I can imagine it all right now. The hallway leading up to Brett Ratner's bedroom lined with MTV Music Video awards, scented candles, rose petals and framed photos that'd feel more home in Brett & Bob Evans' 'Book of Us'. The song above blasting through the Bose Audio system all through out the house; vibrating and rattling the windows. Yet the only thing spoken the entire night probably was, "Just not in my eyes, okay?"

[Photo Credit: Film Magic]

[A] few friends of Evans [are] on hand, such as director Brett Ratner, who used to live in Evans's guesthouse.

Ratner bragged that he's making a biopic about Helmut Newton—the late photographer was perhaps Evans's closest friend—if, that is, he can secure the rights from Newton's indomitable widow, June. "I'm wresting with June," said Ratner, adding that he also wants to do a sequel to the documentary Helmut by June, which aired on HBO last year.

"Bob," as most people called him, was nowhere to be seen.

Turns out he was in his bedroom, the inner sanctum from which he often conducts business, and select guests were escorted in, either singly or in small groups, for a private audience. Behind a set of heavy wooden doors, Evans was perched on his velvet-upholstered bed like a pasha upon a pillow. He wore one pair of Oliver Peoples glasses and held a second in his left hand; occasionally he switched for effect.

"When I was growing up, glasses were medicinal," he said. "Now they're cosmetical."

If the reclusive Evans had his way, he'd probably not have appeared at all, choosing instead to narrate the entire party in his soothing baritone from a secret broadcast booth just off his brandy cellar. That leaves protégé Ratner to be the public face of a two-man operation, there to lull any starlets on hand into a comfortable, artistically credible space with bullshit stories about Helmut Newton biopics—the easier to lead them in groups of two and three up the grand staircase and into the master suite for a closed-door "frame modeling session" with the legendary spectacle-fetishist himself.

• Bob Evans People [WMagazine.com]

• Mind Games [YouTube]

It's late in the day, so our resistance to superannuated, frequently beturtlenecked producer Robert Evans' trademarked hypnotic, question-and-answer cadence ("Am I lulling you into a trance-like state right now with the sound of my voice? You bet. Is there anything you can do to stop me? Think again, Trixie. Now do me a favor. Hit that button next to the waterbed that says "The Perfect Storm" and get ready to be capsized by a tidal wave of love, baby.") is dangerously low, but in watching this video clip pimping his in-progress second memoir, we think Evans just admitted that he nearly consented to marry Val Kilmer. Would he have married good ol' Val in the sexual sense? No way, Mary. The Kid ain't no fruitcake, even for a capital-s Star like Mr. Kilmer.

• Kid Notorious [VF.com]

"ROCKY Balboa" star Sylvester Stallone answered a few fan questions on AintItCool.com. But he also cleared up the tiff between him and Robert Evans, which caused him to withdraw from the 1984 Francis Ford Coppola movie "Cotton Club." According to Sly, one afternoon Evans "dumped a duffel bag full of X-rated Polaroids" in front of him, and in that pile was "a very X-rated Polaroid" of the girl he was dating. "I thought blood was going to come out my eyes," wrote Stallone, saying the incident "was beyond anything so perverse."

Whatever doesn't kill you in Hollywood, the old saying goes, is likely to cause massive subconjunctival hemorrhaging, and so we salute Stallone for managing to overcome his body's natural impulse to turn its optical orbits into two gushing hemoglobin fountains the instant they registered the image of his then-girlfriend twisted into a nearly impossible Kama Sutric pose beneath an expanse of rich, Corinthian naked Evans flesh.

