Will someone please tell Gus Van Sant that he is not an angsty gay teen anymore? While we're not asking him to make G.I. Joe 2, he couldn't do something a little bit more than Restless, the story of a young, moody boy who goes to strangers' funerals to cope with his parents' deaths. He meets a young girl in a graveyard who only has six months to live. The film's budget is set at $15 million, $2.5 million of which is reserved for the eyeliner and Manic Panic.

Don't get us wrong, we loved Drugstore Cowboy, My Own Private Idaho, and Good Will Hunting. He even managed to change his formula up by introducing an sad teen (Joaquin Phoenix, before the beard) to an a deluded, ambitious older lady (Nicole Kidman, before the Botox) in To Die For.

But who out there suffered through Elephant, Paranoid Park, Gerry and Last Days? Yeah, we didn't think so. Probably because his experiments on getting depressed teens to improvise for the camera became staid and tedious. We were hoping that Milk, with its message of political empowerment and a movement coming into its own, would be the start of the dear director's second act. Guess we were wrong.

Isn't it time to make some more movies about grown ups? Even Woody Allen went from making movies about young neurotic New Yorkers sleeping with girls way out of their league to making movies about old neurotic New Yorkers sleeping with girls way out of their league. The rest of us are miserable too, Gus. Where's our movie?

But not terribly, either. There were some scathing words, but we've begun to suspect that those have more to do with people's distaste for Allen as a person and an inability to see his films as stand-alone pictures. Mostly though, the film sounds mild and minor, with some requisite Allen ickiness and a few clunky antiquated jokes.

Angry Lou Lemnick of the New York Post finds it creaky and vaguely embarrassing:

Woody has told interviewers he wrote this script years ago for himself and updated it recently.

Yes, there is a cringeworthy gag about our new president being unable to get a cab in New York, and an even worse one about Viagra. And he tries to show he's with it by briefly throwing in a menage a trois, just like in his last film, the far funnier "Vicky Cristina Barcelona."

But few under 50 are going to get his reference to Texas sniper Charles Whitman (he's the Binghamton killer of 1966). Some of the gags are even older, and only occasionally funny.

Two dudes over at Vanity Fair, Frank DiGiacomo and Bruce Handy, have differing opinions. DiGiacomo loved it, saying it's the first Allen movie he's really laughed at in a long time:

For one thing, I go to see his movies hoping to laugh my ass off, and that hasn't happened in a while-at least until I saw Whatever Works.

Whereas Handy just found the May/December romance (between Larry David and Evan Rachel Wood) straight up creepy:

Allen doesn't even bother to make the relationship between David's and Evan Rachel Woods's characters credible. Aside from her being hot, the attraction makes no sense: She's a moron and he's hateful.

Eric Kohn at indieWire also finds the David/Wood pairing frustrating:

Their "marriage" has less credibility than the plot of "Bananas": It's random, abrupt and utterly non-romantic. We never even see them kiss. "I have been patient with your phenomenal ignorance," he tells her, but the cynicism-just like their shared passion-doesn't appear to register.

In the end, though, maybe we're expecting to much from the aged Allen, who has given us so much. Maybe we can just let this be a pretty decent comedy, Jason Guerrasio at Filmmaker Magazine seems to argue:

...Allen's latest work can hardly match his earlier ones shot in his beloved city, so we won't even go there, instead he constructs an entertaining, conventional (for Allen's standards) comedy...

Fair enough. You know. Uh... heh. Whatever works.

Life, the movie director says, is "a tough scuffle," and "a tragic situation." You do what you can. Which, in Allen's case, right now, means promoting his film Whatever Works, starring a fellow neurotic New York Jewish comic, Larry David. And maybe blowing off a little steam about all the hubub about marrying his former step-daughter Soon-Yi Previn.

As long as you’re not hurting anybody … or doing anything that’s causing any mischief or hurting anyone or anything awful, that whatever works to get through your life is fine. All the nonsense about what one should be doing and shouldn’t be doing and what’s quote unquote appropriate according to what I call the appropriate police—it’s nonsense.

