I have no idea whether ol’ F. Scott’s famous quote about the rich applies to the famous, or the rich, but that’s sure what you get from a cursory glance around the filmsphere this oddly muggy SoCal afternoon.
* Kim Masters contemplates the impact of Mel Gibson’s personal mishegas on his bankability. The upshot is the guy’s got chutzpah, even if his behavior is a shanda.
* Johnny Depp hangs out on his Jolly Roger-flying yacht off of a private Caribbean island, drinks daiquiris and gets written about for Vanity Fair by his buddy before heading off for his next film. Must stink to be him.
* Per Nikki Finke, father and on-again Robin Wright husband Sean Penn is taking a year off to work on his marriage. If my dad had taken a year off, for any reason, my mom would’ve either divorced him instantly or checked into an asylum.
* I’m not sure if Judd Apatow is “very famous,” or merely famous for a producer/writer/director/non-actor, but he tells VF he would like to come back as a beloved dog. I’d prefer to be an admired cat. See how different we are? Not even the same species.
* And, suddenly, I’m in the mood for a little Celebrity Jeopardy. After all, they’re just like us; just more famous.
