NY Mirror

It's a whole new world since 9-11—a place of caring, awareness, and deeply reconsidered values. But anyway, my predictions for this year's Oscar Nominations are:

Best Picture: The Lord of the Rings'(because everyone in the movie biz was a nerd once—like two minutes ago), In the Bedroom (a return to bedroom-sink drama), A Beautiful Mind (the story of a lovable paranoid-schizo prick who exposes himself—in the book, anyway), Moulin Rouge(as subtle as KhmerRouge, but it saved viewers a lot of drug money), Black Hawk Down(a/k/a Saving Ryan's Privates).

Runner-up: Mulholland Drive(Hollywood thinks of it as a TV reject—maybe because it wasa TV reject).

Best Actor: Denzel Washingtonfor Training Day(only he could turn a borderline-tawdry genre film into a cult classic), Russell Crowefor A Beautiful Mind(for saying the movie's fraudulence is a favor to gays), Will Smithfor Ali(a/k/a Schlocky II), Tom Wilkinsonfor In the Bedroom(it's time to forgive that Jackie Chan flick), Gene Hackmanfor The Royal Tenenbaums(comedy is Hollywood's bastard child, but if this one doesn't get the nod, it'll be a bitch).

Also-rans: Billy Bob Thorntonfor The Man Who Wasn't There(his brand of generous, self-effacing acting doesn't rate in Oscar's book), Sean Pennfor I Am Sam(on the other hand, this kind of thing screams nomination—so Oscar screams back, "Fuck you!"), Benjamin Brattfor Piñero(though the chance to see his ex, Julia, present him with a trophy would be the ultimate trash-TV moment).

Best Actress: Nicole Kidmanfor The Others(herex must be gagging, even though he produced it), Sissy Spacekfor In the Bedroom(if you loved her as a coal miner's daughter, you'll adore her as a lobster fisherman's wife), Judi Denchfor Iris(a grand Dame plus Alzheimer's equals award consideration), Halle Berryfor Monster's Ball(so convincing, and not just because there's a car accident), Naomi Wattsin Mulholland Drive(it's not herfault Hollywood doesn't care much for the movie).

Also-rans: Audrey Tautoufor Amélie, Renée Zellweger for Bridget Jones's Diary, Tilda Swintonfor The Deep End—the French, the wench, and the next Judi Dench.

Best Supporting Actor: Ben Kingsleyfor Sexy Beast(Gandhi-lightful), Steve Buscemifor Ghost World(Fargo-go-go, Steve!), Jim Broadbentfor Iris(the flick would be flopsy-turvy without him), Jon Voightfor Ali(because people still find his daughter h-o-t), Ian McKellenfor The Lord of the Rings(he'd do great on 47th Street or even QVC).

Best Supporting Actress: Kate Winsletfor Iris(it's time to forgive Titanic), Jennifer Connellyfor A Beautiful Mind(the nomination she didn't get for The Rocketeer), Helen Mirrenfor Gosford Park(a classy Brit who knows how to get down with her bad self), Maggie Smithfor Gosford Park(ditto, honey), Marisa Tomeifor In the Bedroom(proving once and for all that last time wasn't a mistake).

But don't listen to me, folks—I'm wrong! By the way, the real nominations will be announced on February 12. My TV's set on E! through then—and even after then.

In other Oscar news, if it's true that Miramax bad-mouthed A Beautiful Mindas a whitewash, I find that hilarious, since they're the ones who took all that gay content out of 54(a/k/a A Beautiful Behind). But now, the columns say that DreamWorks, Mind's coproducers, may have started the rumor that Miramax started the rumor against the film—are you following me, people?

As for those flashy, trashy Golden Globes, it's no rumor that just when they'd started to gain some credibility, they came up with that wacky category that pitted Stanley Tucci's performance in some Holocaust movie against Jack from Will & Grace. Even worse, Tucci won!

Wacky Nazis figure in the dialogue of Todd Solondz's Storytelling, his most you'll-either-love-it-or-hate-it flick of all and not the kind of thing that wins Oscars. (At least with Happiness, you had the pedophile to root for). At a Man Ray party for the film, Solondz was deep in talk with Selma Blair, whose Storytellingcharacter has sex with a crippled boyfriend and screams racial epithets on command when her black teacher shtups her from behind. She seemed nice, but Solondz was covering his face and saying "It's late!" Is this his most subversive movie yet? "I love that question," he replied, "and you say it with such a straight face. You are so amusing. [pause] Selma will give you a great sound bite." I obediently turned to the actress, batting my luxurious lashes, but she cutely talked about how she shouldn't talk. "My publicist is so mad at me about today's roundtable," she said. "I'm always so afraid I'm not gonna amuse someone that I make an ass of myself. I'm gonna take a vow to never speak again!" Finally, a premiere as nutsy-cuckoo as the movie it celebrates.

I have my own vow: After judging the open auditions for The Puppetry of the Penis, I never want to see a dick again. Maybe. The event was the saddest, sickest, funnest thing ever, a parade of golden trophies in search of awards. Eleven game contestants lined up naked onstage, ready to flip their ding-dongs around into stunts from the Windsurfer to the Loch Ness Monster (which are eerily similar, actually). The Hamburger—a bulbous schlong sandwich—is particularly hard to look at, but Puppetrycostar Simon Morleyadmiringly said of one guy's attempt, "You've got a facile set of nuts on you!" It was even harder to resist the jokester who stuck a candle in his piece and set in on fire, a stunt not even found in Puppetry. "If you spin that round and round," called out Morley's costar, David Friend, "you can actually do the Catherine Wheel." Hey, let's not and say we did.

And now, let me spin a few gossip tales, some involving genital tricks, some not: Several women from recent versions of The Real Worldwill be baring it all in Playboy. That's tooreal. . . . Meanwhile, Graydon Carteris not a playboy. He was acting chummy with Gina Gershonat Da Silvano recently, but he later explained that he was comforting her over the death of a friend. . . . Covenant House is coming back from the dead and being turned into a gay boutique hotel. It sort of always wasone. . . . Party-thrower extraordinaire Susanne Bartschis also enjoying a rebirth. The Swiss Ms. will be doing monthly fests at a Times Square club, starting with a Rufus Wainwright/Zaldy event on Valentine's Day. . . . Less festively, I'm hearing rumors that Backstreet Boy Kevin Richardsonis having marital problems. Tell me why-eee. . . . Speaking of exes, Domicile has something called Molly's Salad on the menu. Pourquoi? "Because I used to be Molly Simms's fiancée," the owner explained to me. Apparently, she likes a facile set of walnuts. . . . Delightfully twisting the biz by the balls, acidic writer Bruce Wagner was feted at Chateau (the old Moomba) by Post scribes Chris Wilsonand Jared Stern. Wagner's hopes for the Oscars? "I'd love John Nashto go onstage and have a total collapse," he told me. "Screaming like a banshee, falling on top of Brian Grazer, vomiting, and talking in tongues." No, dear, that'll be Russell Crowe.

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