Working through these feelings in his film does not (surprise!) seem to have lifted the notorious pessimist's dark outlook on life. "We all still remain in this dreadfully tragic predicament," he told the Observer's Sara Vilkomerson. "And a tragic life."

But don't try to cheer Allen up. He'll assume you're lying. Like those people at his film openings.

I go to the party afterwards and go back into phony social mode where people are exchanging enormous insincerities. They’ve hated the film but they’re saying, ‘Gee, great film. Great film.’

Then again, Allen never re-watches his own movies. Life is much more bleak that way.

Nicole Kidman, plastic bee-stung actress of floundering status, has joined Woody Allen's next movie. Also on board are Josh Brolin, Anthony Hopkins, Naomi Watts, Antonio Banderas, and Freida Pino. Generally Allen's more star-studded movies turn out to be the worst ones (with the exception of Everyone Says I Love You), so this doesn't bode well. [Variety] Meanwhile the so totally still likable Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz are said to be on board a James Mangold-directed movie about a luckless lady love loser who meets a mysterious stranger on a blind date. The movie was originally going to star Eva Mendes and Chris Tucker, so that should speak to its quality. [Variety]

The top 35 ad-based cable networks—Fox News, Food Network, Cartoon Network—are up 7% this year in ratings. Fox, for example, averages a depressing 1.7 million households, up 22% from the same quarter last year. Though other networks like MTV and Lifetime have seen drops, 16% and 12% respectively. Makes sense to us. What with the economy and all, no one has time to pay attention to things like music and women. [Variety]

Hm. Noted conservative 24 producer Joel Surnow (who is responsible for this) is penning a 10-hour miniseries called The Kennedys, which will dig into "the soiled and crooked steps" that the family took to insinuate themselves into the White House. A Canadian distributor plans to shop the idea around Cannes in May. Good luck finding actors! Though, I bet Bruce Willis would look fabulous in a wig and pillbox hat. [Variety]

Area hottie boombalottie Ian Somerhalder (Boone from Lorst) has been cast in a CW pilot called Vampire Diaries. He plays a vampire who is fun one minute, evil the next. And nude. Hopefully nude. [Variety] Former hottie boombalottie Orlando Bloom will be featured in the last unproduced screenplay by the late playwright Horton Foote. He'll play a small town North Carolina policeman. Also joining him in the cast is Andrew McCarthy. [THR]

Donald Sutherland will star in The Eastmans for CBS. [THR] Isaiah Washington is lined up to star in that Lou Rawls biopic everyone's been clamoring for. [THR] The comic American Jesus, about a modern-day bout between the Savior and the Antichrist, may be adapted into a film by X-Men director Matthew Vaughn. [THR]

I’m no opera buff, but I heard that David Cronenberg was directing an opera version of The Fly and I wanted to go. When I saw that decent tickets were like $250 each, I decided to pretend I was a journalist and get in for free. This worked shockingly well. Not only did I get orchestra seats to The Fly, but also tickets to Il Trittico (a Puccini trilogy directed by William Friedkin and Woody Allen) as well as an invitation to the opening weekend black tie gala. In other words, my ass got hooked up.

I arrived at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion on Friday night, at least 20 years younger than everyone else and certainly the only one in a rented Men’s Wearhouse tuxedo. The women, bronzed and tucked within an inch of their lives, were draped in gowns that looked like fine Renaissance tapestries. Golf ball-sized bangles hung from their elongated earlobes. The men had self-tying bow ties and wore patent leather loafers without socks—a move only extremely successful people and total douches can pull off. The crowd even smelled rich. No Axe body spray here, this was strictly a Creed gathering, filled with people who made their money long ago. These guys didn’t have to worry about whether the studio would greenlight their next project; they were too busy donating wings to museums. I grabbed some complimentary champagne and drank a flute or five, thinking it would help me blend in a little better.

