Celebrity news & gossip from the world’s showbiz and glamour magazines (OK!, Hello, National Enquirer and more). We read them so you don’t have to, picking the best bits from the showbiz world’s maw and spitting it back at them. Expect lots of sarcasm.
DOUGLAS Gordon’s version of Psycho last 24 hours. Alfred Hitchcock’s classic film also inspired Chris Bors to adapt the movie. He compacted the action into 24 seconds:
24 Second Psycho appropriates the entire Alfred Hitchcock moviePsycho and condenses it into twenty-four seconds. Tweaking the concept of artist Douglas Gordons 24 Hour Psycho, where Hitchcocks masterpiece was slowed-down to a crawl, here the process is reversed to accommodate society’s increasingly short attention span. Seeing Hitchcocks most lasting contribution to cinema flash before your eyes in a matter of seconds represents our new information age where culture is packaged for easy consumption at a breakneck pace.
But could the film be show faster? Yes. All hail Joe Frese’s Sixty Second Psycho:
Maybe it can all be surmised in an 11-second gif?
MOVIE Barcode compresses all the frames of a movie into a single picture. Can you tell the films apart? Yes. If you look hard enough what at first appeared specious, gets to be intriguing. Those aren’t swatches of 1970s raffia wallpaper. Those are films.
BACK in 1984, Morrissey worked as a record reviewer on Smash Hits to review the week’s singles. Was he full of praise, saluting the singers’ guts, with plus points for effort and likability? Not quite. Pass the caustic soda. And get a him a gun to shoot Status Quo:
PEOPLE who sneer at shows like The X Factor and The Voice often wonder how singers of the past would fare. Would Screamin’ Jay Hawkins get Simon Cowell’s approval? Would someone like Nina Simone stand a chance against Olly Murs if it all went to deadlock?
The fact of the matter is, no-one should really care because the 60s were a completely different time where record companies had loads of money to take loads of chances and, most importantly, X Factor is to music what WWE is to sport – it’s just telly!
Either way, over in the States, The Voice USA have made a video where John Lennon and Bob Dylan appear… and you know something? It’s funny than 99% of the jibes spat out by detractors!
WHEN actresses explode, aka Exploding Actresses is brilliant:
HOW do you write a blues song? Like this:
CAN a child’s work ruin the adult’s career?
Dennis Waterman did not let a boyhood advertising Rowntree’s Fruit Gums hold him back from a successful TV career. Little Dennis sang:
Don’t forget my fruit gums, Mum,
I just love those fruit gums, Mum,
Thruppence buys a tube of fruit gums,
Gums that last all day.
Bring me home some fruit gums, Mum,
All my pals love fruit gums, Mum,
Rowntree’s fruit gums last the longest,
That’s why we all say:
They’re smashing! They’re Rowntree’s!
The young Dakota Fanning shilled for Tide, dribbling food down her pink dress. She too would go on to achieve showbiz fame.
A past promoting the GAF Viewmaster did Jodie Foster no harm. She went on to become an A-list Hollywood stalwart.
So there is hope, then, for the child seen eating dog poo in the above advert created for Bristol Council. We could be looking at the next Lindsay Lohan…
HAVING seen The People set the global news agenda with its scoop on Charles Saatchi and Nigella Lawson rowing in public, the Sun continues to play catch-up. In today’s update the paper announces “Nigella’s row with Saatchi ‘27 mins’” and reports the words of the photographer who recorded the action:
The cameraman, known only as Jean-Paul, said: “What I saw was 27 minutes of madness. That’s how long the abuse lasted. It is disgusting that people think the assault on Nigella was so short. It was shocking. The first time her head jolted backwards really got me.”
“He’s a big man and this would have hurt Nigella immensely.”
The Banana Splits beat The Beatles and the Despicable Me Minions to No 1 in the Top Ten Banana Songs of all Time
TO promote the film Despicable Me 2, the Minions are singing the Banana Song. It’s fun. But it’s not as good as the ultimate banana song.
