For all of its pomp, circumstance, and instances of silly dialogue, it was a strangely enjoyable and beguiling two hours of pseudo-religious Bible retelling.

It's the story of King David, who defeated Goliath in battle and rose to precarious prominence in a kingdom where the rightful heir to the throne was a mincing gay fop named Jonathan. Jon is Jack in this reimagining, David is, well, David, a tawny farm boy who rescues Jack in battle by standing up to one of the enemy's Goliath tanks. He's celebrated as a hero by the people, and used as a pro-military PR tool by the scheming, conflicted King Silas (the terrific, scenery-devouring Ian McShane). So David heads to the capital city, Shiloh (a thinly-disguised New York—the Time Warner Center features prominently), and wide-eyes his way through all the fanfare—falling for the lovely politically-minded princess, enraging the jealous prince, and eventually staging a dramatic, gorgeously staged truce between his kingdom, Gilboa, and their bitter enemies, Gath.

The production values were outta sight (though, I doubt NBC can sustain that), the acting was solid (especially McShane and Susanna Thompson as his icy bride), and the whole alternate-reality conceit was respectably ambitious for network television. It's sort of a more Earth-bound, less intelligent Battlestar Galactica, with all its talk of religion and scheming, souring political machinations. Plus the people are pretty, swathed as they are in lush cinematography and slo-mo sequences of warfare and crown-bestowing butterflies.

The all-important gay stuff is causing quite a stir. You see, Prince Jack is both a lazy nogoodnik and a homosexualist, as we discover when he is viciously outed to us by his shamed papa (see clip). And isn't it a bit regressive and cruel to paint the only gay character as a jealous, petty, sneaky, cowardly little whiner? Plus, David and Jonathan totally did it in the Bible (see items 10-14), so why can't the show be true to that? I feel the pain of yet another gay character having his gayness be something of a tragic flaw, but I think we can't dismiss it as railroading just yet. We've, hopefully, a season at least to go to see what happens with bonny prince Jack. Maybe he'll see the gay error of his gay ways and become a fawning fan of noble young breeder David. Or maybe we'll be made sympathetic to some tragic love story of his. Or, sigh, maybe he'll just keep being evil and furtively faggy and jerks will nod their heads and point to the screen and say "See? See?"

Still, I'm glad to see any representation of gaydom in this kingdom. Gays can be villains too! (They just can't be villains because they're gay.) It adds another interesting angle to this already layered opera. So it's a shame that a paltry six million people tuned in last night. Let's hope that NBC gives it a few more chances. We need shows that are this original and ambitious—as Battlestar winds down, as Lost plans to leave us in a year's time—even if they're a bit overheated and laughably melodramatic at times (see the Butterfly Crowning, all the way up top). I suggest you give it a watch.

[Photo: Getty Images]

In one of the biggest premieres ever held in Los Angeles, the Bay juggernaut — about a race of alien robots trying to gobble Earth — will take over not one, but four Westwood movie houses on June 27, with 4,000 seats available, not just for swank "Transformers" stars like It-boy Shia LaBeouf or executive producer Steven Spielberg, but for actual members of the public.

The premiere will be followed by a party on Broxton Avenue in Westwood that is open to anyone who attends one of the screenings at the Landmark Regent Theatre, the Mann National Theatre, the Mann Bruin Theatre and the Mann Village Theatre.

Organizers have managed to keep the upcoming event's biggest set piece a secret, a stunt which we can now exclusively reveal: As fans file out from the various Westwood venues, the director himself will roar into the center of the throng in a custom-made Lamborghini, rip an undisclosed number of tire-scorching donuts, then proceed to blow what's left of their minds by transforming the car into a 30-foot-tall, robotic version of himself; once Bay feels the mob has been sufficiently paralyzed with awe, he'll then use the spectacular machine's specially calibrated claws to pluck the two most attractive, scantily clad women (twins, preferably) from the crowd and lumber off into the night, crushing the occasional Hummer beneath its feet just to drive his busty hostages wild with desire.

[Image: MichaelBay.com]

• Shia LeBouf and cast to 'transform' L.A. film fest [LAT]
• Transformers [LAFilmFest.com]

You can view the whole gallery here.