The opera began and I was carried all the way to intermission afloat on a sea of alcohol. So much for the performance. Before I knew it, I was in the lobby with the swells once again. There was a reception for the media but I decided to skip it, preferring to stay with my rich brethren. I noticed that a select few of them were making their way to the left side of the auditorium and I decided to follow. They were filing into the Founder’s Room— an exclusive members only club within the already exclusive club of people who attend the opera on opening night. I snuck in, which was surprisingly easy to do because security doesn’t assume anyone would be so uncouth as to pull a stunt like that. The room was a gorgeous wood-paneled affair and the people here made the people in the lobby seem like paupers. There were even some celebs. Michael Eisner stood alone in the corner thumbing through a program. Martin Short walked by entertaining a group of dowagers who cackled at every word he said. William Petersen talked shop with some ancient executives. Don Johnson (!) strutted around with his amazingly tall ex-model wife. Josh Groban was being Josh Groban. I drank more free champagne to steel myself for the opera’s final act.

Soon enough the show was over and it was time for the opening night gala dinner. Only large donors to the opera were invited to this shindig and I was one of the lucky few members of the media asked to cover it. The courtyard of the Music Center had been converted into a banquet hall. Crystal stemware, silver, and a centerpiece of expensive roses graced every table. I was seated off to the side with the other journalists, but they were professional opera journalists, and therefore far classier than I. We dined on filet mignon and creamed Tuscan black kale catered by Patina. A live orchestra tinkled out standards and I fortified myself with still more champagne. Placido Domingo, living legend and director of the L.A.O. took the mike. In his glamorously Italian-accented yet boring speech, he thanked the opera’s many benefactors and introduced the cast and crew. Then he singled out Woody Allen.

Earlier in the evening Woody made his operatic debut by directing Gianni Schicchi, the only comedic opera in Puccini’s Il Trittico. It was a smashing success and received a standing ovation, but the famous recluse never came out for a curtain call. Many of us wondered if he even bothered to show up at all. I certainly didn’t expect him to be at the gala dinner. But as soon as Placido said his name, Woody stood up and shyly waved to the crowd. He had skipped the tux in favor of his traditional uniform-the famous thick black glasses, khaki pants, frayed Oxford shirt, and a blue blazer—and it made him look more like a living cartoon character than a real human being. It’s rare that anyone gets a chance to be near Woody in the flesh, especially Los Angelinos, and within seconds well-wishers mobbed him. Most memorably, Don Johnson came up to him brimming with confidence. “I’m a big star,” thought Don. “There’s no way Woody wouldn’t be psyched to meet me.” But when he tapped Woody on the shoulder and shook his hand, Woody said hi, and then immediately turned to talk to someone else. Obviously Woody Allen could give a shit about Don Johnson. For the briefest second, a look of embarrassment flashed across Don’s face, but then he bucked up and went back to his model wife, pretending all was right in the world.

After that, the evening pretty much died down. I drank the last of my free champagne and floated off into the night vowing to become super rich so I could hobnob like this every year.

[Photo Credits: FilmMagic]

In today's installment: Neil Patrick Harris, Woody Allen, Matthew McConaughey, Brian Grazer, Blake Lively, Pierce Brosnan, Christian Slater, Chris Noth, Jason Lee, Jenny Lewis, John Rzeznik, Dave Navarro, Mark McGrath, Dyan Cannon, Camryn Manheim, Bruce Vilanch and more!

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 6
· I was at the Arsenal in Los Angeles last night and saw (HOT)MIKE BORTONE (Survivor), PAMELA ALDON ( I remember her from Grease 2, but now on Californication and King of the Hill) and LIZA SNYDER (Yes, Please). They looked like they were having a great time, drinking & laughing & hanging out with a bunch of fun people. At one point I thought Liza & Pamela were going to get up & dance with the DJ's, but no luck. Good Times.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 7
· Saw BLAKE LIVELY at Urth Cafe in Beverly Hills. Amazingly, she mistook ME for one of her friends and stopped me as I walked by and said, "Hello." She realized her error and was very sweet in apologizing. She's as pretty in person as she is on TV.

· DYAN CANNON — all 90lbs of her — managed to waft/ tremble/ stumble into my abs class today at Equinox. I thought to myself, "Oh my god, that woman looks like the gorgeous Dyan Cannon, star of my all-time favorite and underrated Al Pacino movie Author! Author! But it can't be her because her surgically enhanced lips are bigger than my ass."