[Photo Illustration: Gawker]

• ROCKY TELLS OF EVANS SPAT [NY Post]

There are far too many notable passages in this coming Labor Day weekend's lengthy NY Times story (online now, for some reason) on lavishly upholstered, rapidly calcifying superproducer Robert Evans than we could possibly blockquote in a single post, so chock-full is the article with amusing, self-promotional Evanisms ("I'm a vital force to be reckoned with. I still have great ideas. Call your article 'Evans Reloaded'"; "I've been back at Paramount since 1991. The only ones back then who could have cared about buried bodies are dead and buried themselves"), respectful quotes from Paramount pals Sumner Redstone and Brad Grey expressing their desire to bronze Evans alive and install him atop their iconic water tower, ensuring he's a fixture on the lot forever, and fresh descriptions of his displeasure with Entourage's sneak attack inclusion of a doddering, Evanesque character after he kindly allowed them to shoot at his estate. But even with this aforementioned embarrassment of riches, we find ourselves again overpowered by the intensity of feeling between Evans and protege/twilight life-partner Brett Ratner, who is touchingly reserving the full application of his hacky gifts to the eventual cinematic realization of Evans' still-unpublished (and unsold) second memoir, The Fat Lady Sang:

But Mr. Evans also goes to great lengths to describe his friendship with and admiration for Mr. Ratner, a well-known figure on the industry party circuit who's had mixed success since he hit the radar with "Money Talks" and the "Rush Hour" series almost 10 years ago.

Mr. Ratner returned Mr. Evans's flattery in a phone interview last week. " 'The Fat Lady Sang' will be made into a film with me directing," Mr. Ratner said. "I want either Johnny Depp or Hugh Jackman to play Bob, who I consider not only one of the greatest producers of our time, but one of the greatest philosophers. 'The Fat Lady Sang' will be my Oscar picture."

We were as stunned as you to discover that Ratner's utterance of the phrase "my Oscar picture" did not, as we expected, suck all of greater Los Angeles into a black hole summoned into existence by the sheer force of the director's delusional self-regard. With the universe at least temporarily seeming to remain intact, we'll reserve further judgment on this theoretical project's Oscar worthiness until some footage is actually shot; we imagine that the film's final scene, in which Johnny Depp (obscured beneath six hours' worth of exactingly overtanned prosthetics and painstaking turtleneck-replication work) silently expires in a slowly rotating waterbed as all of Hollywood gathers at Evans' estate to hear the philosopher-Kid's final words of wisdom, could be an incredibly moving one, even if the stubbornly visionary Ratner insists that the deathbed explode magnificently once his dear friend passes.

[Photo: Getty Images]

• No Kid, but Robert Evans Still Stays in the Picture [NY Times]

Could HBO's Hollywood-skewering hit "Entourage" be getting its first lawsuit from a target? [...]

When the episodes aired these past two weeks, the "Kid Stays in the Picture" writer was angry to discover that they'd made his character into a bumbling, addled mockery of himself.

"They named the character 'Bob' and made him an old, loopy producer," said a source. And the final insult is, "They even used Evans' own house in the show!" [...]

An HBO rep said yesterday, "Bob Ryan was not based on Robert Evans."

While the HBO flack's eight-word rebuttal may do little to assuage Evans' outrage over the perceived caricature, we doubt he'll go so far as to sue, as the Daily News item suggested he might. Hollywood is teeming with superannuated, ex-movers-and-shakers looking to leap back in the game, and we imagine it would be next to impossible to prove in a court of law that Bob Ryan was a libelous creation based purely upon the producer. We think once he cools down a bit, Evans will be able to eventually appreciate Ryan's TV follies—especially after the introduction of a sidekick in season three: Brent Shatner, his husky, hacky protege, also a completely original comic creation of Entourage's crack team of writers.

• Evans flies into an 'Entou-rage' [NY Daily News]

The current apex of private aces is the court of legendary producer turned raconteur Robert Evans, next to the blue-tiled, egg-shaped pool at his 1940 French Regency mansion, which was once owned by Greta Garbo. Over the years, Mr. Hoffman, Jack Nicholson, Warren Beatty and Ted Kennedy have all scuffed its surface. (The umpire chair is a gag gift from Mr. Hoffman; apparently, Mr. Evans has been known to take liberty with his line calls.) "I'd be playing there on Friday evenings and see Nicholson or Sumner Redstone come through the gate to go to a screening that Bob was having of the latest studio releases," said one longtime visitor, a producer. Alas, Mr. Evans' screening room burned down in 2003, and since his 1998 stroke he no longer personally hosts his own games. But the court is still open to others seven days a week, and no one seems to mind that it isn't in the spiffiest shape. "It's not very well maintained; it's very uneven," one regular player said. "It's a bit like playing on broken glass."