[All photos: Getty Images]

Not only do they let the porn star who ran for governor into your premiere party, they allow her to be photographed in front of the already ridiculous, giant photograph of you in a powdered wig, perhaps hoping that some moviegoers will turn out because they think you signed up for a period porno flick while you were in the middle of a particularly bad bender.

• CA: Premiere Of Universal Pictures "Man of the Year" - Arrivals [Getty Images]

At last night's premiere at the Chinese Theater, Jackass Number Two star Steve-O, subtle master of physical comedy, sensed that having a baby alligator chew his scrotum or allowing one of his co-stars to attack his genitals with a jackhammer would be too showy a display of the playful irreverence that is the troupe's trademark, even on such a special occasion. Instead, he opted for the simple, elegant act of urinating on the red carpet, much to the delight of the throng of fans, wire service photographers, and tourists transfixed by every drop of his golden stream.

Gawker notes that the photos were too hot for Reuters, but the folks at Getty Images seem a little less prudish about Steve-O's performance art. A completely NSFW version of the photo is after the jump. You've been warned.

[Photo: Getty Images]

At last night's Grauman's Chinese Theatre premiere of Beerfest, once octogenarian star Cloris Leachman was gently lowered back onto her feet by director Jay Chandrasekhar after completing a potentially life-threatening, five-minute keg stand, she punctuated the unexpected display of her incredible drinking capacity by hoisting aloft the fully drained keg and emitting a belch so powerful that it cracked the slab of concrete in the nearby courtyard containing Judy Garland's handprints. "Top that, you little bitches," challenged Leachman as she strolled past her much younger, tragically lightweight castmates and into the screening.

[Photo: Getty Images]

• CA: Warner Bros. Premiere Of "Beerfest" - Arrivals [Getty Images]

We begin our report about last night's Snakes on a Plane premiere at the Chinese Theatre, held back by New Line until the very last possible minute to prevent critics from having uncharitable opinions about a movie whose pre-release hype became so overwhelming that the mere mention of the title could induce grand mal seizures in anyone in possession of a valid press credential, with a disclaimer: After almost exactly a year of writing about this movie and its unstoppable march across the internets, our weariness of various combinations of the words "motherfucking," "snakes," and "plane" may have lowered our expectations to an absurdly low point. All we wanted from the 'Lil Airborne Reptilian Infestation Movie That Could was for at least one guy to have his genitals fanged-up while in the process of bodily waste elimination, and God bless their pandering little hearts, they delivered the mandatory junk-chomping scene with cynical aplomb. Once that lone condition was satisfied, we were more than happy to laugh at lines of dialogue both intentionally and accidentally hilarious, hurl ourselves forward in our seat with delight when the areola on a bare, surgically enhanced breast became a targeting mechanism for a mamba strike, and generally stop giving a shit about how someone might smuggle several hundred angry predators aboard a red-eye even with the aid of the most corrupt of airport security regimes. Motherfucking snakes were on the motherfucking plane (see how easy it is to fall back into it?), they were biting everything in sight, and that was enough for us, as we are constitutionally incapable of not enjoying a well-executed fake-titty attack. Call us easy to please or New Line Kool-Aid chuggers, but we can't see any reason why anyone who would be interested in the film based on the title alone shouldn't get a little drunk and watch Samuel L. Jackson shout expletives while he carries out his snake-elimination duties. That's all we can muster by way of a review.

Part The Second: After-Parties On A Rooftop [after the jump]

The after-party, as you might expect, was done up in an airport theme. Upon reaching the roof of the ArcLight parking structure where it was held, guests marched through a metal-detector and X-ray machine gauntlet just as unattended as the ones in the world of the film must have been, making it easy for one of the party's "passengers" to sneak in any Samsonite set jammed full of death-adders, shampoo-bomb, or low-grade nuclear device intended to reduce the world's population of free booze drinkers by three hundred or so. Servers of both sexes dressed in retro flight attendant gear either pushed around airline-style carts full of candy or gyrated atop platforms as go-go dancers. Boxed meals, possibly purloined from a poorly secured supply shed at LAX, were served. The aforementioned free booze, as it must, flowed. And in perhaps the event's most eerily airport-accurate touch, t-shirts upon which various SoaP-themed decals were ironed-to-order were handed out from behind replica ticket counters, causing interminably long waits and feelings of "we're all gonna die before we ever get to the front of this line" dread perfectly simulating those encountered by anyone who has ever needed a boarding pass printed by a human being. The New Line party planners were nothing if not psychotically dedicated to air-travel verisimilitude.