While the instructor yelled at us during the "reverse crunch" series ("this targets LBF, people! Lower Back Fat! Nothing attractive about that!"), I determined that it was indeed her. Her body is 15, most of her face is 35, but her lips are just...wow. A very bad decision. Sort of criminal, really, that some surgeon would go through with that. Someone should hire her for something—but first demand she gets rid of the trout pout.

· I saw WOODY ALLEN & SOON YI today at MOCA. He does not at all try to hide the fact that he's looking at you. Definitely a people watcher.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 8
· While at the Eddie Izzard show at the Kodak, I spotted a very cheery CAMRYN MANHEIM. I always expect her to be in a foul mood but she seemed open and, dare I say, bubbly. As I was waiting for the show to start I felt the cold wave of hack comedy wash over the crowd. As I turn around, I see a T-shirt with a hacky comment and the unmistakable bleached bowl-cut of BRUCE VILANCH entering the room. Watching Izzard perform, Vilanch must have felt like a midget trying to guard Shaq. Hopefully it made him realize he should quit the business and leave the hackiness to butchers, golfers, and Dane Cook.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 10
· I saw JOHN RZEZNIK of the Goo Goo Dolls getting his Polish on at Warszawa in Santa Monica. He was with some appropriately punk looking pals, pretty cool, having his pierogi.

MONDAY, AUGUST 11
· It was the day of hot rocker boys of the 90’s at Equinox on Sunset. Saw DAVE NAVARRO and MARK MCGRATH. Dave’s always there, so that might not be much of a sighting. Mark got approached by some overeager fangirls and looked a bit confused, then scurried away.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 12
· It was a celebrity smorgasbord at Nobu (Malibu) around 8:30pm: BRIAN GRAZER, PIERCE BROSNAN (looking fantastic!), CHRISTIAN SLATER (not so much) and MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY (the usual). They were not all together as that would be just plain weird.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 13
· Driving home from work last night (13 Aug) I passed MIA MICHAELS (So You Think You Can Dance) heading in the opposite direction (west - natch!) on the Santa Monica Blvd. at the Van Ness intersection. She drives something big and Jeep-like and black. Naughty lady was at the wheel and using her cellphone. Brazenly! But then, as we all know, celebs are above the law.

· While waiting outside of my chiropractors office...I see CHRIS NOTH (aka, BIG) come out of "Miss Barry's Bootcamp". He was shirtless and glistening all over (having just finished being tortured by "Miss"). Anyway, he was very nice and did not seem to mind people checking him out (nice bod for an over 50 man). Needless to say my tiny little life got a lot bigger for a second.

· It was a celebrity paradox at Poquito Mas on Cahuenga. First, we see a scruffy yet sexy JASON LEE eating with his son PILOT. He seemed like a typical father with him, very sweet, taking him to the bathroom, making sure he had enough nachos, etc. He had a FULL beard (Jason Lee, not the kid), but it kind of worked on him. Then, just minutes later, an absolutely adorable JENNY LEWIS walked in with a pal. They looked like two sweet high school girls. She and Jason Lee made the awkward "I'm famous and you're famous and we are kind of Silver Lakey-Eastsider cool" nod to each other and I couldn't help but think that they would be an adorable couple. A little too cool for school though, perhaps...

THURSDAY, AUGUST 14
· NEIL PATRICK HARRIS and DAVID WALTON (from Quarterlife) are working up a sweat (separately) at Equinox on Sunset.

Hey dude(tte) are you UP for a THREESOME WITH SCARLETT!!!? To help launch and promote the U.S. release of her new movie 'VICKY CRISTINA BARCELONA' directed by WOODY ALLEN, starring JAVIER BARDEM & PENELOPE CRUZ, and in movie theaters on Friday, August 15, SCARLETT JOHANSSON cordially INVITES YOU to JOIN HER in a SMOKING-HOT THREESOME with one more (2+1) unbelievably darn LUCKY BASTARD WINNER (♂ or ♀).

All you've got to do is e-mail her your most personal and creative response as to why YOU WISH to be included in such an awesome treat, and you will be entered for a chance to win this smashing (baby) once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!

