Gossip Central

Candace Bushnell Dares to Ask: Is There Still Sex in the City?

The night before the HBO series she spawned reincarnated as And Just Like That at MoMA, Candace Bushnell signals, she has moved on. At the Daryl Roth Theater, she struts across a stage fitted with a hot pink couch and shelves lined with Manolos, recounting a stellar career as columnist, coming from Connecticut, modest suitcase in hand, sleeping around. This “having sex like a man” becomes material, and quite explicit. If you are a fan of Sex & the City, you know what I mean. Miraculously, in her tour de force hour and a half one-woman show—with the exception of a cameo by two dogs, the words “penis” and “vagina” are uttered once each, as Bushnell poses the question, Is There Still Sex in the City? Phone in hand, she converses with her Samantha, her Miranda, and her Charlotte, paragons of wisdom, as she navigates her rise as writer, all the while dumped by lovers including her ballet dancer husband. The men she mentions do not fare well—even her supportive father somehow lets her know her flat chest will get her nowhere in love. An exception is Darren Star, the series showrunner who attended the opening. I caught up with him over a gargantuan urn of guacamole at the Rosa Mexicana afterparty where a Covid test was now the new condom: “Yes, she got it right. She’s honest about Sex & the City and how we got it made. She would not have invited me if she was going to trash me.”

Downton Abbey: A New Era: Celebrating with Julian Fellowes

Downton Abbey: A New Era hit the spot! The swell of music, a wedding, I was swept into fandom from the start, at times teary, at other times swooning, and laughing out
loud. Writer Julian Fellowes, brilliant at creating romance, never forgets the real estate. Downton is a place, a grand house where The Granthams, now family to me and millions of followers, have arrived at modernity, a delicious lapse between the two wars, and just before the Depression. Happy endings abound as the family braces itself for a surprise or two. Granny, the Dowager Countess—the always remarkable Maggie Smith—has inherited a villa in Toulon, in the South of France, from a former lover, allowing some of the Granthams to head to the beach to check out the joint, yet another palatial home. That leaves Downton to be managed by Lady Mary, the stern, lovely Michelle Dockery, as a film crew arrives at the dawn of talkies. Yes, it’s a little Singin’ in the Rain, turning a story we love into a larger story we love.

Only a grand premiere will do, an opera house for the grandest soap opera of the last decade: Lincoln Center’s Metropolitan Opera was fitted with a movie screen for the occasion followed by a grand dinner at Tavern on the Green, allowing Fellowes to hold court in the garden. The head of two events, he was greeted by the casts of not only the Downton movie, but HBO’s The Gilded Age, a thematically related series of New York wealth and class--featuring the fine mansions along Madison. Dockery, Laura Carmichael, Elizabeth McGovern, Hugh Dancy with his wife Claire Danes, Christine Baranski, Debra Monk, Louisa Jacobson (her mom is Meryl Streep), all stopped by his table.

Ben Foster in The Survivor: The Camps Never Leave You

HBO launches its movie, The Survivor, with a lavish premiere just in time for Holocaust Remembrance Day. Barry Levinson’s latest stars Ben Foster as boxer Harry Haft, Auschwitz survivor and refugee. 

As Auschwitz stories go, Harry Haft’s exceeds the norm. Grasping his world in the camps and beyond in Brooklyn, Ben Foster, in the performance of the year, gets Haft --as boxer and as nightmare-ridden refugee-- in Barry Levinson’s adaptation of son Alan Haft’s book, The Survivor. Told in two-time frames, The Survivor pares down Haft’s experience: the Holocaust period in black & white when he is made to entertain the Nazis using his skill as a boxer. Nazi officer Dietrich Schneider puts him in the ring fighting fellow prisoners to their death. If you thought Billy Magnussen was “bad” in the recent James Bond movie, here he brings his super-bad game, “owning Haft,” as it were. In color, survivor Haft fights in the rings of Coney Island, fighting even Rocky Marciano, with one goal shaping his American existence. That is, to find Leah (Dar Zuzovsky), his love from before the war.