Transparent metaphors aside, one can hardly fault Evans for not keeping the tennis facilities in better shape; the producer, now in his mid-seventies, is simply prioritizing the upkeep of the area where he gets his daily exercise. You can be sure that none of the freelance exercise companions who drop by to be chased around his waterbed will ever complain that its playing surface is anything less than impeccably maintained.

• Tinseltown Tennis! [NY Observer]

The movie producer and author of "The Kid Stays in the Picture," who just split with his seventh wife, was wearing a white linen suit with a white shirt. As he got on an elevator, he was greeted by a doctor he knew: "Robert, all white? What are you bucking for, the head nurse position?" Evans replied without missing a beat, "No, but I'd like to get her into a position or two." Chuckles all around. Evans got off first with, "Take care, Doc." The doctor replied, "You too Robert."

Upon being informed that Cedars Sinai is a place staffed by actual nurses and not the kind he could pay to participate in various intimate acts in an "intensive care fantasy suite," a confused Evans politely apologized to the doctor, then asked to be directed to the nearest French maid employment agency.

• PRODUCER ALL WHITE & OUT OF POSITION [Page Six]

• Divorce No. 7 for Producer Robert Evans [People.com]
• When Bob Met Lady V: A Love Story [Defamer]
• The Kid Goes For Seven [Defamer]

• 'Idol' Frozen Moment: Hasselhoff Sheds A Tear [Defamer]

They've been seen together in various modes of dining and socializing in the lobby bar and garden restaurant, according to my Hollywood spies. Of course, Lohan been seen with lots of famous types at the Chateau, my sources point out.

I am told that Lindsay and several female buddies have also spent time at Ratner's Hillhaven Lodge, formerly the home of Ingrid Bergman. Why not? The preceding owner, "Grease" producer Alan Carr, left behind a full-size disco with mirrored walls and a silver disco ball.

But, as Ratner likes to say, it's more about schmoozing and dessert than anything particularly weird. Ratner's grandparents live in the guest house, which is hard by the front door. The grandmother is in and out of the main house kitchen, sort of like a sitcom, and there are non-stop visitors. It's hard to get away with anything secret at Hillhaven. [...]

Ratner, who's said to be giving Lohan advice and providing a shelter to her from the gossip storm, is a little too busy to do anything else right now. He's finishing "X Men: The Last Stand," which will debut in Cannes a few days before its May 26 opening in theaters.

Whew, that was a close one. We're really not in a place where we're prepared to start pondering something "weird," like Ratner, septuagenarian best buddy Robert Evans, and Evans' trusty butler English staging a 70s-throwback orgy with Lindsay and her pals underneath the multicolored light scattered by that disco ball. Nope, we couldn't possibly handle that, so we'll go right on thinking that this is nothing more than the typical sexless, mentor/mentee relationship that Hollywood is so famous for.

• Lindsay Lohan Has a New Mentor [Fox 411]

8am I'm incredibly busy at the moment, so I get up early despite having had a bunch of people - Paul Allen, Quincy Jones, Salma Hayek - over for dinner last night. My housekeeper prepares my breakfast and, while I eat, my assistant, Mike, goes through my call sheet - all the people I have to call today and all the people who've called me. On an average day I receive about 50 phone calls. Normally there are about ten things happening simultaneously.

9am I get into my Bentley and drive to Fox Studios, where I'm currently editing X-Men. The movie stars Hugh Jackman, Patrick Stewart, Ian McKellen, Halle Berry and Kelsey Grammer and is going to be awesome. Editing is done on state-of-the-art digital equipment in three different bungalows, and I move constantly between them. [...]

