At the Garden of Ono party for the compact fashion mag The Daily Mini, I kept wittily screaming, “Show me the Mini!” Sure enough, I got one and was even handed a Mini ha-ha by one of the mag’s writers: “In school, guess what they’re gonna call SHILOH PITT? Piloh Shit.”
Piles of shitake were served at the Tao dinner for Ocean Drive‘s New York issue—if we can keep the incestuous glossy talk going—where I cornered one of my co-hosts, MAER ROSHAN, to ask about the rumored re-relaunch of his now-you-see-it Radar. “Re-re-re,” he corrected. “Sounds like an ARETHA FRANKLIN song,” I quipped. “It feels like an Aretha Franklin song,” he said. “We’re hopeful that it will happen.” Me too—and not only because I want another kill fee.
When I went home and re-re-relaunched my computer, I found that a publicist had pitched me the ickiest piloh caca for this esteemed publication: “ JARED LETO made the embarrassing comment about being gay as a goose . . . and has caused quite the speculation in blog-land. The actor surfaced and was incognito at [Manhattan hot spot] the other night. He was flirting up a storm with several beautiful models, and when the Led Zeppelin love song came on, he jumped up to dance and girate [sic] to show that he still gets excited for the ladies.” Oh, that’s reassuring, isn’t it? I’m thrilled he can so publicly get over his horrible “embarrassment.” I guess the song wasn’t “Stairway to Kevin.” (By the way, the publicist handles the hot spot, not Leto, so don’t hold it against him—though he’s not exactly a hero for sticking to his quote, then gurgling, “Kidding.” The whole thing makes me want to shower.)
And here comes another dispiriting case of someone retracting his love for all things Judy Garland. Remember Stonewall, the queers-versus-cops incident that launched the modern gay movement? Well, every single homosexual of a certain age claims to have been part of that historic scene, making for a weird mixture of pioneers and bullshit artists sitting on various Gay Pride floats every year. And now, according to the Veterans of Stonewall’s WARREN ALLEN SMITH, one of that group’s longtime bright lights—Stephen vanCline—has finally revealed that he wasn’t at Stonewall after all! The guy now says that he’s actually straight but pretended to be gay to research a novel, and by the way his name isn’t really Stephen vanCline. Otherwise, he’s totally on the up-and-up.
Design for living
MARC JACOBS is still gay, but he’s not with JASON PRESTON anymore. Preston, you’ll recall, is the comely lad who’s dabbled in escort work and who looks eerily similar to the co-star of Barebackin’ Boyfriends 2. Just recently, he gave HX an interview gushing about Jacobs, the glamorous life they lead, and their distaste for other gays. But Jacobs tells Pride magazine that their relationship is now more over than pashmina shawls. “I wanted things to be a certain way, and it’s just not working,” he said, sadly. “I wanted him to be there when I wanted him to be there. I have to be in bed at 11:30 and he’s 25 and wants to go to clubs every night. . . . I adore him. But do I want to control him? No.” Besides, said Jacobs, the fling was affecting his work ethic (“My head was somewhere else”). Whether it affected his image and his relationship with his backers I’ll never know. (My friends actually think it helped.) In any case, Preston should probably now consult JOHNNY “Wino Forever” DEPP about how to rewrite a huge tattoo of your ex-lover’s name. (Update: Hold everything! The tattoo stays! Preston just told me they’re back together!)
Still a team, old-time lounge performers KIKI & HERB survived the Battle of Shiloh (the Civil War tussle, not the fight for the baby photos) and even disco, and now they get the mockumentary treatment in Kiki & Herb Reloaded, a satisfyingly sick flick that played NewFest last week. (Yes, I pop up in the film; I was practically the PARKER POSEY of the whole festival.) The wizened purveyors of boozy bluesy uncork their souls before your very eyes, with Kiki ( JUSTIN BOND) emitting gems like “I always said if you weren’t molested as a child, you must have been an ugly kid” and “The saddest day of my life was the day John Hinckley missed.”