Among the celebrities we managed to see during the few moments we weren't standing on line were star Kenan Thompson (accompanied by a very hot, very gaudily bosomed date in a porn-appropriate evening gown), biggest-deal-within-two-square-miles Chris Rock, Kelly Osbourne, cast members Bobby Cannavale and Lin Shaye, various cast members whose names we can't recall without cheating on IMDb, and two guys from The Office (the one that Steve Carrell is secretly gay for and the one that Pam shouldn't be marrying). Rumors of Samuel L. Jackson's presence at the event were rampant, but we didn't personally lay eyes on him. We imagine he was quite busy politely pretending that each variation on his "motherfucking snakes" line was the first he'd heard. He seems like that kind of guy.

As we were headed to our car, we stumbled upon a clearly confused Rock and his date in the act of pretending they knew where they'd parked. After several seconds of spinning around and craning their necks in a search for the vehicle they'd left on a lower level, they passed us on the way down the stairs, and a Legitimate Journalist friend of ours asked Rock what he'd thought of the movie. "It was incredible," he said, noticing the reporter's pad and not breaking stride, "better than The Godfather." Because we must bring this full-circle: Dude, Snakes on a Motherfucking Mobster.

[Photo: Getty Images]

• Seemingly Endless 'Snakes on a Plane' Coverage [Defamer]

"World Trade Center" will have its red-carpet premiere tonight at the Ziegfeld Theater, but celebration will be kept to a minimum.

In one striking departure, there will be no gala reception afterward.

That's because the audience will include not just the film's stars and handlers, but also survivors of the terror attacks and others shattered by the loss of loved ones.

"It seemed inappropriate to do something festive," said Michael Shamberg, one of the film's producers.

"While the film celebrates the best in people, the night will be low-key," he added.

So low-key in fact, that Paramount has taken explicit steps to make their audience feel as if there was nothing celebratory about the evening at all: For example, all attendees, including the victim's families, will be approached and asked to contribute the $11.75 it would have cost them to see the movie in a theater, 50% of which the studio will selflessly donate to an 9/11-appropriate charity.

• 'WTC' debut a no-glitz zone [NY Daily News]

It's been a long absence since your movie premiere restaurant critic had a chance to spread his wings. I've spent the last 11 months touring the world on a Ford Foundation studying the great event foods of the world. But after all my travels, I can soundly state that no one does event food like a Hollywood premiere. And so it was with a song in my heart that I came home to Westwood, easing back onto my beat with a dinner at Monster House.

The screening was held at the classic Mann Village Theater with the party down the block. After being awestruck by the wonder of seeing 3-D animation in 3-D, the question hung in the air - after shelling out all that dough for the fancy cartoon effects, would there be anything left to spend on the buffet?

The answer, fortunately, was a qualified yes. As we entered the lot where the event was held, decorated in a sort of Halloween carnival theme, the signs of Wolfgang Puck's handiwork were immediately evident—which at an event can mean a taste of Spago or one of Puck Express. On this night, the food was tailored to a kid's junk food theme - along with his signature chicken salad and beef in a corn-relishy sauce, there were chicken tenders, fish and chips, macaroni and cheese and hamburgers.

Hollywood wise man Rob Long, in an exclusive interview with this critic, noted the great cycle Hollywood cuisine, reflecting the cycle of Hollywood entertainment where we now "hire Wolfgang Puck to serve us In N Out burgers." That said, the chicken tenders, served with a very sweet barbeque sauce, were pretty good. The macaroni and cheese was a bit bland and the hamburgers looked too thin and dry to try. But the beef was very tender and quite edible.

