More than just a number

Ageing is an ugly, unforgiving process. Especially in Hollywood, where the concept of a biological clock has been replaced with a gender-neutral 'fuckability' clock. Past the age of forty, you need Harrison Ford's charisma or Susan Sarandon's voodoo priestess if you want to keep working.

Despite the fickle nature of the entertainment business, there are some stars out there who are happy ageing in the public eye. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be to everybody's taste.

Ironically enough, the Daily Mail has spent the last decade supposedly championing the rights of victimised pensioners. They pay too much council tax, they're intimidated by hoodies, they innocently shoot fleeing teenagers in the back with a shotgun. But give the editorial staff of the Mail a picture of an ageing celebrity enjoying themselves and suddenly they're happy-slapping the old folks like it's buy-one-get-one-free on ASBOs.

Christmas day is supposed to be a time for kind thoughts, family togetherness and goodwill to all mankind. Sadly, not for William Shatner, who found himself on the receiving end of a barrage of insults, because he still bothers to exercise at the age of 78.

According to the Mail, "William Shatner's waistline that has a warp factor. The Star Trek actor looked decidedly rotund as he strolled along the beach in a large pair of red swim shorts." Amazing, William Shatner is no longer the same shape he was forty five years ago. Is anyone?

Today, it was Paul Hogan's turn. He was also on the beach with his wife, looking happy(ish), relaxed and active. In a 'stop-the-presses' demonstration of the power of journalism, the Mail reports "Hogan revealed a slight paunch in his bermuda shorts".

He's seventy. We should be happy he's able to dress himself unaided. Again, the headline "From Crocodile Dundee to old croc: Age finally catches up with Paul Hogan at 70" suggests we should be surprised, and maybe a little disgusted, that these people age and deteriorate like the rest of us.

Maybe this is all research for the next time the Mail launches a campaign advocating for greater respect for the nation's elderly. In order to understand the problems afflicting our society, this represents an extensive investigation into the psychology of bullying. By attempting to uncover the fear that younger generations have towards the elderly, the Mail's output is manifesting itself in aggression and name-calling.

Or maybe I'm old enough to know better?

Cameron's blue period

Well, James Cameron finally delivered his gigantic blue baby, and it looks as though he'll get to keep the roof over his head. With a budget of around $300 million, everyone knew that Avatar was a big gamble - Cameron has even deferred his own profit participation options until the investors have recouped their contributions. But with the news that Avatar has claimed its second consecutive week as box office champion, with only a 2.6% drop (compared with the industry average of 40-50%), it's clear that Cameron knows what his fans want.

If you haven't seen it already I do recommend you seek out the biggest screen you can find and immerse yourself in a truly incredible 3D experience. The world of Pandora springs to vivid life, even though at times there's so much neon on display you'd think the characters were stuck inside an Essex nightclub.

As for the story (which I've dubbed Last of the Bluehicans since Dances With Smurfs was already taken), well, it does what all good science fiction should do, taking contemporary issues and exploring them in a fantastical way. More specifically Avatar addresses the conflict between technologically advanced invaders and primitive indigenous people.

Rather predictably, not everyone's so happy with Cameron's kick-ass comeback. Over on Big Hollywood, the right-wing movie blog for the mentally malnourished, critics are lining up to condemn Big Jim's opus for "being a "big, dull, America-Hating, PC Revenge Fantasy". You see, they don't like the idea of the military being portrayed as aggressors (an argument so ironic it makes my head hurt). Likewise, they think it's propaganda to question the ethics of genocidal imperialism.

And don't even get them started on the environmental concerns, as conservative hate-bucket Ann Coulter once said: "God gave us the earth. We have dominion over the plants, the animals, the trees. God said, 'Earth is yours. Take it. Rape it. It's yours.'"

Cameron has never denied the fact that Avatar is a parable, claiming "what this film ultimately does is hold a mirror to our own blighted history, where we have a culturally advanced civilization supplanting more “primitive” civilizations... And this country we’re in now was taken from its indigenous owners. And it’s kind of owning up to our own human history."

That's not how they see it over at Big Hollywood though. Taking it in turns to miss more points than a blind tennis player, these professional movie critics make inane comments like "Why couldn’t Cameron have left his agenda at home and crafted a non-political story in which Americans could be heroes..." I guess Carl Kozlowski missed the point that it's an injured US marine who heroically leads the Na'vi into battle. Or maybe he just didn't like the idea that the lead was played by an Australian.