PAGE 3 stunna and make-over TV hostess Melinda Messenger tells Spirit & Destiny magazine:
“I’m studying for a degree in transpersonal psychotherapy, which is therapy with an emphasis on the spiritual aspects of the human experience… I want to do community work in some form or other, and I’ve got a real desire to open a little tea shop and be a foster mum, and maybe even write.
“I’ve been spiritually aware from around the age of seven, when I saw my brothers pouring boiling water on to an ants’ nest.”
Melinda Messneger presents Cowboy Builders on Channel 5.
THERE is something of the Bangkok LadyBoy about Miley Cyrus, formerly the world’s biggest-ever teenage star. Not so much the face of the future or the now, Cyrus is the reminder that trying to escape a hyper-controlled past can be tricky for your future career. In these 10 Gifs from her new song We Can’t Stop, Cyrus approximates sex appeal and kookiness without ever coming close to nailing either. She slices off her fingers, frots a massive teddy bear, twerks, engages in a spot of lipstick lesbian, rubs a slice of white bread over her face and smooches a Barbie doll. Naturally, in this check box approach to outrageous pop antics, she alludes to drugs use. In courting controversy, Cyrus manages to come across as remarkable uncontroversial, overly contrived and conservative. Still, at least she’s having fun. Beats working:
OK! has an update on the wedding of pneumatic bum cream modelTamara Ecclestone — daughter of F1 supremo and 1960s action figure Bernie. As previously recorded, Tamara has decamped from her £45 million Kensington house with walk-in birkin museum and crystal bath to marry a Jay Rutland on the French Riviera.
Details of the £12 million do are emerging.
At the rented out Grand Hotel du Cap-Ferrat, Bernie coughed up for Mariah Carey, Elton John, Mark Ronson and Lionel Richie to provide atmosphere.
All vital information for us to hold dear lest something happens to the TV cook. The tabloids have already been helping the police with their enquiries, The People publishing pictures of Mr Nigella, Charles Saatchi, holding his wife about the throat. He’s now got a police record.
Speaking to the London Evening Standard, Saatchi said:
“Although Nigella made no complaint, I volunteered to go to Charing Cross station and take a police caution after a discussion with my lawyer because I thought it was better than the alternative of this hanging over all of us for months.”
The Sun goes on to look at victims of domestic violence. Loretta Butterworth, whose husband got an 18-month community order for stamping on her, says she “hopes Nigellas know when to walk away”. Tina Nash, who was blinded by her boyfriend (Shane Jenkin was given a life sentence for gouging out her eyes), says women should flee abuseive relationships “before it’s too late”.
The Sun understands. It zoom in on Nigella sat at a cafe table in London’s Mayfair. Should Lawson invade her personal space, the Sun’s man with a long lens will not hesitate to fire at will. He will then report the matter to his editors, who will create a story around the images and publish the lot as the next day’s news. That’s how much the Sun despises domestic abuse. Where ever it is, the Sun’s women protectors will photograph it from range.
In other news, the Independent’s John Walsh appears on his paper’s cover to tell readers:
From charmer to bully: My encounter with Charles Saatchi – I’ve never met a man with such strict views on what music my son should buy
From being rough with a woman to dictating to kids, Saatchi is being undone. Walsh remembers the horror:
It was the King’s Road, Chelsea, about seven years ago. I was in the HMV record store, now sadly extinct. My son, aged 14, was prowling the CD racks; I was down the other end of the store, browsing the (ahem) European arthouse cinema. There I met Nigella, with whom I worked at The Sunday Times years ago. We chatted and she said, “Come and meet Charles”. He was taller than I expected, dark-eyed and watchful, in a white shirt and long black coat – a saturnine figure, who turned his gaze upon a stranger like a cobra eyeing its quaking prey.
A few days ago, Charles Saatchi was an advertising man who collected lots of art. He is now The Hoodle Claw. Walsh gives an example of what he calls bullying:
We ambled to the music section. I introduced my son Max to Nigella’s son Bruno. Each boy was carrying a pile of CDs they were hoping their dads would buy them. Charles took his stepson’s pile and leafed through it. “Mmm… mmm… good,” he murmured, at the boy’s choices. Then, “What’s this?” he said, about a classic rock album from the 1960s. “You’re not having that,” said Saatchi, firmly. “Why live in the past? What’s wrong with modern stuff?” While his stepson tried to protest, Saatchi flicked through my son’s CDs like a Customs official. “Yeah… good… no wait. Why d’you want this?” He held up This Year’s Model by Elvis Costello. “I like Elvis Costello,” said Max. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“I don’t think so,” said Saatchi in a don’t-argue-with-me-voice. “Why d’you want to go back to the old days? Absolutely not.” Max, outraged, looked at me as though to ask, “Is this guy, like, in charge?”