Picture Raging Bull meets The Pawnbroker. Imagine the violence, the searing impression of the blood oozing out of the fighters—with Haft so gaunt, so spent, you cannot even think of his having body fluids in his vividly depicted post-war visions, triggered even on his honeymoon when he marries Miriam, Vicky Krieps in a tender role. They go on as survivors do, having three kids, managing the past as best they can—singing “God Bless America” in Yiddish.

Oscars So Real in 2022: No Offense Intended

Despite a contretemps at the Oscars—a slap seen round the world—the ceremony and awards proceeded as expected, apace, with favorites winning all around. When Will Smith accepted his Best Actor award, he tearfully mentioned defending family, as his character Richard Williams did coaching his daughters Venus and Serena to top tennis honors. Of course, Smith had just hit Chris Rock for a dumb, inconsiderate joke about his wife Jada Pinkett Smith, mumbled while Smith’s expletives were bleeped out. The morning after, many are thinking his tearful Oscar acceptance speech is not sufficient to brush aside his behavior. 

Last year’s Best Actor, Anthony Hopkins, present this year after missing the 2021 Academy Awards; so sure he would not win, he stayed home in Wales. Smith was the favorite for his prize as were the best supporting actors, Ariana DeBose and Troy Kotsur. Jessica Chastain, awarded for Best Actress for her role as televangelist Tammy Faye spoke about being seen. The Oscars –spreading the love-- made sure many were both seen and heard. CODA –the smaller film that could—about a young hearing woman coming into her own in a deaf family--took top honors.

Lady Gaga’s Passion at the New York Film Critics Circle Dinner at Tao

Brought to tears in telling the tale of her immigrant ancestry, Lady Gaga thanked the New York Film Critics Circle for recognizing her for Best Actress for her performance in House of Gucci. Big on heart, she was grateful to everyone from director Ridley Scott to her hairdresser and makeup artist, but mainly, she cited her matrilineage of strong Italian women who taught her to be bold and fearless, in a family that featured lots of shouting. Sorry, mom, she shouted out to her platinum haired mother seated at her table at Tao, the meatpacking Asian-themed restaurant and longtime venue for this annual—except for the Covid years--event. 

She was not the only awardee crying with emotion. Jane Campion, the NYFCC’s pick for Best Director, her citation given by Martin Scorsese, spoke of an early turn around in her career when the movie Sweetie, which many critics did not like, got a second wind after the New York Times critic Vincent Canby wrote favorably about it and changed the “trajectory of my career.” Back in the day, Susan Sontag took her to tea. Nothing if not edgy, Campion’s Power of the Dog is frontrunner for the Best Picture Oscar, but Drive My Car, from Japan, got that honor with the New York critics.

Celebrating Guild Hall at Cipriani 42 Street

Many revelers at this week’s Guild Hall winter gala remembered that before Covid locked everyone down, they were celebrating the premiere East Hampton cultural institution at its 2020 annual gala. And while much has changed in these two years—the venue was now the cavernous Cipriani 42^nd Street—and, the 2022 honorees were Board Chair Marty Cohen and Michele Cohen without the customary Academy of the Arts recipients—the mood was exuberant, as this huge, yet intimate event of East End neighbors chatting, catching up has not lost any of its warmth. Academy president Eric Fishl recalled that in that pre-pandemic limbo, no one knew whether to fist or elbow bump but preferred to kick one another in the ankles. All these dressed up people kicking the s__t out of each other, he laughed.

Renee Zellweger in The Thing About Pam at the Whitby Hotel

Her spindly legs over sky high heels, Renee Zellweger, both star and a producer on NBC’s series The Thing About Pam, commanded the stage at the Whitby Hotel this week after a screening of the first two episodes of the 6-part series. Based on a true-life crime podcast, already well known, about a 2011 murder in small-town Troy, Missouri, The Thing About Pam is so tongue-in-cheek, you have to laugh at the shenanigans of bungling law enforcement and grieving citizens, as a beloved wife and mom—and daughter—is found dead of multiple knife wounds in her living room. The two-time Academy Award winning actress plays Pam, hardly recognizable with her pudgy face and physique, her legs like elephant trunks, who slurps endlessly on a giant sugary beverage further sweetened with cherry syrup. The camera can’t get enough of her fat face and squinty eyes as she figures out her next shady moves.