Ultimately though, it's fascinating that all of these rhetoric-spouting imbeciles see the film as anti-American. They're seeing all the worst elements of human nature - greed, violence, aggression - and thinking "Yep, that represents me." More worringly, they're proud of the fact. But then, it's clear that Cameron was never going to win over someone who believes "Cameron’s... tribe is boringly perfect and insufferably noble … I wanted to wipe them out."

The funny thing is, I don't remember the same arguments erupting 26 years ago when another visionary science fiction film-maker told a similar story. Even though die-hard Star Wars fans hated the Ewoks, no-one looked at Return of the Jedi and said "Why does everyone insist on seeing the Empire as the bad guys?" I guess that's progress for you.

Clueless about death

Following the sudden, shocking death of Brittany Murphy, it's nice to see that certain customary traditions have been observed.

First off, the celebrity community has taken to Twitter en masse to express its heartfelt and meaningful condolences, in 140 characters or less. Amongst them, Brittany's ex Ashton Kutcher, who must have inadvertently raised the hopes of countless thousands of people when he tweeted "See you on the other side kid.”

Meanwhile, the press did their bit and upheld another long-standing tradition - turning uninformed conjecture, idol gossip and speculation into news.

Otherwise respected news source NBC claimed that 'what many people who knew the actress noticed most was her recent severe weight loss.“She looked painfully thin, even sick. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in who knows how long, her skin was terrible,” said one person who observed Murphy in recent weeks'. That certainly sounds like expert testimony to me.

The Daily Mail, however, prefers the drugs angle - presumably because it's easier to blame on somebody. Even though the article's four writers admit that 'LA chief coroner Ed Winter, insisted that Miss Murphy's death was not caused by drugs', they tellingly refer to a 'Huge haul of prescription drugs' in the headline of the article. Of course, they could have used the word medication instead, but that wouldn't have been nearly as salacious.

Finally, there are the conspiracy theorists who are finding spooky significance in the fact that Brittany's most recent DVD Deadline has a cover that depicts the actress slumped unconscious in a bathtub - not too dissimilar from the circumstances in which her body was found. Needless to say, the DVD has been pulled and some poor art-worker will be clocking up the hours over Christmas to come up with a less poignant alternative.

It's true that 2009 has claimed a number of people before their time. But the sad truth is that their passing is just as random, pointless and inexplicable as when it happens to us mere mortals.

Death comes without reason or explanation. So rather than scrutinising your tea leaves or booking seats in the audience for Derek Acorah's next seance, enjoy your loved ones while they're here.

Merry Christmas everyone.

George wants back in the Big house

You've got to feel a little bit sorry for Boy George this Christmas - he had only one wish this year and now a nasty old judge has taken it, and the £200,000 fee, away.

In case you hadn't realised, or the aversion therapy was working, Celebrity Big Brother returns next week, for one last attempt at capturing a full blown career meltdown from 13 different angles.

As before, some of the housemates will test the very definition of the word 'celebrity'. Others will attempt to project an aura of untouchability by talking about the genuinely famous people in their address book - even if they only met them because they happened to shampoo their Lhasa Apso.

Sadly though, it looks as though Boy George won't be amongst them. The problem is, he's still in a spot of bother after handcuffing a Norwegian rent boy to the wall (which is a shame because that sounds like it would make a great shopping task in week two). More importantly, the Probation Service doesn't like the idea of George making a fortune while he's still technically serving part of his sentence.

Having reviewed George's appeal (sorry, too easy), the Judge commented: "...an offender serving the non-custodial part of a sentence of imprisonment should not be allowed to take part in a high profile, controversial television production, promoting his status as a celebrity and with considerable financial gain."

I think it's also important that George stop promoting his status as 'Boy'. George, you're 48 - that makes you about as much of a boy as Jeanette Krankie.

I'm sure George is sitting somewhere, wearing a ridiculous hat and licking his wounds, wondering about what might have been. It's funny though, after a four month custodial sentence, I would have thought the last thing he'd want is another three weeks of imprisonment, being scrutinised around the clock and made to suffer a series of humiliating indignities. Like sharing a bathroom with Tina Malone.