Ah, the poor lambs. They are now cast as hapless victims or an orchestrated, relentless campaign to mock their music tastes. Let’s hope with therapy the devastated victims can escape psychological problems and go on to buy all The Who’s albums on iTunes.
JAMES Gandolfini, star turn in the greatest TV show of all time – that’s The Sopranos – has died. The man who gave flesh and bone to Tony Soprano died in Italy. He was 51.
The Sopranos creator David Chase (see above) pays tribute:
“[James] was a genius. Anyone who saw him even in the smallest of his performances knows that. He is one of the greatest actors of this or any time. A great deal of that genius resided in those sad eyes. I remember telling him many times, ‘You don’t get it. You’re like Mozart.’ There would be silence at the other end of the phone.”
Even the intro was fantastic:
CORRIDORS. Not just any old creepy, long, silent, anxiety-inducing, lonely, crippling, haunted corridors, but eerie, antiseptic, soulless, menacing, echoey, brooding, lugubrious corridors in sci-fi films. Corridors that when you scream no-one can hear you.
Corridors are the places in film that let the dialogue pause and the tensions build. You’d run along though them. If your legs let you.
These are the best corridors in sci-fi:
Code-46 – Michael-Winterbottom (2003)
The Black-Hole – Gary Nelson (1979)
Ikarie XB-1 (1963, Jindřich Polák)
Ridley Scott’s Alien
George Lucas’s THX-1138
Dr. Who and the Daleks (1965, Gordon Flemyng)
Stereo (1969, David Cronenberg)
Saturn 3 (1980, Stanley Donen)
Outland (1981, Peter Hyams)
Equilibrium (2002, Kurt Wimmer)
Alphaville: Une étrange aventure de Lemmy Caution (1965, Jean-Luc Godard)
Titan A.E. (2000, Don Bluth and Gary Goldman)
Forbidden Planet (1956, Fred M. Wilcox)
2010 (1984, Peter Hyams)
Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope (1977, George Lucas)
Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope (1977, George Lucas)
Solyaris (1972, Andrei Tarkovsky)
Event Horizon (1997, Paul W. S. Anderson)
2001: A Space Odyssey (1968, Stanley Kubrick)
Westworld (1973, Michael Crichton)
Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country (1991, Nicholas Meyer)
Robocop (1987, Paul Verhoeven)
Upside Down (2012, Juan Diego Solanas)
Species (1995, Roger Donaldson)
Earth vs. the Flying Saucers (1956, Fred F. Sears)
KANYE West, the hopelessly self-important rapper, says on his new album, Yeezus “get this bitch shaking like Parkinson’s”.
Steve Ford, Chief Executive at Parkinson’s UK, is upset:
“Kanye West has shown an inexcusable level of stupidity and cruelty towards people living with an incurable condition. Life with Parkinson’s is difficult enough without becoming fodder for insensitive celebrities who should know better, looking for their next big hit.
“People with Parkinson’s have to cope with intolerable social discrimination on a daily basis – often to the point where they are afraid to go out in public – and this sort of thoughtless, callous comment can only serve to make things even worse for them.”
A NEW mural painted on a Brixton wall by James Cochran aka Jimmy C shows the image of David Bowie from the cover of his 1973 album Aladdin Sane.
David Robert Jones was Brixton born in 1947.
NEWS that Rupert Murdoch is divorcing Wendi Deng, has yet to reach the media man’s twitter account. There have been rumours – strenuously denied – that an affair lies behind the marital split. The Hollywood Reporter summed up in the headline:
A spokesperson for Tony Blair flatly denied media rumors that Wendi Murdoch is romantically involved with the former British prime minister.
