The Hollywood Reporter: Risky Business

Talking Zodiac

David Fincher and James Ellroy talk about obsessives and crime in this LAT story about Zodiac:

Fincher has made a movie about a cadre of men haunted by the serial killer Zodiac and whose lives are punctured, contorted and shaped by that hunt. Zodiac was a killer who terrorized the San Francisco area in 1968 and 1969, mowing down lovers in secluded lovers' lanes and getting high off taunting the media and the police with bizarre cryptograms that he sent to the newspapers. He then disappeared — and was never caught — although the film details the investigation by two cops, Bill Armstrong and Dave Toschi (Anthony Edwards and Mark Ruffalo, respectively); a boozing, self-destructive journalist, Paul Avery (Robert Downey Jr.); and a shy cartoonist, Robert Graysmith (Jake Gyllenhaal), who comes closest to solving the deaths.

Nora and I were on the edge of our seats last night. The movie is not a conventional thriller; it plays like a character-based 70s movie, with spaces between the scenes. But the presence of the Zodiac killer, which Fincher remembers from his youth, is creepily palpable. The unsolved mystery obsesses these characters and drives the story for decades. The movie isn't being hyped much by Paramount but early reviews are enthusiastic: here's Glenn Kenny in Premiere. It's tracking in the teens, so maybe it'll do some modest business. It's like the well-written journalist movies of the 70s, like All the President's Men or Absence of Malice mixed with a film noir mystery like Chinatown. But it's not a conventionally structured narrative with a happy ending payoff. It's real. Utterly authentic—even if Fincher invisibly digitally paints the movie into gorgeous form.

And Mark Ruffalo gives a remarkable performance as the SF cop who inspired Bullitt and Dirty Harry. Here's an excellent interview on CHUD. Here's The Washington Post's Bill Booth on Robert Graysmith, the SF cartoonist who wrote the Zodiac bestseller.

Oscar Follow-Ups: Nicholson, Foster, Lansing

Jeff Wells gets some more details on the Rob Reiner movie The Bucket List, for which Jack Nicholson shaved his head.

Other Oscarcast follow-ups: Someone close to Jodie Foster told me that she was afraid she was going to lose it when she introduced the In Memoriam section, because she was planning to mention her close friend Randy Stone, a producer she met on Little Man Tate who died at age 48 of heart failure, too late to be included in the film.

I liked the story about how Sherry Lansing was hurt that Tom Cruise was cold to her at an Oscar pre-party--that whisper he gave her on stage was about how he hadn't wanted to give away the surprise that he was presenting her with the Oscar.

Somehow it got by me that filmmaker Giuseppe Tornatore (Cinema Paradiso) edited the ode to foreign films. He did a lovely job.

Getting Fired in Hollywood

Radar Online talks to Annabelle Gurwitch, who turned being fired by Woody Allen into a career:

Laid off, downsized, let go, escorted out by security—however it happens, being fired sucks. When actress Annabelle Gurwitch was fired from a play by Woody Allen, who told her that she "looked retarded," she went through the requisite torrent of tears before realizing that as firing stories go, she had a pretty good one. And, it turned out, so did many of her show biz friends. So Gurwitch took the topic and ran with it, creating a stage show, a book, and now a film, Fired! (in theaters now), with tales of torturous job losses by the likes of Tim Allen, Anne Meara, Judy Gold, Sarah Silverman, Fred Willard, and many more, plus a look at some non-show biz folks whose stories are a bit more dire.

Casting Star Trek XI

Yes, I'm a Trekkie. I grew up with the original Star Trek TV show, with handsome Captain Kirk and leonine Mr. Spock. I fondly recall Sulu, Chekov, Bones, Uhura and Scottie. (Here they all are). And I watched Captain Jean-Luc Picard and his generation, and Star Trek Voyager, too. I never cottoned to Deep Space Nine or the last TV iteration. And I never cared for the movies much. (I still have to catch up with Season One of Battlestar Gallactica.) At long last J.J. Abrams is taking a crack at reinventing the franchise:

Captain's log: Dec. 25, 2008.