Though we have to give credit to the savvy scarlettjohansson.com production team for their well-timed promotion, we're a little surprised that they're simply soliciting for bad fanfiction and not, y'know, money. Better start clearing out your inbox, boys: those auto erotic fantasies from a certain well-chinned talk show host will have your servers crippled in no time.

• Win a THREESOME WITH SCARLETT Johansson @ ScarlettJohansson.com [ScarlettJohansson.com]

There's just one thing: as the two-thirds of Defamer who've seen the movie can confirm, there is an on-screen threesome in Vicky Cristina Barcelona — albeit a tame, brief one. Details after the jump:

Now, keep this in mind: Woody Allen has never been big on the sex scenes. Even the recent, sensual Match Point was all about the foreplay and afterglow, baring nary a R-rated body part. So, too, is Vicky Cristina Barcelona, which features two separate foreplay scenes, each set in the same darkroom: one where Johansson and Cruz lock lips, and one where the kissing actresses coax Javier Bardem to join in. The latter scene doesn't escalate far beyond "You kiss me. Now, you kiss her. OK, now I kiss her!" but it's still fairly steamy for the Wood-man, all things considered. Is it on par with the champagne-soaked menage a trois from Wild Things? Not unless Scar-Jo gets a do-over with Ryan Reynolds and Barack Obama.

• Can Horny Movie Critics Make Woody Allen’s ‘Vicky Cristina Barcelona’ a Hit? [New York]

• Vicky Cristina Barcelona's Big Three-Way Lie [Gawker]

You see, Penelope has been suffering from a very common disorder among borderline crazy celebrities since she was a wee moth — a troubling situation involving a "monster" living inside her, determined to "sabotage the most beautiful moments" in her life. We can only presume this demon tends to follow the same pattern each and every time she says "Uh oh! Here it is again! Go away and leave me alone!": Flashing its diamond-tipped manicure and next season's skinny men's suit from Marc Jacobs, the pinkies-out being scatters a potent amount of fairy dust on ex-"boyfriends" like Tommy and beer swilling boy-fan Matty McConaughey, distracting their bedazzled eyes from the beard they desperately require. Which is sad, considering one of the nicest things her Secret Lives Of Women director Isabel Croixet had to say about the Spanish star was how the sight of Cruz naked is the "least sexy moment in history." Perhaps someone ought to FedEx a copy of Secrets to those Maxim boys, requiring a "correction" in their next issue?

[Photo credit: The Celebrity Blog]

• PENELOPE CRUZ W MAGAZINE 2008 COVER PHOTO [The Celebrity Blog]

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]

My source says all of Scarlett's Cannes requests/needs had been agreed on by April 27 — hair, makeup, security, hotel — and she was good to go. She'd done all the press for her new album — Anywhere I Lay My Head — and was on the final fitting for her Cannes premiere dress designed by Dolce & Gabanna.

Then she announced her engagement to actor Ryan Reynolds on May 5. On May 6, she attended the Costume Institute Gala at the Met wearing Dolce & Gabbana and a diamond engagement ring.

Suddenly, everything changed. "Within 24 hours of the announcement of her engagement, the studio renigged [sic] on the agreed-on terms for Scarlett's appearance at Cannes. It was insane. She was backed up against a wall. Finally, she personally made the decision not to go."

I just had to ask. Is it possible that Woody Allen was annoyed over his muse's sudden engagement?

"Yes," said my source, who pointed out what she says are inaccuracies in the Daily Mail story. [...]

The Weinstein Company has released an official party line to defend Scarlett's honor: "These reports circling about Scarlett are simply untrue and unfair. Both she and Javier were unable to attend Cannes because of various scheduling conflicts. We look forward to working with them when the film is released in late summer."

So there you have it: Johansson was never the avaricious villainess painted by the report; rather, it was her mentor/father figure/source-of -unsettling- smacking-sounds Allen who was to blame, possessed by the green-eyed demon upon learning he'd lose his cherished muse to a no-talent, prettyboy B-actor from Canada of all God-forsaken places. Ultimately, he lashed out the only way he knew how: by refusing to sign off on a $4000-per-day makeup artist, which as everyone knows is director shorthand for, "Congratulations. I hope you both rot in happiness."

• Is Scarlett Johansson a demanding diva? You decide! [LAT]

"Nobody cared she wasn't there", snapped a prominent New York socialite...

