<![CDATA[Gawker: defamer, michael clayton]]> http://tags.gawker.com/assets/base/img/thumbs140x140/gawker.com.png <![CDATA[Gawker: defamer, michael clayton]]> http://gawker.com/tag/defamer/michaelclayton http://gawker.com/tag/defamer/michaelclayton <![CDATA[From the Director of 'Michael Clayton': Clive, Julia, and Her Thong]]> Sure, sure, Titanic couple Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio are reuniting on-screen in the upcoming Revolutionary Road, and that's great. Still, the romantics over here at Defamer HQ would prefer a reprise of the light and fluffy lovers played by Clive Owen and Julia Roberts in Closer ("You like him coming in your face?" "Yes!" "What does it taste like?" "It tastes like you but sweeter!"), so this trailer for their upcoming Duplicity will have to do. Oh, and what's this? A brand-new costar in the form of Julia Roberts's thong? How did the suddenly sexed-up Natalie Portman get left out of this Closer coffee klatch? The trailer, after the jump:

]]> http://gawker.com/index.php?op=postcommentfeed&postId=5099446&view=rss&microfeed=true <![CDATA[The Clooney Who Came To Dinner]]> Sigh. Fat Clooney, Black and White Clooney, U.N. Clooney, even bathroom stall Clooney—there's just no one quite like George. Just ask Time magazine columnist Joel Stein, who, assigned with the burden of perhaps one of the most culturally significant cover stories of our time (hint: it's called "The Last Movie Star,"), did the nearly unthinkable: He invited the Michael Clayton star to his home. For a home-cooked dinner. And George said yes.

We know! And while it wasn't the seventh limoncello that ultimately did them in (nor the lingering specter of some extremely undercooked lamb), the two managed to kill a couple of bottles of wine, and bond as well as any Torchbearer of a Bygone Hollywood Era and Slightly Dweeby, Fawning Profiler possibly could. For proof, the entire evening was captured on video. Sure enough, there's Clooney, rummaging through every last corner of Stein's abode on a hunt for the source of piercing alarm that keeps interrupting their meal. Does it sound as if this was the most successful hipster-hosted superstar dinner party in history? Probably not. But Clooney, god bless him, makes it seem like it was. Bacon sizzling. The Decemberists singing. And Clooney in your crawlspace. Oh, just admit it: You wish it was you.

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