News of Murdoch’s divorce, which made it onto the front pages of other papers, made it onto page 11 of The Sun and rated as marginally less interesting in terms of column inches than recent stories about KT Tunstall, Billy Ray Cyrus and Harold Hamm (no, me either).
TEEN Mom porn star Farrah Abraham has broadcast pictures of her breast enlargement surgery. What she dosen’t know, of course, is that inside her right breast is a reality TV camera crew and outside broadcast truck. Her left breast contains an under-ripe honeydew melon, one of her five-a-day. An expert says that thanks to her new oversized breasts Farrah now looks exactly like a woman with false breasts. Farrah hopes to inspire woman with undersized breasts to look less freakish:
MANY Disney cartoons were made by Rotoscoping? What’s that then? Wikipedia tells us:
“Rotoscoping is an animation technique in which animators trace over footage, frame by frame, for use in live-action and animated films.”
Here are classic Disney characters superimposed onto the actors who played them:
Anorak brings you the Greatest Beauty Pageant Answers Ever. And – remember – no-one likes you if you are cute and smart. Maybe this article shold be entitled The Smartest Beauty Pageant Answers Ever?
BEFORE the Wall came down and the EU came knocking, Polish film posters for American film were handmade. Nowadays, Poles are seduced to Americans films with the usual cocktail of edited quotes from critics and airbrushed photography. But when US publicity material was banned, film posters for Yankee movies were created by artists interpreting the film.
There is no proof that they were more effective in getting punters in to watch the film. But the billboards would have been more beautiful:
He tells the Evening Standard:
“The pictures are horrific but give a far more drastic and violent impression of what took place…
“About a week ago, we were sitting outside a restaurant having an intense debate about the children, and I held Nigella’s neck repeatedly while attempting to emphasise my point. There was no grip, it was a playful tiff. Nigella’s tears were because we both hate arguing, not because she had been hurt. We had made up by the time we were home. The paparazzi were congregated outside our house after the story broke yesterday morning, so I told Nigella to take the kids off till the dust settled.”
The story does not end there. Ever since the Sunday People published the photos, the story has been a cause of chatter. The Sunday Mirror even made a joke of it all, punning that TV cook Nigella was at “BOILING POINT“.
A few days on and vain arsehat Nick Griffin, the BNP’s monocular tosser, who thanks to the democratic experiment has the mandate from 120,139 voters, tweets:
If I had the opportunity to squeeze Nigella Lawson, her throat wouldn’t be my first choice.
The Mirror gets wind of that stupid comment and reports:
Controversial politician makes derogatory sexual comment about celebrity chef
Others would surely prefer to look at the fact that Griffin fancies a Jewish mother of two. (Griffin claimed he fell out with Tyndall over the latter’s policy on Muslims: “Because he hated Jews so much, he thought Muslims couldn’t be all that bad if they didn’t like Jews” – Times)
But let’s not analyse the pillock. Let’s just note that the Mirror made its own joke at a time when it appeared to be alleging that Nigella had been the victim of domestic violence. Classy stuff.
The Express picks up on the story. It thunders: “Outrage as BNP leader Nick Griffin makes sick joke about Nigella Lawson on Twitter”.
This would be the Express whose sister paper the Daily Star once backed the EDL? The Express that asked of Nigella, “So has TV’s yummy cook out a bit too much in her tummy?” Is this the Express whose sister organ, Channel X, is showing this week such right-on films as Angel’s Gutter Girls, Skint Students and St Teenycums Nymphic Games 1? Is that the same Express outraged by “derogatory sexual comment about the celebrity chef?
The Daily Mail once invited us to look at Nigella’s “jumbo knees”. And ITV infamously tweeted: [Nigella Lawson] is “nowhere near as attractive as she thinks she is”.
Be outraged by Nick Griffin. Be more outraged that people actually elected him to be an MEP (one reason to quit the EU, surely, Mr Farage). But if you are going to outraged by sexism, recognise that it’s not only racial bigots who champion it…
GET ready to mock a man who thinks he can talk to the ether. TV psychic Derek Acorah cancelled a show earlier this month due to “unforeseen circumstances”.