The French branch of Warner Brothers Films, distributors of Vicky Cristina Barcelona in France, had spent weeks negotiating with Johansson's representatives about flying her to Cannes. [...]

Johansson demanded her own exclusive make-up consultant at a cost of 5,000 Euros a day...Johansson wanted to be at an hotel way out in the sticks, some 25 to 30 miles away. [...]

"Also, I think, while Woody's terribly fond of Scarlett, he was a little upset that she wasn't being a team player", an executive connected to the film told the Daily Mail.

It would seem to us a sort of tragedy if the father/daughter, virginity-curious bonds that bind Allen to his frequent muse were somehow compromised by Scarlett's childish diva antics. Hopefully the actress will reign in her ballooning sense of entitlement, lest her collaborator strike back by feigning illness on the opening night of the "Anywhere I Lay My Head Tour," thus rendering an evening of Tom Waits covers virtually unlistenable due to their lack of any clarinet accompaniment.

• Scarlett Johansson misses shining moment at Cannes after studio refuses demands [Daily Mail]

But still: Indy takes the day as usual, with Salon's Andrew O' Hehir nicely setting the table for the endless courses to follow:

Part of me thinks that some flea-bitten Parisian radicals should come and close this shit down right now. And part of me thinks: You know what? Cannes needs Indy. We've had five days here of earnest and serious filmmaking, ranging from mediocre to outstanding, but nothing that feels like a movie that will rock the world. ... But if you want to know whether Ford, Spielberg and Lucas can recapture their mojo almost 20 years after Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, the only answers I can provide are frustrating ones, like kind of and maybe and it depends what you mean.

Such qualifications are everywhere this morning as reviews surge forth, but Harrison Ford and company couldn't seem to care less. "It is not unusual for something that is popular to be disdained by some people," Ford said at Sunday's press conference. "I work for the people who pay to get in — they are my customers. My focus is on providing the best experience I can." We have our own (spoiler-rific) ideas about the results, but even the worst lambasting wouldn't prevent Ford's "experience" from raking in upwards of $140 million over the five-day Memorial Day frame.

Meanwhile, down the block, Harvey Weinstein announced a $60 million adaptation of the novel The Alchemist, to be directed and produced by its leading man Laurence Fishburne. The Hollywood Reporter quotes Harvey as saying: "The book means so much to people on a spiritual level. ... I think there is a bridge to the Middle East in this story." Finally — world peace! From the Weinsteins!

It's no less ambitious than restoring Woody Allen's name, we suppose, which the Weinsteins may have done as well with his much-appreciated Cannes premiere Vicky Cristina Barcelona. (The film even has Timecritic Richard Corliss flirting with relevancy with one of his best reviews in years.) Not to be outdone, Harvey's wife Georgina Chapman is designing its stars' premiere attire. Synergy is a beautiful thing, especially when it comes in the form of a "creme silk gown with embroidered straps" on Penelope Cruz. Alas, Harvey, we have not forgotten about Fraggle Rock. You can't stop what's coming.

[Photo Credit: Getty Images]

boomp3.com


American auteur Woody Allen avoided a lengthy on-set discussion with his D.P. Harris Savides on Tuesday afternoon. Allen just explained to Savides that he could do with whatever he wants with the lighting and framing because, as Allen bluntly put it, he's been on autopilot ever since Deconstructing Harry. According to sources on the scene, Allen said, "It's pretty much the same movie. Well, the same two movies. It's either Crimes & Misdemeanors or young girl/old guy relationship picture. I think this one is an old guy/young woman one, but at this point, I'm not even sure anymore. So, you know, go nuts with the cool lenses and film stock stuff." Then Allen added that he has no confidence in the Knicks' recent hiring of Mike D'Antoni as head coach.

[Photo Credit: Splash Pics]

• WATCH VIDEO

"It wasn't like [Dad 1] and I had so much in common that we could have this great personal relationship. We were at totally different stages in our lives, and I don't think he was necessarily so fascinated by what I was going through. But we were fortunate that we had a lot of chemistry between us. ... At that time, my mom was still coming with me to work. She legally had to be there—thank God she was there!"