The kids theme was taken a bit too far, I thought, by the trays of Mountain Dew circulating, a soda which makes a funny punchline but few want to take it so far as to drink with their dinner. There were also, thoughtfully, some shooting gallery games set up for the children so that they would be kept out of the way of the adults doing the serious work at the buffet tables. Jason Schwartzman and his bowlcut perched by one for much of the night. Jason Lee held court at a table in a distant corner. I noticed Larry King hobbling by using his six year old son as a crutch.

Given the kids theme, dessert, as expected, was where the real action was. Mini-cones of vanilla cheesecake and blueberry cheesecake ice cream. Halloween-monster-shaped cookies and little spiders made of chocolate mousse. All were very fine, the ice cream quite refreshing on the warm Westwood night and most people seemed to have the sense to leave room for at least two cones.

All in all, a decent return to my old haunts, an ease back into the best of entertainment. Based on the food, I predict modest but acceptable grosses for Monster House at the box office. It tasted like a 18 mil opening weekend to me.

• Defamer Food Review: Tray Tables Fully Upright And Locked At "Red Eye" Premiere [Defamer]

I just got in from the after-after-party for the Superman premiere at a house on Coldwater Canyon in Beverly Hills. The best part of the entire night is that it was this fancy mansion, all the stars, even Superman (who likes to eat chocolate eclairs, btw), and they had these signs with the Superman logo directing people to the bathrooms. And when you went into the bathroom, there was this sign— I guess Warner Bros. couldn't spring for the owner to get the plumbing fixed at the house ahead of time. Hollywood is so classy.

In defense of the hosts, it's probably better to post some embarrassing signs than have to ask the guest of honor to use his super-powers to save hundreds of guests from an evil tidal wave unleashed by some villain who's too drunk to figure out how to use the toilet.

ANNE Hathaway says Stanley Tucci was a real hands-on guy when they made "The Devil Wears Prada." "He would just smack me in my boob and elbow me," Hathaway told journos at the New York premiere. "If you're a girl, you know that hurts, so, after about the fourth time, I finally said: 'Stanley, can you please stay away from my t - - s?' He got really flustered and said: 'What do you expect? You're flinging those melons around like it's harvest season.' "

It's really the perfect premiere-night anecdote, a light-hearted tale from the set that demonstrates the chemistry between the movie's charismatic, up-and-coming star and her quirky, supporting castmate with an endearing, if occasionally violent, breast-on-elbow fetish.

• MELON HARVEST [Page Six]

• CA: Premiere Of HBO´s "Entourage" - After Party [Getty Images]

[Photos: Getty Images]

[Photos: Getty Images]

• Previously: Citizen Paparazzi: The Governor Shops At Barney's [Defamer]

Savor him while he's still with us, people. You are witnessing the finest premiere party actor of his generation.

[Photos: GettyImages]

• Previously: Vin Diesel: Portraits Of Ecstasy [Defamer]

• Brian's Inferno [WOW Report]
• Previously: Brian Grazer’s Secret Sauce [Defamer]

At the risk of gloating, I enjoyed my greatest accomplishment in 5 years of working in Hollywood in just one evening: I attended both Michael Bay's Christmas party and The New World premiere after-party last night.

First, Michael Bay. My girlfriend and I got concerned when we discovered he was throwing the party at his office in Santa Monica, but then we remembered the brilliance of Pearl Harbor, and realized that the creative genius behind that would surely not let his guests suffer a mediocre party. At the risk of offering up too many boring details, here's a list of what we noticed:

1. Michael Bay can't get many people other than assistants and Jerry Bruckheimer to come to his parties. I wonder if The Island is to blame.
2. The sexy Christmas elves standing at the door looked really really cold.
3. Inexplicably, the floor of the outdoor tent seemed to be heated. And they were projecting abstract video onto the wall next to their parking lot.
4. In all the conversations overheard, not one was about anything other than film.
5. For a guy who has made billions of dollars at the box office, he sure had a meager food spread. Limited to one counter in their office kitchen, the food consisted of shrimp and chicken skewers, prosciutto/mozzarella/sun-dried tomato skewers, veggie thai spring rolls, and crudites. No dessert, Michael?