Paramount Pictures has set a Christmas Day 2008 release date for the 11th "Star Trek" feature, to be directed by multihyphenate J.J. Abrams. The film will begin shooting in the fall, Paramount said late Tuesday.

Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci, who wrote "Mission: Impossible III" for Abrams and Paramount last year, have penned the screenplay and will executive produce along with Bryan Burk and Damon Lindelof, the co-creator with Abrams of ABC's "Lost." The screenplay is said to revolve around James T. Kirk and Mr. Spock during their Starfleet Academy years and into their first space mission.

"Alex and Bob wrote an amazing script that embraces and respects the 'Trek' canon but charts its own course," Abrams said. "Our goal is to make a picture for everyone -- lifelong fans and the uninitiated."

So who will play the young Starfleet Academy students? Leaks are springing all over the Internet:

On the heels of Paramount's confirmation that J.J. Abrams (Mission: Impossible III, Lost) had been selected to direct the next Star Trek feature, reports began circulating on several movie and sci-fi websites Monday that the studio was in talks with Matt Damon, Adrien Brody, and Gary Sinise to play the roles of Capt. Kirk, Dr. Spock and Dr. McCoy respectively. First reported by IGN Movies, a unit of Fox Interactive, and attributed to unnamed studio sources, the stories also indicated that James McAvoy, who costarred in The Last King of Scotland, was "in the mix" to play the role of Enterprise engineer Scotty.

What do you think? Damon doesn't seem quite right, although he looks a bit like the young William Shatner, and he can be funny (see the Ocean movies). I like Brody for Spock. McAvoy as Scottie isn't bad. But Sinise seems awful serious for Bones.

Meeting Oscar

Billy Vasquez shot this video of regular folks visiting the Academy's "Meet the Oscar" display on Level 3 of the Hollywood & Highland central courtyard last week. It was open to the public, who lined up to get a chance to pose with a real Oscar. It's charming—and revealing of how powerful this icon really is.

It didn't take long for the Academy to crack down on the YouTube clips of the Oscarcast. That's because they want their own trafffic on Oscar.com. UPDATE: Nora's watching Ellen on Oscar night at YouTube right now.

No More Paris

No more Paris Hilton coverage? Fine by me.

Moore Manufactures Dissent

John Anderson has written a NYT story about the documentary Manufacturing Dissent, coming up at South By Southwest, which dissects Michael Moore's brand of POV filmmaking.

Cameron's Jesus Tomb Claims Challenged by Clerics

Yes, filmmaker James Cameron is promoting his upcoming Jesus tomb documentary. But he's not a self-serving wack-job. He considers himself a scientist and a pragmatist, and he's quite sharp. If he has scientific evidence of who's buried in those tombs, I'd take him seriously. Meanwhile he's already prepping the upcoming Avatar in New Zealand.

Presidential Candidates' Movie Faves

The Presidential candidates reveal their favorite movies, and John Edwards picks Dr. Strangelove. Hmmm. Why didn't Barack Obama participate?

Oscar Memorial Secrets

Every Oscar night, I see dead people. But why some and not others? How does the Academy decide who to show in the Oscarcast's annual memorial segment? One man who had hoped his father would make the Academy cut was moved to publish a protest letter in the trades. "No member should be forgotten or left off the list," wrote Robert Haber of his father, art director David Haber, urging others who feel the same way to lobby the Academy's Bruce Davis.

One of my fave Huffington Post bloggers, Gabriel Rotello, investigates how the Academy decides exactly who to include each year:

The Academy does not publicize its criteria for inclusion, but it clearly gives far greater weight to actors (16 of the 33 this year), and seems to have some sort of obscure quota system for everyone else. It also appears to weigh the list for gender, race, nationality and other considerations.

Obviously there has to be some criteria, but you'd think winning an Oscar in a major category, or being nominated multiple times, would guarantee inclusion in what is the industry's ultimate final salute.