"I've been fortunate enough to never be the biggest media sensation. ... If you have somebody waiting outside your house for 32 hours, it doesn't matter how many days you've clocked in on the movie-star meter. You're still a person living your life. I can understand how that must have been for [Dad 2], who's such an icon. I've been fortunate enough to mostly come out unscathed."

"It's been so exciting to get out there and talk to kids—and I say 'kids' meaning my peers—about why I appreciate [Dad 3]. He's confronting health-care issues that affect young people. You know, most of my friends don't have insurance. They're working as photo assistants and stuff like that. These kids on the campaign trail asking questions, they are so well-informed."

"At first it was like, 'What this weird music that your dad listens to?' ... [Dad 4's] songs are very cinematic. I think as a kid I was attracted to that in the same way I loved 'Being For The Benefit of Mr. Kite!'—one of my favorite Beatles songs. It really lets a kid's imagination take flight. ... I was this little blonde girl with a baritone singing voice, which at nine was freakish, I'm sure."

"I don't know why relationships between men and women are always pigeon-holed into being some kind of push-and-pull for sexual power. I'm always kind of weirded out when I'm interviewed by people who say, 'Gosh! [Dad 5] must be in love with you.' It's like, 'fucking expand your mind.' We have a great friendship between us and I have such a fondness for him as a person. I can appreciate his quirks."

Seriously! Expand your fucking minds! It's not like anyone here has fetishized or even married women younger than Scarlett. Oh, wait. And come to think of it, she doesn't look anything like Obama. Anyway, happy guessing.

• My Five Dads [Paste]

''Because it was Penélope and Scarlett and Javier, it got out that there was torrid sex in the picture,'' Allen says. Sorry, that's not the case. There's sex, yes, but it's a discreetly photographed ménage à trois. ''People who come and expect those exaggerations are going to be disappointed.''

Knowing Woody's modesty and unabating horniness, we assume the truth likely reflects an in-between kind of smut featuring Johansson and Cruz in a passionate liplock while Bardem taps each on the shoulder, nervously inviting himself to join in with a succession of one-liners scored to Gershwin. The scene ends with the Spanish hunk sitting up and looking for his eyeglasses, griping about the size of his new apartment while the starlets writhe into the night beside him. We'll take it!

[Photo Credit: Bauer-Griffin]

• Summer Movie Preview [EW via Vulture]

1. Alfonso Cuaron. Del Toro's close friend and (with del Toro and Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu) one of the "Three Amigos" conveniently packaged by American press in 2006, Cuaron was Warner Bros.' surprising pick to helm 2004's Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. But his indie chops came in handy in both humanizing the franchise and positioning it more dynamically against Chris Columbus and Mike Newell's entries that sandwiched it. He's a versatile guy who gets the marketplace but isn't beholden to genre interests; in that way, his similarities to Jackson, who jumped from graphic B-horror comedies like Bad Taste to Heavenly Creatures to LOTR, are almost uncanny. Also, he's just a better director than del Toro; Cuaron could have made Pan's Labyrinth in his sleep, but del Toro couldn't have touched Children of Men.

2. Neil Jordan. Another guy with tons of range, the Crying Game/Michael Collins filmmaker is also a grossly underrated craftsman who could save everyone a lot of time and money by shooting both Hobbit films over about four months in Ireland. Alas, Jackson would likely object to the requisite IRA subplot in which Bilbo Baggins is sidelined indefinitely by injuries sustained in a car bombing.

3. David Lynch. A natural short-lister for any film involving midgets. Plus we all know how well his previous would-be fantasy franchise went.

4. Woody Allen. While it's true that Allen has returned from his four-year European exile with a new project featuring Larry David and Evan Rachel Wood, he has made little secret of his availability to the highest overseas bidder. With this in mind, and seeing as Middle Earth's brow-furrowed humorlessness is perhaps its most annoying attribute, we'd like to see Allen invited to New Zealand for a comic run through Baggins' deeply embedded neuroses — not the least of which is his underage shiksa love interest, played by saucy new Disney cast-off Miley Cyrus.

5. Uwe Boll. Why not? He is the only genius in the whole fucking business.