1pm Lunch at Mr Chow on Camden Drive with Roger Birnbaum, who is producing the next Rush Hour movie. I'm friends with Mr Chow and normally go there for dinner - when it's more of a scene - but it's nice for lunch as well. While I'm there I catch up with Oliver Stone, who's sitting two tables down from us. He's made a documentary on Fidel Castro that hasn't been released yet. I'm dying to see it - I love documentaries - and he says he'll send me a copy. Courtney Love, who's a good friend of mine, is also there. She's sitting at the table next to me with Mike De Luca, the former head of New Line and DreamWorks.

6.30pm Take a limo to the Cosmo party with my grandparents (who live in my guest house) and my girlfriend, the model Alina Puscau. The party is fun. I catch up with Matt Dillon. We were friendly at NYU film school, but I haven't seen him for a long, long time.

10pm Carry on to Pen lope Cruz's house. She is throwing a party for Paul Haggis, the director of Crash. All the cast are there: Sandra Bullock, Brendan Fraser, Thandie Newton and Don Cheadle.

Sadly, our little industry Candide's diary doesn't end with a hot-tub session in which he and best pal Robert Evans rub each other's feet and discuss their days navigating the Hollywood dream factory. But then again, Ratner's third acts are always a little disappointing, aren't they?

• One day in Movieland [Stella.telegraph.uk]
• Previously: There Goes the Neighborhood: Brett Ratner Dot Com [Defamer]

Instrumental to the success of this Tisch Los Angeles alumni initiative is an Oscar Party which Tisch alumnus and celebrated filmmaker Brett Ratner has graciously offered to host and sponsor at his home on the evening of March 2. The proceeds from this event will create a fund to support alumni programs. I am writing you to make you aware of this exciting initiative and to ask for your support for the Oscar Party on March 2. The party will be a small gathering of 50-75 guests featuring a "vintage" Hollywood theme, screenings in Brett's theater, dancing and a buffet dinner and bar. Dean [redacted] will be joining us for the event. It should be a fun, festive and memorable evening. If you would like to be a sponsor for the Oscar Party or reserve tickets at $250 per person, please call me at 212-xxx-xxxx.

Woo hoo! [sound of two hands connecting in a high five] Party at Ratner's house! Be forewarned: While you think the $250 cover charge might include a piggy-back ride from Ratner in his Wolverine suit (and wearing a matching leather bow-tie, of course), be prepared for disappointment. He probably doesn't want to risk injuring himself and ruining his annual Oscar night plans of turning defiant donuts in his Ferrari outside the Kodak Theater while best pal Robert Evans woozily moons the red-carpet throng from the shotgun position.

• Previously: Hollywood Holiday Cards: Brett Ratner’s X-Mas [Defamer]

Waiting to get a prescription filled with my girlfriend at Mickey Fine pharmacy on Roxbury yesterday when a young man came in asking for Rembrandt anti-aging toothpaste. He became slightly agitated when he was told that Rembrandt had discontinued the line.....and the assistant said—I assume it was his assistant—"You don't tell Bob Evans that something is discontinued."

Gasp! You most certainly do not tell Robert Evans that something's been discontinued and force the aging onetime superproducer to confront his own mortality. Brett Ratner once tried to tell him that the escort service discontinued its Naughty French Maid line, and the enraged mentor made his hacky acolyte wear nothing but a white lace apron and fishnet stockings while paddling Evans's meticulously tanned hindquarters with a metal spatula for five uninterrupted hours. That day, Ratner learned that nothing's ever really discontinued for someone with the right stuff to succeed in this town.

• Previously: Brett Ratner Climbs Into Bed With Robert Evans [Defamer]
• Beverly Hills Pharmacy To The Stars [Defamer]

This week we will be in bed with one of our country’s master film directors who has the distinction of having his first five films (Rush Hour, Rush Hour 2, Money Talks, Family Man, and Red Dragon) grossing over one billion dollars and is currently directing X-Men 3.

