Sixty years ago, actor/singer/heartthrob Tab Hunter was outed. The story goes that in 1955, Hunter’s first agent Henry Willson sold Hunter out to gossip rag Confidential so that the magazine wouldn’t publish a piece outing another client of Willson’s, Rock Hudson. Despite being something that at the time was virtually inconceivable—especially for all-American boys—Hunter’s career thrived.
EDM Ken-doll and Taylor Swift consort Calvin Harris was seen leaving a Thai massage parlor on Sunset Boulevard earlier this week, after spending two hours inside. Radar reported the spot Harris visited received raves on Yelp as the best “happy ending” spot in town, conjuring visions of a normal human man casting about for relief from his obligations to an exquisite celebrity android. But when it comes to professional handjobs, there are more reliable sources than Yelp, and, apparently, more reliable massage parlors than In Thai Spa.
It’s always nice when couples have common interests, like skiing or manga or believing in fairytales. For example: In 2008, Taylor Swift sang, “I had so many dreams/About you and me/Happy endings/Now I know,” in the ballad “White Horse.” Then, on Thursday, her official boyfriend Calvin Harris visited a Thai massage parlor that—according to Yelp—provides the “best happy endings” in Hollywood.
“I have, obviously, shit to say,” said Rose McGowan earlier this week at a suite in New York’s Edition Hotel, where she was promoting her directorial debut, the short film, Dawn. “I’m not saying it’s good stuff, but I’m saying I’ve got stuff to say.” For almost 30 minutes, McGowan and I talked about Hollywood (McGowan is best known for her roles in things like Scream, Charmed, and The Doom Generation), fame at a young age (“It fucked me up”), and the controversial statements she made last year on Bret Easton Ellis’s podcast regarding misogyny amongst gay men and the state of the struggle (“I see now people who have basically fought for the right to stand on top of a float wearing an orange Speedo and take molly”).
He's responsible for the likes of 1983's Videodrome, 1986's The Fly remake, 1988's Dead Ringers, and 2005's A History of Violence, but David Cronenberg may have delivered his most disturbing movie with Maps to the Stars. It's a tale of celebrity aspiration and Hollywood misery that weaves together incest, mental illness, a dead kid or two, a burn victim (played by Mia Wasikowska), a washed-up actress gunning for another hit who resembles what Lindsay Lohan might be like in 15 years (Julianne Moore as Havana Segrand), and a Bieber-esque child star who's already been to rehab (Evan Bird as Benjie Weiss). It's full of desperation, violence, and excruciatingly grim humor. There are images in this movie that are as indelible as they are hard to look at.
The Hollywood Reporter is running a great series right now called "Brutally Honest Oscar Ballots" in which a real life Academy voter is granted anonymity in exchange for full candor in evaluating this year's nominations. The pieces are good if you would like to know what films might win awards this year, but even better if you would like multiple examples showing why Academy voters are fucking crazy.
One of the central figures in the sex abuse allegations against X-Men director Bryan Singer was Marc Collins-Rector, a registered sex offender and one-time Hollywood power player whose mansion was the site of alleged rapes. Collins-Rector hadn't been seen publicly since 2007, but his whereabouts were revealed today by Buzzfeed.
Actor Chris Hemsworth and Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences President Cheryl Boone Isaacs woke up early Thursday morning to announce this year's Oscar nominations. But if you didn't set your alarm for 5:38 a.m. and 30 seconds PST to watch the incredibly boring live telecast, here's all you need to know: Tom Hanks and Oprah, both widely expected to receive acting nominations, were snubbed.
Despite the widespread popularity of HBO's hard-hitting documentary series Entourage, young naive hopefuls somehow still want to make the trek out to Los Angeles in search of cold pressed juice, a producing credit on a movie, and a preferred parking spot in UTA's recently revamped Beverly Hills offices.
THIS IS NOT A TEST: In an interview with Variety, newly elected LA mayor Eric "I'm Not a Regular Mayor, I'm a Cool Mayor" Garcetti declared a state of emergency for California—a figurative state of emergency, duh—as film and television productions continue their exodus out of the state in lieu of locations with more favorable tax breaks.
Business cards, for some reason, are still in existence, despite smart phones and the seemingly pervasive notion that they're outdated and useless. Yes, business cards serve as certifiable evidence that you, friendly human, are employed and/or hope to be employed, but hand them out sparingly. For instance, that nice middle-aged couple who lives in a two-story rancher who needs an exterminator? Great, they'll probably appreciate your business, Jerry, of Jerry's Bugs-Be-Gone. And that nice fella you met at the Rosenfelds' dinner party last weekend who was interested in an estimate on a new deck? They will probably give you a shout on Monday, Bob, of Bob's Custom Home Building and Contracts. Other than that, keep them in your wallet, right behind the AAA card, and save it just in case the local pizza parlor has a fishbowl on the counter offering you the chance to win your company two free large pies with unlimited toppings, woo-hoo.