But then I guess it's like Red always said, after a while you become institutionalised. And if fame takes less than fifteen minutes, maybe institutionalisation can happen even quicker.

Mission: Impossible

It looks like three successful outings as superspy Ethan Hunt have started to rub off on Tom Cruise. Don't worry, he's not hanging around in the IT room or wearing prosthetic masks that miraculously make him a foot taller. But he has been embracing some tried and tested spying techniques, and they may be getting him into hot water.

Back at the start of the decade, Tom found himself once again battling accusations that he'd done more than just star in a few good men. This time however, there was supposedly filmed evidence of Tom making all the right moves with another guy.

This sensational revelation came about because Michael Davis Sapir, the one-time editor of Bold magazine, had offered a $500,000 reward offer for "videotape evidence that Cruise was gay." I guess the volleyball scenes in Top Gun were inadmissible.

Tom responded with a preposterous $100 million defamation suit, which ended up settled out of court when Bold published an official statement that no such video was in its possession (here's where legal thriller fans make a note of the difference between existence and possession).

With another troubling accusation firmly locked back in the closet, Tom was free to break Oprah's furniture, laugh maniacally and criticise Brooke Shields for having post-natal depression. But this is one story that's come back to bite him in the ass, and not in a good way (you know, like if a real live lady did it).

It turns out that, as well as hitting Bold with a lawsuit that would net enough money to dig Dubai out of debt, Tom wanted to know what else the magazine's staff had got on him. According to a new lawsuit that has been filed against Cruise, Anthony Pellicano, former "PI to the stars" and currently serving time in federal prison, was promptly contracted to wiretap Sapir's phone. So now Tom's being sued for $5 million for "invasion of privacy, disclosure of confidential information and intentional infliction of emotional distress."

Tom's heavy-hitting lawyer Bert Fields has already responded, saying “We did not even hire Pellicano to work on the Sapir case.” In the end, it's not really for us to speculate who did what and to whom - that's for the courts to decide. Although it's interesting that one of Pellicano's favourite new business techniques was to plant damaging stories himself about the stars he wanted on his books. Maybe he was the one who shopped Tom to Bold in the first place?

One thing's for sure though, it must be hard for poor old Tom to know who he can really trust. Apart from the Thetans of course.

Ain't nothin' goin' on but the rental

Next time you're in Blockbuster, or you're choosing something on Sky Box Office, keep in mind what your film selection says about you. If you're watching Brokeback Mountain it could mean you're gay, if you go for Love, Actually it might indicate that you're a woman, and if you prefer Big Momma's House it might mean you require an in-home carer and plastic cutlery.

Actually, that's not true at all. Despite studios' squeamishness over releasing gay-themed titles to a mainstream (i.e. mostly straight) audience, most people are happy enough watching whatever they like, without any fear that their selections might disclose a little too much personal information.

Actually, that's not true at all either. It turns out that an "in-the-closet lesbian mother" is suing online movie rental service Netflix, for publishing personal data concerning her film preferences that might indicate her fondness for flannel.

To cut a long (and astonishingly complicated) story short, this controversy all came about when Netflix attempted to find a way to improve its recommendation system. It works a little like the one on Amazon. You know the type - customers who bought 'Lark Rise to Candleford' also bought 'The House of Eliott' DVD boxset, the 'Alan Titchmarsh Potting Shed Calendar' and a ten-pack of Tena Plus Odour Control Incontinence Pants.

But in order to make the system more effective, they made available the viewing data of 480,000 Netflix customers as part of a competition to find someone who could design a better recommendation algorithm (told you it was complicated). The problem is, this same information was the sort of stuff that Netflix had promised to keep private.

Apparently, this precious data included such incendiary information as rental titles, genres, dates and viewer ratings. And the 'closeted' plaintiff is concerned that these hugely telling details could lead to her being publicly outed. As the lawsuit puts it: “were her sexual orientation public knowledge, it would negatively affect her ability to pursue her livelihood and support her family and would hinder her and her children’s ability to live peaceful lives.” These would be the same children who've already been subjected to repeat viewings of 'Personal Best', 'The Hunger' and 'Showgirls'. Haven't they suffered enough?