It is not an interview rather a seductive man to man conversation that you can only have in the bed of the notorious Robert Evans. Is it inspiring? For anyone interested in the world of film, you’ll learn more in this hour and be inspired more than spending 4 years in film school; it’s an express train to making it big, no bullshit all fact. You’ll laugh loud and learn much. Don’t miss it, unless you’d rather go backward than jump forward…A collector’s treasure for sure, and them tuition fees? It ain’t worth it.

Rather treasure this mano y mano tough talking task of making it to the top. They did it…why shouldn’t you? Suck it all up. It will awaken you to the realization that if they did so, so can you.

It's true—virtually no 4-year film program offers you the chance to listen in on an hour of this no-bullshit master class between wizened master and hacky student in that legendary bed. Unless, of course, you're working your way through school as an escort, happen to be on call during the show, and can pretend not to be turned off by overly tanned wrinkles and After the Sunset.

• THIS WEEK ON IN BED WITH ROBERT EVANS [TheRobertEvans.com]
• Brett Ratner And Robert Evans: Their Love Still Smolders [Defamer]
• Robert Evans: The Kid Stays In The Bed [Defamer]

Lady V. was smitten and determined right off the bat. She did all the usual stuff: running into him accidentally on purpose, taking tennis lessons on the court at his home, etc. But finally she fell back on a cliché that really does work sometimes: "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach." So she baked him a pie. A pal chuckles, "Before the first slice was served, they were engaged!"

Of course, it didn't hurt that she served the pie to Evans on the stomach of a 22-year-old hooker; a savvy manhunter knows to use her quarry's weaknesses against him. After the jump, Smith also (finally!) codifies "The Bob Evans Eight Rules of Love":

Lady V. hasn't asked for any advice on how to hold her man, but those close to him suggest "The Bob Evans Eight Rules of Love."

1. Don't decide to become an actress. 2. Never be jealous — give Bob a long leash.
3. Don't redecorate his house.
4. Own your own car.
5. Don't try to persuade him to give up that silver lariat he wears around his neck. It's a lucky charm from a belly dancer.
6. Be up before noon, even if he's still in bed.
7. Don't ever be late. Especially for dinner with Sumner Redstone.
8. Smoke anything you like, but Bob detests a lush, so don't drink to excess.

Number 4 is really crucial. When the relationship ends, it's much more dignified to drive your own vehicle away from the Evans compound than it is to have trusty manservant English drop you and your steamer trunks off at the nearest bus stop in the Bentley.

• ELLE PUTS J.LO TO TEST [NY Post]
• THESE TV FOLKS EAT LIKE BIRDS [NY Post]
• The Kid Goes For Seven [Defamer]

The legendary producer will tie the knot to his short-term love, Lady Victoria White, in Cabo San Lucas on Saturday at the One & Only Palmilla resort. PAGE SIX first reported their engagement two weeks ago, which came three months after they met via mutual friends and fitness guru Nikki Haskell. One pal said: "He flew down to Mexico Tuesday morning with Victoria and his kids. His son, Josh, will give him away and her mother will give her away." Evans' rep declined comment.

After what will certainly be a beautiful ceremony (pal Brett Ratner is going to make the cutest ring-bearer), trusty butler English will remain behind for two weeks, ready to forge the annulment papers the instant Evans bores of his new bride. Life's too short to be stuck with a drag of a broad, baby. [Ed.note—That last line shoud be accompanied by a wink, a finger-gun, and the sound of two tongue clicks, in that order.]

• LUCKY SEVEN [NY Post]
• Robert Evans Goes For Lucky Number Seven? [Defamer]

Best Hollywood moment: A few years ago, I called around to some production companies to drum up business as a freelance script reader. When I called the number I had for The Robert Evans Company, the person who picked up was actually Robert Evans — and he was totally cool! He didn’t need a script reader, but was very gracious about it and thanked me for calling.

At first, the eager young job-hunter was skeptical that she was speaking with the real Robert Evans. But when the voice on the other end of the line suddenly deepened into a lascivious purr and asked, "Hey, tomato, while I got you on the line, what are you wearing?" she knew that she was conversing with the authentic item, and a touching Hollywood memory was born.

• Spotlight On [Hollywood Momentum]