· "Eli Roth lines up Cotton, Species" isn't just a euphemism for what happened during the filmmaker's latest oversexed message-board visit. It's the headline announcing Roth's return to writing-directing after his successful acting stint as an Inglourious Basterd. He's announced he'll be angling his new exorcism film Cotton for a world premiere at this winter's Sundance Film Festival, putting together the script for his sci-fi debut Endangered Species along the way. The Park City Albertson's will order an extra case of Kleenex just to be safe. [Variety]
Mark Wahlberg considers setting sail, Gregg Araki goes back to school, and more Hollywood Ink after the jump.
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· All those spectacular effects depicting L.A. being belched into the Earth's core in the 2012 trailer detracted from the stunning performances delivered by John Cusack and his co-stars. Enjoy them again, for the very first time. [via Videogum]
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Roman Polanski's wife, the actress and pop singer Emmanuelle Seigner, recently had her new album's release date moved from next month to some time in 2010. Executives are concerned that a duet between Seigner and Polanski is a little too much too soon under the current circumstances -- particularly with Seigner's line, "Who are you, sir, what are you doing in my bed?" and Polanski's reply, "I am the personification of love." The song's rumored working title, "Half a 'Lude," is reportedly being scrapped as well. [Mirror]
During the first Late Show taping since David Letterman shared the stunning details of the latest extortion plot against him last Thursday, the host took the stage this afternoon to rousing audience applause. After making a few lighthearted monologue jokes at his own expense ("I get in the car this morning and the navigation lady wasn't speaking to me. Ouch."), Letterman delivered heartfelt apologies to his wife, Regina Lasko, and his Worldwide Pants staff for the indiscretions he admitted to last week. The apology transcript and monologue video after the jump.
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Back in June, when we'd caught our first glimpses of Gemma Arterton and Sam Worthington in full Clash of the Titans costume, our reaction was -- who's doing wardrobe on this remake? Ahmadinejad? This is Clash of the Titans not The Husband of Ahoo Khanom, people. Let's burn those burlap burkas and get some gauzy god-and-goddesswear going, shall we? Some flimsy loincloth acton? A loose-fitting toga? Something?
Unfortunately, the latest batch of set photos suggests the cast continues to be outfitted in roughly the same amount of layers as your average NHL goalie. And don't get me started on Zeus -- apparently they've confused their Arthurian legends with their Greek myths. If you're having trouble remembering how skin-friendly the original was, I've put together a little collage after the jump. It's NSFMt.Olympus!
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The Paley Center for Media has chosen to honor The Simpsons and the Showtime network as this year's fundraising gala on Dec. 8 at the Beverly Hills Hotel. The two selections have more in common than you may think; both have depicted an unconventional American family, found provocative ways to address social issues, and addressed the pervasive problem of loonies having cows. [Variety]
Presumably, there are only so many scripts making the rounds that a "humongous famous actor" and "the most famous director ever" are currently attached to (or at least circling). That said, suggestions are welcome as to which high-profile project disgusted actress Sarah Paulson so much that she not only threw its "terrible" screenplay across the room, but also felt compelled to go semi-public with her disapproval.
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Fans of the original Fame -- and Christina Hendricks counts herself as one -- probably would have hated MGM's critically eviscerated remake, had they bothered to see it. But any disappointment or discomfort audiences might have felt watching the fondly drawn characters of the original de-legwarmered and glossified beyond recognition pales in comparison to what Sir Alan Parker, director of the 1980 version, experiences every time a spot for the remake flashes across his telly screen. The London Telegraph quotes Parker as comparing the film -- which is #1 in Britain this week -- to the time he was followed home by muggers and robbed in his own home:
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Ellen Page spends the entirety of Whip It trying to escape the beauty contest circuit, but if she'd just submitted to those traditional tropes of teen femininity and won the big tiara in the third act, maybe the movie would have opened to better than $4.8 million this weekend. As the dismal bows of Jennifer's Body and Whip It have proved this fall, the teen girls who turned Twilight into a phenomenon may be powerful, but producers who ignore their desire for submissive romance, pretty dresses, and conventional female leads do so at their own peril. (I'd hate to be attempting a studio sale of rock grrl biopic The Runaways in this climate). Don't believe me? Check out this list of recent films that opened better than Whip It:
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For the first time in Bones' five-season history, the Fox series shut down production today because of a flu virus infecting the cast and crew, including star David Boreanaz. Hart Hanson, the show's creator, took to Twitter to joke, "Damn swine flu! That's gonna cut into Christmas!" After a show spokesperson quickly clarified that there is no evidence that anyone is actually suffering from the swine flu and producers hope to resume production on Bones tomorrow, Hanson signed back into Twitter to apologize and perpetuate his poor taste, "I'm now going out to get swine flu myself in atonement." [Entertainment Weekly]
· Stellan Skarsgård is joining the cast of Thor, even though its producers famously broke the heart of his son Alexander when they passed him over for the title role. Still, don't cry for Alex -- he's moved on, and is shown here flashing some sideboob on the set of Straw Dogs last week.
· Three Rivers flatlined in its debut last night, coming in fourth in its time period. We have found the outer limits of America's tolerance for hot doctors.
· It looks like Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem are heading for the altar.
· Chris Rock is boarding the Oprah Winfrey-produced comedy Will You Be My Black Friend?
· When asked why he's accepting a stint on General Hospital, James Franco essentially confirms what we all figured: "It's performance art."
Ethan Boroian, the Chicago-born 19-year-old who waltzed into Britain's The X Factor and sent judges into a foamy-mouthed lather -- eliciting comments like, "Yes, please, I'd like another slice of you, you yummy slab of boy paté" -- has been eliminated from the competition. ELIMINATED! Judge Cheryl Cole compassionately explained that while all his performances have been remarkable, the one sung a cappella on The Lenai of Truth was slightly subpar; she then pressed a button hidden on the side of her wicker couch, sending Ethan down a trap door and into coffee house oblivion. (If you look closely, you can actually pinpoint the exact moment his Wiggumian heart breaks in two.) Why do we have a feeling this isn't the last we've seen of Ethan, who should wash up on our shores in a few months to reclaim his title on American Idol, or better yet, X-Factor U.S.A.? [YouTube]
Well, that was fast: Less than a week after speculation began in earnest that Ron Meyer was plotting a regime change at the hit-starved Universal Pictures, David Linde and Marc Shmuger are out of their jobs as the studio's co-chairmen. They're being replaced, as predicted, by Universal's current marketing boss Adam Fogelson.
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At its New York Film Festival premiere, Mo'nique yet again refused to show up to support Precious, sparking rumors that after suffering the star's money demands, Lionsgate has quietly switched its Oscar push in the supporting category to Mariah Carey. Mo'Nique, would you care to explain? "When people say, 'You care more about money than winning an Oscar,' well, what does an Oscar mean?" she told the NYDN. "An Oscar means more work when you win it, and that means more money! I couldn't eat that Oscar. Everybody needs money, baby. That's how we survive, right?" Exactly! What? [NYDN]
In the hours and days since David Letterman's bombshell assertion that he was being blackmailed by a 48 Hours producer with whom he had shared a mistress, the shock has somewhat subsided, replaced by further tumbling skeletons, the taunts of Letterman's competition, and questions from an insatiably curious public -- to the tune of a nearly 40% surge in ratings for the Late Show.
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