According to the lawsuit, it's a classic case of guilt by association - "The member’s movie data exposes a Netflix member’s personal interest and/or struggles with various highly personal issues, including sexuality, mental illness, recovery from alcoholism, and victimization from incest, physical abuse, domestic violence, adultery, and rape."

This utterly illogical conclusion suggests that, based on this year's big box office winners, we've all found ourselves stuck in a love triangle between a moody vampire and a buff werewolf, attacked by skyscraper-sized robots, and forced to live out the rest of our days in the body of a nine-foot tall blue cat. Hooray for Hollywood eh?

Smell you later

Have you been into a Perfume Shop recently? It's like reading the index page of OK! Magazine - major and minor celebrities battling for supremacy on the shelves, in a cacophony of gaudy packaging. Celebrity fragrances are big business these days. You're nobody until you've got your name on a tacky bottle that looks like a zirconia-encrusted spleen.

Although she didn't invent the concept of celebrity fragrances, Elizabeth Taylor was definitely a pioneer, if only in terms of proving what a fantastic money maker they could be. Since launching Passion back in 1988, Liz has conjured up ten other best-selling nose-botherers, each one said to reflect her "famously indomitable spirit".

Regrettably, not all the celebrity fragrances that followed could boast such legendary heritage. Jade Goody, Katie Price and Colleen Rooney have all achieved huge sales from their personal brand of stink.

It's tempting to assume that the main reason for their success was that they had little or nothing to do with the creation of the scent itself. After all, who'd want a perfume that actually made them smell like Kerry Katona? Kebab meat, special brew and desperation is a pungent combination.

Speaking of unpleasant smells, Sarah Jessica Parker is planning another assault on your olfactory senses, having already given the world Lovely and Covet. This time around she's planning something a little unconventional, rather than the usual floral and vanilla notes you might expect.

In a recent interview, the long-faced shoe fetishist claimed: "It has taken me three years to decide on the scent because I really like BO and I think it's sexy. I wanted to figure out a way to make it palatable to everybody. I was like, 'How do you get BO in a bottle and make an atomizer of it?' Then it was all about trying to capture the sense of naughtiness in a bottle that it would be good for a man and a woman."

There you go - BO in a bottle. Because nothing says delicate romance and feminine sensuality like the stench of an amateur football team's locker room. Thanks to SJP, women all over the world will bathe, moisturise and get all dressed up, only to spritz themselves with the scent of three-day old gym shorts.

I suppose it could be worse. After all, it's only a month ago that Sarah was telling Elle Magazine that one her favourite smells in the world is a dirty nappy: “I love the smell of diapers; I even like when they’re wet and you smell them all warm like a baked good." If that's what she thinks cakes ought to smell like, she really needs to find herself a new patissiere. And maybe lay off the chocolate frosting.

Eat your greens, before they eat you

"I see dead people."
"We all go a little mad sometimes."
"When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the Earth."

Let's face it, the horror genre has given us some memorable quotes over the years. But the BBC's big-budget spooker Day of the Triffids, has what may well become my favourite quote of all time: "Do not enter the orchard without back-up."

OK, so it may mistakenly imply that there's a bushel of apples brandishing a flick-knife waiting for our intrepid heroine, but it still manages to evoke the timeless essence of John Wyndham's classic tale - when vegetables attack.



Wyndham's story of sinister salad has already been filmed twice - as a 1962 movie starring Howard Keel, and a BBC series in 1981. Both adaptations were hampered by less-than-stellar special effects, which is presumably why the BBC has decided to invest heavily in this new version.

They've also managed to rope in some major A-list talent, including Dougray Scott, Vanessa Redgrave and Eddie Izzard, who will hopefully be convincing enough to distract the audience from the implausibilities of the story. As a result, the clips that have been released so far certainly look the business, with impressive visuals, moody lighting, and lots of shots featuring creeping tendrils of doom.

If the intention was to make the mini-series look like a Hollywood movie, the producers should be congratulated - particularly for the way they've managed to show the cataclysmic meteor shower, that blinds most of humanity, occurring over every major landmark around the world. Independence Day, Armageddon, The Day After Tomorrow - they've all proven that, if you want your audience to understand that there's a global threat, you can cover it off in about three seconds using stock footage of the pyramids and the Eiffel Tower.

