It’s Friday night, and we’re in a mansion high atop a mountain somewhere in nearby Deer Valley, the kind of place that doesn’t have an address. A cab driver takes me over. He reminisces about the old days at Sundance. “I’ve had some crazy times, man.” I ask him what he means. “Oh, you know: big parties, hot tubs, cougars.” He’s a local, remembers sending the yellow cabs that drive up from Salt Lake City during Sundance on wild goose chases around town. But GPS put an end to that, he says, sadly.
Which I’m grateful for tonight, actually: It’s all we can do to find the hotel at the base of the mountain, where in the lobby I give my name to a waiting factotum, who dispatches another factotum, who brings another car around. I get in and we drive for a while, heading up the hill. There is no address because this road is private: We pass through one gate manned by a security guard, and then another, pairs of leaping deer glinting off the ironwork. Up the mountain we go, making lefts and rights at seeming random, speeding up in the dark.
Kim K and Kanye: The couple went to Cannes together and "caught up, wandering the streets until 7 A.M., cherishing quiet time before the inevitable flashbulb frenzy at that evening premiere of West's short film, Cruel Summer." Fighting the rumors that their relationship is just a publicity stunt, friends say they "are the real deal." Kanye is "playing for keeps. He waited for Kim. He knows they're meant to be." She comforted his anxiety over the response to his film, while "he kept brushing her cheek and kissing her." While Kanye has gotten Kim to dress "more chic, with his advice," Kim's effect is that she's "making him gentler. He isn't so intense now." Why hate? They're perfect for each other.
Sean Penn: "I am constantly embarrassed by my own personality."
Kelly Ripa: "Going to Fiji is not marriage. Going to Costco is marriage."
James Franco's Commencement Speech: "Spread your eggs. Don't like eggs? Too bad."
The Lana Del Rey buzzsaw rampages on! Mere months after busting out on your RSS feed, the pouty crooner has booked international TV appearances, a major label record deal -- and, now, a gig on Saturday Night Live. Yesterday, Del Rey was announced as the musical guest for the January 14 episode, the one hosted by Daniel Radcliffe. If you’re just tuning in: Del Rey broke out with her YouTube hit “Video Games,” then was quickly knocked for perceived inauthenticity when it turned out she used to perform by her birth name, Lizzie Grant, and also maybe used to not have such dramatically photogenic lips. (Representative Tweet: “Please tell me lana del rey is really a new natalie portman video directed by Lonely Island?”) Now we seem to be in the backlash-to-the-backlash stage, or possibly the pre-backlash-to-the-backlash. Or maybe everyone’s just run out of anger to spew? Either way, these days, with her debut Born To Die a month away, the internet seems to be a little less actively mad at Lana.
It’s a well-known fact — or, at least, a well-known Megan Fox quote — that everyone in Hollywood does drugs. Hard drugs, soft drugs, designer drugs, love drugs — all flow freely at fashionable Brentwood boites. It’s constant, prevalent and — this is key — completely hush-hush. In fact, the only people who probably aren’t high this very minute are the actors who are out talking about it in the first place. Case in point: This month two squeaky clean young thespians made waves for admitting sudsy, substance-abusing pasts. First was secretly-not-youngGlee jock Cory Monteith, who, in an interview with noted muck-raking rag Parade, practically drew track marks on his arm with a crayon, so desperate was he for street cred. “I was out of control,” he insisted, before going on to describe a youth full of “skipping school, drinking, and smoking marijuana” which, when last we checked, was also known as “youth.” Not one to be outdone, professional wizard Daniel Radcliffe went even further this week in a chat with British GQ, claiming he “became reliant” on alcohol to “enjoy stuff.” (Seriously? That’s a problem now? C’mon, England! You used to be better than this! The corpse of Richard Burton just drained a growler of stout in the time it took me to type this sentence!)