On the way out I stopped to go to the bathroom but couldn't find it. Thinking only of the Red Bull (ugh!) pressing against my bladder, I wandered upstairs, pushing my way past a guy on his way down. Unfortunately, he wasn't on the way from the bathroom, he was on the way from his office—I should've known by the stone-washed jeans that I was wandering into the inner sanctum of the man himself, but I wasn't thinking clearly. He was oddly unfazed, only slightly curious. I guess being totally oblivious is just as effective as being confident in getting access.

The New World party, held at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel, was a big contrast. Since we hadn't been at the movie, we ended up beating the crowd to the party. They had a great line-up of period costumes as guests walked into the ballroom, but the real highlight of the party was the food, appropriately colonial. Highlights included the second-best salmon I've ever had in my life (with a very slightly smoked flavor—-awesome), tiny sweet potatoes and yams, baby shrimp in a creamy sauce, roasted root vegetables, clam chowder, mashed potatoes (in martini glasses!) corn bread, and some meat that looked like wild boar but was probably beef at two carving stations. For dessert they had creme brulee, baby caramel apples, apple tarts, blueberry tarts, mixed fruit cobbler, and a variety of cakes.

The people-watching wasn't quite as good as the food. Maybe they were worn out by watching a three hour movie with almost no plot. I was really hoping that Colin Farrell would beam in on a video conference from rehab, but maybe the sight of all the fun would have sent him back to the painkillers, so no luck. We saw Q'orianka Kilcher, who plays Pocahontas—I think she's like 15, even if she looks older. [Favorite line of the night, my friend disappearing after saying, "I'll be back, gotta go hit on Pocahontas."] Casey Affleck was nearby with some guys of unknown origin. Saw Ryan Gosling, whose hair is really really short and almost in a mohawk—he seemed like a shockingly nice guy, taking time to talk warmly to fans and holding the door open for his friend when she got into her car. It made me like him a lot more. No sign of Rachel McAdams, or her nipple. I kept seeing Jim Caviezel, but I didn't realize it was him until today. Also saw Ashton Holmes, the kid in A History of Violence. I don't even know if Terrence Malick showed up, but his wife was there. I think a lot of cast members were there, because I saw more Native Americans in that room than I thought existed in Los Angeles. Maybe because it was a benefit premiere, the crowd seemed older and better-dressed than usual. I saw no evidence of peace pipes or genocide, but I may have missed out on a side room.

• Previously: Johansson: Michael Bay’s A Lousy Gift-Giver [Defamer]

Kudos to Universal for handling all these people with the organization that they did. After the premiere, we were shuttled on buses to Pier 92 where a vast jungle had been recreated complete with waterfalls, vaudeville scenes (this Kong is a period piece), fake snow (which proved to be a hazard as it was more slippery than the real stuff), Kong video game setups, and plenty of free food and booze to go around.

Some of the stars of the movie were there (we happened to spot Adrien Brody, Colin Hanks, and Jack Black) but I was a bit disappointed that the giant Kong had not been moved (or at least duplicated) from its Times Square location. They even had a replica of the tram steamer Venture when you entered the pier, water sound effects and all.

We must say, even by our spoiled LA premiere standards, this one sounded like a must-see. We're left craving more details: Did Jack and Adrien delight the crowd with a take-no-prisoners synthetic-snowball fight? Did the hors d'oeuvres and beverages have cleverly themed names ("Two more Fay Wrays, please, extra cran!")? Was Naomi Watts present, and if so, did she resist the urge to wash down her celebratory cocktails with a handful of Heavenly Blues? And perhaps most of all: Was Lindsay Lohan the only one in attendance who came down with a nasty case of food poisoning, causing her to miss her appearance on Live With Regis and Kelly this morning? Just a heads up, Universal: one batch of bad Skull Island Springrolls and you're looking at a class action lawsuit.

• King Kong Attacks Manhattan [Towleroad]
• King Kong returns to New York [AP]
• Lindsay Lohan Stands Up Regis & Kelly [Gawker]