Morning After the Oscars

I spent part of today watching the actual awards. During the opening of the show, I was driving back from my chilly stint on the jammed red carpet to the office, arriving when Pan's Labyrinth was winning its second Oscar. Then I ran back and forth between my office and Gregg Kilday's, who has a TV, watching and not watching. I had a Scorsese sidebar to finish off, and the Oscar analysis piece, which was hard to do when you didn't know The Departed was going to be the winner going in. By the time we were done, I was so snackered I blew off the parties and went home, which is unlike me. I love the ritual of celebrating with the winners etc., but I was partied out.

The show was more than fine. OK, so there were some dull parts (Sherry Lansing, Ben Affleck, Pilobilus etc) but I admired the easy way Ellen DeGeneres worked the crowd: especially having Spielberg take her picture with Eastwood. Steve Carell's reaction shot when he was included in the line-up of diverse people was priceless, as was Meryl's chilly look at her gorgeous Prada co-stars. And John C. Reilly, Jack Black and Will Ferrell were hilarious. The commissioned shorts were great, especially Errol Morris's The Nominees. He does find those moments that reveal people. Eddie Murphy's long slow burn was the high point. I was most moved by Clint translating for Morricone, whose film music I have adored for decades, with obvious affection. Those two old guys kill me.

And I was pleased with the picks. Somehow, in retrospect, they seemed right and proper. I wasn't upset by anything. I was surprised when Milena Canonero won for Marie Antoinette, though Nora called that one all along. And shocked by Thelma Schoonmaker, only because she had won twice before. In the end the Academy went with the movie that was the biggest hit, the most expensive and complex to mount, with the biggest stars--all at the top of their form. It's cool that Marty won without campaigning. And King got to give his speech—and didn't thank Brad Grey.

Now I do take my Oscar picking seriously. So, on the first ballot I did for Premiere way back on January 23, I got 15 right; on the ballot I did for Gurus o' Gold about two weeks ago, I got 17 right. I came in third in the office pool, along with Gregg and many others, with 15 right. Nora actually ignored my final ballot, which I posted here late Saturday night. She couldn't believe that Eddie Murphy or Listen wouldn't win. So that last ballot was OK, 18 right.. According to Sasha Stone at Oscarwatch, I tied E-film critic and Hollywood Bitchslap's Erik Childress, MCN's David Poland and Variety's Academy tracker. Not bad. Here's Oscar Central's big predictions chart.

Here's the terrific backstage reporting from Borys Kit, Tatiana Siegel and Nicole Sperling. Here's the LAT's The Envelope. And here's the link on Oscar.com that gets you the Errol Morris short--go down to the pic of Eastwood that says Nominees video. (The load is slow.) And there are some nifty pics at the Getty Entertainment Blog. UPDATE: And here's Ray Richmond.

Reporting the Oscars

Sunday morning on my way in to Beverly Hills to get my hair done, I see Alan Arkin walking down Bedford in a leather jacket and khakis. He seems sober, deep in thought. I pull into the same parking garage as he heads for his car. I'm in my black Oscar suit with wet hair and no makeup. It's about 1 PM. "Don't you have to get dressed?" I ask. He cracks a smile. "There's time," he says. (Here's a cool Alan Arkin story.)

At 2:30 PM the red carpet, which smells damp and moldy where THR editor Cynthia Littleton and I are standing with a Getty photographer, is pretty quiet. Robert Osborne warms up the bleachers crowd, which gives its biggest applause to Little Miss Sunshine and The Departed. Surprise. Chef Wolfgang Puck shows off a tableau of chocolate gold-dusted edible Oscars to be served later at the Governor's Ball. "It's the first time the Oscar goes completely organic," he said. "We have 300 people in the kitchen and 800 waiters." The two guys from Price Waterhouse Cooper pose with their brief cases.

NYT's the Carpetbagger, David Carr, hangs with his homies, the mike-carrying red carpet press across from us, along with Variety's Bill Higgins. The Pilobilus acrobats--incredibly buff, wearing skintight pastel-colored underwear, basically--pose dramatically for the photogs. Chris Connelly sets up to do his Road to Oscars thing.

