problem as well.

ODDS IT'LL BE MADE WITH LEO: 1-4. And Uwe Boll will direct.

• Leonardo DiCaprio to star in 'Atari' [THR]