It makes a pleasant change for the BBC to be spending their holiday schedule money on a genre title, rather than yet another re-do of Jane Austen - there are only so many consumptive women of 'reduced circumstances' I can stand over the Christmas break. Apocalyptic meteor showers and a revenge attack by your five-a-day may not seem particularly festive, but at least it might help frustrated parents finally coerce their stubborn children into eating their sprouts.

TMI*

If you're ever tempted to take a long look at your life and you find yourself wondering where it all went so wrong, here's an instant feel-good solution.



Trust me, it works everytime.

Courtney Love has never been a role model of exemplary parenting - having clearly graduated from the Candy Spelling/Kerry Katona school of motherhood. But this week, things went from bad to worse, as Frances Bean had herself successfully emancipated from Courtney so that she could live with her grandmother Wendy O'Connor.

The legal decision to make O'Connor the girl's temporary guardian was hardly surprising, given that Courtney's struggle with sobriety is almost as troubling as her ongoing battle with cosmetics - too much, too often, always ends up a mess.

What surprised more people was the fact that, as a response to the ruling, Love decided to take the opportunity to condemn her own daughter on Facebook. The posts may have been removed, but quick thinking bloggers managed to capture the juiciest nuggets of Courtney's free-form ranting. For example: "[Frances] thinks she has all this money, [but] the point is I have all the money she has ... I don't care really, I hate to sound cold, but any kid of mine who pulls this shit has lost her position."

When Facebook and Twitter first came along to capture the public's imagination, the world was thrilled at the prospect of more direct interaction with its favourite celebrities. Real-time updates, the chance to feedback, and a 'follow me' option that wouldn't necessarily end up with a restraining order - what's not to love?

But I wonder how fans of Courtney Love (assuming such creatures exist) must feel when they see the object of their affection ranting about her own daughter on a public forum. It's like the drunk girl at the party who insists on taking her top off. No-one's encouraging her, and they secretly feel mortified for her, but they can't help but watch to see what might happen next.

*Too Much Information

Predicting the future

They say imitation in the sincerest form of flattery. Still, I can't imagine that the producers of US sci-fi mystery show FlashForward will be feeling too proud of the fact that British teen soap Hollyoaks is planning a 'flash forward' of its own. Hollyoaks is, after all, a show that makes Emmerdale look like The Wire.

In fact, the only glimmer of hope from all this, is that the tribute may restimulate the audience's rapidly fading interest in the one-time smash hit series. When FlashForward first aired, its hot cast of familiar faces and write-it-on-a-post-it high concept plotline saw audiences flocking to the show. With fan favourite Lost just one series away from ending, viewers were crying out for a new mysterious sci-fi epic to help them through the Sawyer and Sayid-free years ahead.

But initial excitement soon faded, as the intriguing premise was overpowered by awful dialogue, dodgy special effects, and the erratic pace of a cardiology monitor. By the time we were introduced to the least convincing lesbian since Lindsay Lohan, audiences had already lost the will to tune in.

But that hasn't stopped the producers of Hollyoaks declaring their intention to steal FlashForward's central premise, and apply it to the Chester massive. By taking a look at its characters' lives six months down the road, Hollyoaks claims it will be making "UK soap history when when it becomes the first serial drama to break the time continuum."

Perhaps the show's makers have forgotten how often the genre has seen characters pop up to their bedroom or visit relatives in Canada, only to return a decade older, with a completely different face. Soap opera characters tamper with the space time continuum more often than Doc Brown.

The justification for this flight of fictional fantasy is the fact that, according to series producer Lucy Allan, "Hollyoaks is the only soap that can tamper with time and give our audience the opportunity to look at events that haven't yet taken place." She has a point, since most of Hollyoaks primary audience consists of hungover twentysomethings who only watch it because it enables them to focus long enough for the room to stop spinning. That and the fact that its cast are marginally more appealing to look at than what's lying in the U-bend. They wouldn't notice if the show's characters were suddenly replaced with crude cartoons scribbled onto an ironing board.

Ultimately, if they want to give viewers an insight into what's happening six months down the road, I can save them the time and effort. One character will be on Dancing On Ice, one will be on Celebrity Big Brother, one will be preparing to go into the jungle, one will be training for Strictly Come Dancing, and the rest will be trying to drunkenly hail a cab outside Mahiki.