Among the first stars to arrive are Maggie Gyllenhaal and Peter Sarsgaard; she looks stunning in a royal blue gown with a train of black feathers, which she also has fastened in her chignon. (That's me and Cynthia behind the hedge behind her in this Getty pic.) The Queen's Michael Sheen tells Osborne that he's starting rehearsals for the movie version of Peter Morgan's play Frost/Nixon in two weeks, which he just finished playing in London for six months. There's a rustle in the stands at the arrival of diminutive Mexican stars Diego Luna and Gael Garcia Bernal (Y Tu Mama Tambien).

Disney/Pixar's John Lasseter brings his wife and five sons over for their picture. Adorable. I persuade Pixar's Steve Jobs to pose with Ed Catmull. Jobs points up at the sky at the Goodyear blimp, which is scrolling a message congratulating John Lasseter for Cars. Michael Arndt, who was to win best original screenplay for Little Miss Sunshine, has no voice. Tall drink of water Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, who was to win best foreign film for The Lives of Others, continues his remarks from the Indie Spirits: "People can make the film they want," he says. "They're all free."

Jodie Foster tells Osborne: "I always know where my Oscars are," she says. "They are hiding from everyone." Academy president Sid Ganis, who enjoys introducing himself and his wife as "Sid & Nancy," admits he's nervous. (He has to make a speech.) Producer Laura Ziskin confirms that she has given permission for all five Little Miss Sunshine producers to go up—"if they win," she cautions. (What did she know?)

Sacha Baron Cohen morphs into Ali G as Osborne asks him about shooting Sweeney Todd with Johnny Depp. "Do you fancy him? " Cohen asks.

More than a few folks make their way slowly across the crowded red carpet on canes or wheelchairs.

Genial producer Graham King is gearing himself up for going alone to the podium later if The Departed wins for Best Picture. He has prepared two speeches. One if Marty wins, and one if he doesn't.)

[Photos by Getty Images]

Inside Vanity Fair's Oscar Party

[Borys Kit] If the Governor’s Ball is the high school prom of the evening, then the Vanity Fair party, hosted by the magazine’s Graydon Carter at Morton’s, is the party where all the cool kids of the film, music, fashion worlds cut loose and hang out. And hug it out, if Sunday night was any indication.

Best Picture Oscar-clutching Graham King, who said he had no intention of letting go of his statuette, was hugged by Mark Wahlberg as soon as he entered the restaurant. Moments later, Fox co-chairman Jim Gianopulos threw his hands around King. Also near the entrance, Elton John squeezed Jamie Foxx, then cupped his face and said “I love you.”

Deep inside the party, near the bar and In N Out stand, “Little Miss Sunshine” directors Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris were embraced by “The Number 23” producer Beau Flynn. As opposed to the usual mob scene, Peter O’Toole was given wide berth by the raucous crowd to sit peacefully, accepting hearty hellos from friends like John Lassetter, who cast the vet actor’s voice in this summer’s “Ratatouille.”

Ari Sandel, who won the Oscar for best live action short, enjoyed his time in the sun, as did his statuette, which was smooched by Sean “Puffy” Combs, and then manhandled by Alan Cumming. Sherry Lansing left her little guy in her car, though regretted not bringing it in. “My husband told me someone would have held it for me,” said Lansing, who is happy in her new life fundraising for stem cell research. “Everything has a season,” she said.

Among the countless bold-faced throng, Oscar-wielding Forest Whitaker sliced through the heavy crowd like butter, Kid Rock huddled with Dennis Hopper and Chris McGurk not far from Nataie Maines and husband Adrian Pasdar, Clive Owen shook hands with Ryan Goseling, Jerry Bruckheimer hung out with pal Michael Bay, Liv Tyler bent down to say a few words to Gwen Stefani and Rashida Jones, Jon Bon Jovi and Tommy Hilfiger surveyed the crowd from a corner. Other people caught making the scene included Tom Cruise, Madonna, Anderson Cooper, Tobey Maguire, artist David Hockney, Paul Allen, Diane von Furstenberg, Carolyn Murphy, Scott Stuber, Mary Parent, and Petra Nemcova.