Oscar Picks 2022

Fair is fair. Choosing among the pleasures of this year’s best movies could not have been easy. Awards, particularly the Oscar voters’ choices announced this morning, reflect a nuanced vision: I am especially heartened by the nods to two of my favorite actresses, Jessica Chastain and Penelope Cruz in two outstanding of this year’s films: The Eyes of Tammy Faye and Parallel Mothers respectively. Will they win, over the work of Oscar winners Olivia Colman and Nicole Kidman? They can. And Kristen Stewart for Spencer, a movie that many people simply did not love—her fine performance as Diana deserves a category all its own.

Bridget Everett Stars in HBO’s Somebody Somewhere: The Heart of Manhattan, Kansas

First aware of Bridget Everett as a mother in Patti Cake$, an indie hit of 2017, I met her on two occasions: she was a flamboyant speaker at the Nantucket Film Festival that year receiving an award. Trust me, you never want to follow her onstage. Second, at the Athena Film Festival, she attended with her pal Murray Hill, so named for the Manhattan, NYC neighborhood. Both make a big impression, HUGE, and now you can see for yourself as Everett stars in an HBO series, Somebody Somewhere, with Hill in a supporting role, directed by Robert Cohen and Jay Duplass. So full of heart, I would say, the series is a gift for Valentine’s Day.

Rural America is a foreign country to me, but Manhattan, Kansas is both strange and ironic given that you cannot imagine a place more remote from Manhattan, New York, ground zero for misfits seeking personal expression. And guess what, looks like Bridget Everett feels the same way. She’s from there, and as Executive Producer of the series featuring autobiographical details from her life, she’s crafted this location, and at least fictionally, finds a voice there. Manhattan, Kansas is to Bridget Everett as Baltimore is to John Waters.

Drive My Car: An Oscar Game Changer from Japan

Life moves slowly. Loss. Grief. So much happens in Drive My Car, Japan’s entry for the Best International Film Academy Award, it is amazing that the movie is only two and a half hours long. That it has been named Best Film by the venerable NY and LA Film Critics can make you think, Parasite all over again, but that Best Picture Oscar winner from Korea is action-packed, a satiric bloody nightmare romp, while the longeuers of Drive My Car drive home deeper, more difficult truths, and how we process them. An acclaimed theater director (Hidetoshi Nishijima) loses his beautiful wife. Two years into his grief, he takes a job directing Uncle Vanya in Hiroshima. A young woman (Toko Miura) from a remote mountain town Hokkaido, dour, her face expressing oceans of sadness, chauffeurs him around in his red Saab. Producing Chekhov in Japan may represent one aspect of multi-culturalism, but the players speak many languages, including sign. And perhaps most poignantly, it takes more than translation to make inner lives connect.

Steven Spielberg’s West Side Story: Get Ready to Rumble

You will not have to ask, do we need yet another adaptation of this classic? With Leonard Bernstein’s music and Stephen Sondheim’s lyrics firmly implanted in your head, a memory of the 1961 Jerome Robbins’ choreography and Arthur Laurents’ book, prepare to be delightfully shocked at how much this new version of West Side Story feels new. Maybe it’s Tony Kushner’s masterful script that takes us first into an image of urban renewal, the ‘hood, a battleground for the Sharks and Jets, being right here in Hell’s Kitchen cum Lincoln Center (shot on a lot in Paterson, New Jersey), and the wisdom we bring knowing the future: everything must change.

But come back to that era: to the cars and shops declaring poverty, ethnicity, the warehouses, crumbling buildings—the boys styled like mid-century heroes, a bit of Marlon Brando and Jack Kerouac. Enter the sweet-faced Polack Tony for Anton (Ansel Elgort) and the Latina ingenue Maria (newcomer Rachel Zegler). Justin Peck updates the original choreography without upsetting Robbins’ vision. And then there’s Rita Moreno, the Oscar-awarded Anita in 1961, now near 90 and getting ready to be celebrated at the Museum of the Moving Image. A widow, perhaps an oracle to the young, as Valentina, Moreno bridges past and present: Spielberg has her singing “Somewhere,” and your heart aches.