Someone who only shoots with a camera—writer-director JAMES TOBACK—gets profiled in NICHOLAS JARECKI‘s documentary The Outsider, a quirky tribute to Toback’s ultra-personal, testosterone-laden filmmaking. At last week’s private screening Toback said he liked the flick right back, telling me, “There isn’t anything embarrassing in it except me.” “He gave me one of my first breaks [in Harvard Man] and I failed miserably,” the event’s similarly self-deprecating host, Entourage‘s ADRIAN GRENIER, said to me. “I guess this is an interview?” he blurted. “You’re writing down what I say—or maybe you’re just obsessive-compulsive.” “Both,” I said, eyes twinkling. “I don’t get too political,” Grenier decided, smiling. “I like everyone!” Even on Election Day? “I usually vote for the wildest candidate,” he admitted. “I voted for NADER a few times. But wait—actors are not supposed to talk about politics and religion!” I didn’t realize those were two different things.
Drive, he said
I saw one more documentary—Who Killed the Electric Car?—and was relieved to find it doesn’t have LARRY THE CABLE GUY as the voice of the tow truck. The movie is CHRIS PAINE‘s earnest look at the eco-friendly EV1 and how corporate greed made it more obsolete than edible panties. “You made me cry over a car!” said a woman, punching Paine’s shoulder after the movie showed at Sundance.
Perfectly enough,MICHAEL MOORE agreed to host the special screening at Sony last week, noting, “I guess they figured I know something about General Motors.” While he was there, I wanted to know more about Sicko, Moore’s upcoming documentary about the horrors of H&M, I mean HMOs. It’s not that easy to categorize, it turns out. “I’ve had problems in describing every one of my films,” Moore told me. “With Roger & Me, what could you say? It’s a film about a dying auto town? ‘Gee, can’t wait to see that on a Friday night!’ And Bowling for Columbine—is it about guns or something else? This film [Sicko] is about health insurance companies and pharmaceuticals, but it’ll be something other than that too. It’s a comedy about 45 million people who don’t have health insurance!” Or maybe about the ones that do but forgot to get a referral.
A comedy about 45 million presenters without a host, the Tony Awards brought out a dizzying array of thespians, lesbians, and drama queens, all singing, “I don’t want to show off no more” while turning emotional cartwheels. My chronological thoughts, while sitting in the media room:
8 p.m. Show People magazine is bye-bye, the Promenade is supposedly being turned into a Sephora mall, and this telecast might get lower ratings than public access, but I’m sticking with the theater. It’s in my blood, darlings. 8:07 The mother in Well is basically Woman in Chair. She’s fine, but it’s obviously going to be the Brits’ big night. History Boys‘ regal FRANCES DE LA TOUR beats her and backstage reveals that her castmates cutely call her J.Lo. It’s dry irony like that that’s making it the Brits’ night.
8:39 Wait, hold on to your Playbills. It’s shaping up as the Canadians’ night. I can deal; these Canucks are way more nutty and fun than CÉLINE DION and shouldn’t be deported just yet. 9:29 The multi-sexy Threepenny Opera scene could even turn that fake Stonewall guy gay. By the way, CYNDI LAUPER told the syndicated Radio With a Twist (heard on WPLJ) that Lourdes Ciccone came backstage to visit daddyCARLOS LEON recently, but she’s not allowed to see the show. Because it’s so racy, not because it’s so misguided.
9:45 Trophy-nabbing Jersey boy CHRISTIAN HOFF is sobbing onstage. So much for “Big Girls Don’t Cry.” He explains in the press room, “I had a rocky divorce with my first wife.” We could probably all use a nice pint of “Sherry” right now. 9:51 The best 60 seconds of the whole night is the commercial for Dreamgirls! I’m gagging! 9:58 CYNTHIA NIXON kisses her girlfriend. Yay! She didn’t put her in a rabbit hole! 10:45 Like that other Jersey boy, JOHN LLOYD YOUNG is tearing up while talking about his parents’ journey. With all this touching talk of disease, divorce, and struggle, these aren’t speeches, they’re psychotherapy sessions. You can thank OPRAH. Who has turned into KATHLEEN TURNER, by the way.
10:49 LACHANZE has her own personal pain—her husband died on 9-11. She’ll be flooded with congrats on the award, plus one pasty blonde calling her “a witch and a harpie.” 10:58 The hoity-toity choices gave way to the feel-good winners. (Pajama Game over Sweeney Todd? Excuse me?) But this has definitely been the gays’ big night. Gay History Boys, gay JOHN DOYLE, gay Man in Chair, gay Cynthia Nixon, gay BOY GEORGE impersonator, gay LISA KRON, gay Miss Celie, gay puppet. No, hold on. Jersey Boys wins Best Musical. A show about straight people. But they sing falsetto.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on June 6, 2006