While split talk had jammed the tabloids essentially since the day they were married in 2000, with Madonna publicly grumbling for years now about her unfulfilled sex needs, the gossip was all so much noise until the fantastic Madgerod Cynthavitz controversy that exploded over the summer. The scandal placed Madonna in Yankees slugger/"fucking soulmate, dude" Alex Rodriguez's comforting, Kabbalah-friendly arms, while A-Rod's wife Cynthia retreated to Paris for an extended stay in an apartment owned by Lenny Kravitz. "Nothing to see here," said Kravitz, who urged calm while Madonna's flack denied that A-Rod had ever charged her client's mound.

Fine, then. Except the Rodriguezes divorced soon after, and as recently as two weeks ago Madonna and A-Rod were reportedly spotted dining together again in New York. This while Ritchie fled the spotlight, tapering off press for his new film RockNRolla and jetting back to England to commence shooting Sherlock Holmes with Robert Downey Jr.. So last night's announcement seems ideally timed for both him and Madge, who is five shows into her Sticky & Sweet world tour, where nearly half of her 25 American dates have yet to sell out. Oh — and her new own directorial debut, Filth and Wisdom, opens in New York and LA this Friday. Convenient!

Not so convenient: The economy of Splitsville. The London Times reports today that the couple didn't have a pre-nup, thus encouraging Madonna to file for divorce in the States, where she'd likely earn a more favorable take from her and Ritchie's $600 million fortune. If Ritchie fights for a London divorce, the legal saga could play out for upward of a year. We don't buy for a second that these details aren't already arranged between the two, but the Times adds that still doesn't guarantee an official split by Christmas, as Madge reportedly hopes for.

Certainly there's more to follow, which we'll report as it happens. In the meantime, don't look so down! We'll always have Swept Away.

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?

I was outside talking with some of the studio flacks when Piven arrived. He did the posing for the camera thing, then when he entered the party (at the Distillery Room, Boiler District) he walked past the full length poster at the entrance, noticed his picture wasn't on it, and very obviously gestured at the poster with a WTF kind of expression in plain view of everyone crowding around the entrance.

He also had two either very expensive or very skanky hookers with him, and everyone around was rolling their eyes at this.

The last part is the best though: At the actual screening, The Pivster was attending the screening with a buddy of his, and at the last minute made his friend give up his ticket to the Gala Screening, so Piven could bring a hooker in with him instead. Buddy got plain ditched outside the theatre.

Classy! Still, dear reader, caveat emptor — in the end, we can confirm neither the appearance nor livelihoods of Piven's date(s) nor the gravity of his friend's predicament. But there are clues: A slump's a slump, after all (especially for Pivs), and anytime a guy can circumvent the plunging dollar with a strategically placed premiere ticket and his memories of partying with the Stanley Cup, a perfect Northern douche storm can really never be too far off.

[Photo Credit: Getty Images]

· A National Post writer went to the party for Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist, where Michael Cera bumped around wearing his backpack and Kat Dennings, ahem, "gave off the unpretentious dewiness that is a visa of sorts to the country of bigger fame for starlets-on-the-climb." And if that fails, there's always Robert Rodriguez's hot tub.

· Tired of his besties at Warner Bros., Patrick Goldstein upgraded in Toronto with newfound documentary sensation LeBron James. The NBA star is featured in Hoop Dreams-ish coming-of-age saga More Than a Game, which tracks five kids — including James (it was only six years ago!) — from their "decrepit inner-city gym" to their contention for a national high school basketball championship. It apparently made James cry and made producer/music mogul Jimmy Iovine call Goldstein, who pimps it lovingly, noting that Lionsgate might be at the front of the line to pick it up.

· At last night's Sony Pictures Classics dinner, Anne Hathaway's shoes deflected attention from Charlie Kaufman's public awkwardness. That was nice of them!

· Which reminds us: Celebrities! Starlets! Ptooey! Canada for the Canadians! [Via David Poland]

· Does anyone up there has a spare camera he or she can lend to Jeffrey Wells? "Three young apes" stole his — and his iPhone. And he missed The Wrestler. At least buy the guy a drink or something if you see him.

· Jesus — first The Wrestler, now Zack and Miri Make a Porno. Todd McCarthy is turning into Harry Knowles.

· Tasting a hint of assent from critics and the public alike, Guy Ritchie OD'd on confidence and announced an entire Rocknrolla franchise. Last we heard, Joel Silver was still shopping the first one.

We think this falls into the "content is king" model evinced recently by Alan Horn, Barry Meyer and the higher-ups at Time Warner — as in, "This content is kind of terrible... Do we really have to release this?" At least that's the impression Horn apparently left with LAT BFF Patrick Goldstein:

Horn was honest about his assessment of the film. "I think it's a well-made picture, but while it's funny in spots, it's very English," he said. "I don't think it's broadly commercial. It feels like a film that deserves a spirited release, but not a wide one. Joel has an 800-screen deal, which we'll honor, but we might not be willing to spend the marketing money he wants us to."

Horn shrugged. "I guess I'm in a shocking state of equanimity," he said. "The filmmakers have every right to do what they think is best in support of their movies. But we have the right to do what's best for Warner Bros. Sometimes the pursuit of those interests results in a disagreement. For now, we're preparing to release the film in October, but I don't see it starting out on 800 screens. If Joel is thinking there is someone out there willing to spend twice as much money as we're willing to, I'm sure he will pursue that."

Director Danny Boyle's Indian adventure Slumdog Millionaire is apparently also on the block after a $5 million acquisition last year by Warner Independent, but Horn insists Warners isn't backing up the dump truck just yet: "I'd like for us to find a way to release movies like Slumdog Millionaire, but we keep coming back to the same question — can we really do it justice?" Translation: "Throw this negative in Joel's moving truck on your way off the lot, will you?" Sure, Alan — anything for you, babe.

• Warners' films: Movie overboard! [LAT]

Cameron Diaz' ex and 3000 star Gerard Butler (we keep trying to forget that we first noticed him in Phantom Of The Opera even though every time we see his now-rugged face we can't help picturing him over-earnestly busting out "Music Of The Night") is fortunate enough to be starring in Ritchie's upcoming Rocknrolla, which means he was unfortunate enough to run into Madge at some point during filming. And as we learned months ago, the Ritchie groupie is always equipped with a baggie filled with needles filled to the brim with Lindsay Lohan's favorite "asthma attack" cure, Vitamin B-12. But according to Butler, the normally healthy kick to the ass advertised extensively be Madonna's most fickle supporter/critic Justin Timberlake, "the injection failed to boost Butler's immune system - and left him feeling worse than before."

Even more embarrassing for Madge, Butler describes her as "the nurse" on set. Meaning she's gone from platinum singer to failed director to failed on-set medical assistant. Frankly we don't blame her if she did get some "filler in her cheeks," as a Daily Mail plastic surgery believes. A little nip and tuck, which, in Madonna's case, doesn't look as horrific as the tab makes it out to be, can go a long way in boosting one's self-esteem. Just look at Bat Face victim Nicole Kidman — it's almost like she never looks unhappy, even when she's so bored by her husband's music that she nods out for a while!

[Photo credits: Splash]

• GERARD BUTLER GOT SICK AFTER MADONNA GAVE HIM SHOT IN THE BUTT [Starpulse]
• HAVE AGE AND STRESS LAUNCHED SHOCKING ATTACK ON MADONNA'S FACE? [Daily Mail]