Film

NY Mirror

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It’s high time for some blind items—no, not late-breaking gossip about Ray Charles. I’m talking about those nameless tidbits that leave you slurping, panting, and begging for the answers, all while anonymously posting on some website, “He’s the lowest, most tawdry excuse for a journalist on this or any other planet.”

So ya ready, Miss Hypocrisy Pants? Good: What cartoon creator is supposedly gay friendly? (Make that very gay friendly: A few years ago, he hired a hustler for six months, and not to do animation, either.) Which breakup was apparently partly fueled by a little nose candy problem on the part of the lovely lady? What unbelievably minor radio personality once taunted me on the air for being gay but turns out to be a big, duplicitous, chicken-lovin’ flamer to end all flamers? What longtime arty film director does big-budget script doctoring on the side and is lucky he doesn’t get credited? What superstar’s brother went out with a pier queen who developed AIDS, so the brother gave him the dump and the superstar served up a $50,000 check to keep him away and quiet? (And they say she doesn’t support charity.)

What aged socialite-actress feels that the tycoon who bought her mother’s Palm Beach house is a vulgar and tacky excuse for a human? Any arguments? What tireless party boy was once caught getting fucked on all fours in the bathroom at a house party when everyone else had wrapped up their socializing and the hostess was announcing, “Party’s over!”? What music biz manager has a reputation for not showing up for meetings and for being impossible to track down to find out why the fuck he didn’t make it?

What British star, according to someone who ratted to a tabloid, is averagely endowed and performs straightforward missionary-position sex that’s over in 10 boozy minutes? How can I get his number? What art figure has gone gay again, though he apparently never really stopped? What late multi-sexual artist liked girls so young he could have easily been the subject of an Amber Alert? What hideous ’80s rock band lead singer—still trying for a comeback—can almost only do it with girls up the ass (their ass, surprisingly enough)? What cute gay writer has a profile on bigmuscle.com and specifies that he’s “smart, but with a well-developed fantasy shadow side”? (Though one person who took him up on it claims the experience was rather vanilla—picky, picky.) What long-running comic, whose biggest shtick is about his wonderful wife, used to prance around the Continental Baths back in the day (no doubt for role research)? What star, when she got the script for her gala comeback, started putting all kinds of notes in the margins, until her agent said, “What the fuck are you doing? Stop!”?

Strap on your vomit bags

What campaign personality is as gay gay gay as Republicans are anti anti anti? What new-ish restaurant, says an ex-patron, “has caviar that’s really tapioca soaked in a soy vinaigrette, and the owner is so clueless he thinks it tastes like real sturgeon roe. Then again, he probably thinks his nose looks real too”? What ailing legend, despite his public image, is a real dick—and took graft for years, by the way? What slumming actress did a half-naked theater performance, thereby revealing what looked like highly unsettling lipo scars? (Though they may have worked for the part.) What Oscar-winning actor said of that younger Oscar-winning actress, when they performed together a couple of years ago, “I’ve worked with a lot of cunts, but she takes the cake!”? What Tony winner is pretty agreeable when “on,” but when it comes to mere human interaction, she really takes the cake? (Though others swear she’s a doll—no, really.) What actor, thought to have dropped out of that diminishing role, was actually let go for not being up to it?

What anchor has a taste for the dark meat? What ’80s game show host has a taste for the tranny meat? What young star of that hit series for the kids was so carefree until recently that he was actually spotted at the Roosterfish gay bar in Venice Beach, California, when the show had already begun airing? What power broker has a new boyfriend, which is probably OK with the power broker’s wife, a fag hag hall of famer? What ’80s teen star works the autograph circuit, posing nude for old men for $50 so he can nab his next batch of crack?

You’ll never believe this whopper

What star’s daughter called Mama to say, “Are you watching me on my show tonight?” only to have Mama say, “What show? Oh, I have to go out to dinner, but I guess I’ll tape it”? Which beloved club survivor will never tire of telling the story about the amputee who tried to fuck him with his stump? (And Lord knows, I’ll never tire of hearing it!) What married TV star in her mid-thirties has repeatedly gone lesbo with someone I know, to the consternation of the usually open-minded hubby? What two stars of an upcoming retread were blitzed on coke at a party for the movie, the main star groping a woman and elegantly asking, “You’re not gonna let me put it in?” What same actor—married, by the way—once tried to fondle a female friend of mine, who couldn’t believe her thighs and also did not let him put it in? What gay opening-night critic’s official bio vaguely states he’s “single and lives in New York City”? What columnist fulminates against teen single mothers, but doesn’t always blare the fact that she once was one herself? What upcoming revival is CHERRY JONES‘s fabulous new girlfriend in?

What did Sweet Charity co-star ERNIE SABELLA crack to Theater Talk co-host SUSAN HASKINS at a playbill.com party? (Free answer: “I took this job to work with Cy Coleman and Neil Simon. What happened?”) Are we there yet?


LITTER BOX

Interview with the vampires

Carole Shelley in Wicked

Photograph by Joan Marcus

Celebrities are generally delightful, once you push past their pustular publicists and get to them, but a handful of stars have been less than felicitous in their dealings with me—i.e., they’re total dicks and ding-dongs. I could name them—I long to, actually—but let’s keep this week’s blind gimmick going and make it another tortuous guessing game for your devilish delectation.

And so my worst interview encounters through the years have been with: ’70s drag disco star (he taped the interview to throw me off, and didn’t reveal anything anyway); ’70s soul singer (made not one iota of sense); female r&b star (in her drug phase, could barely keep her eyes open or her head off the table); ethnic TV diva (charmless and self-serving); her small-screen mother (kvetched and circled contact sheets all through the interview); ex-supermodel (started screaming demands in the middle of our session); has-been sitcom lady (bristles when you mention the co-star she supposedly has no problem with); pretentious actor who’s played villains and gays (rudely lost interest mid-sentence); black, once nominated actor (ditto); actress’s movie star brother (canceled to hold out for a larger piece, which he never got); young female folk-rock-pop singer (stared into space, mute and helpless without her flack nearby); foreign director (freaked at the one personal question and canceled the whole thing—though we made up); male superstar (“Where are you from? . . . no interviews,” he snarled at a premiere); fab British lady currently on Broadway. (She was my very first interview and boldly said, “You’re not going to go into journalism, are you?” But you were right, CAROLE SHELLEY, you little doll!)


musto@villagevoice.com

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