Support independent journalism, free from the trades and other publications that are part of the tinsel town machine.
For 12 years, Showbiz411.com has been covering Hollywood, Broadway, the music business and the business of celebrity. Ads are our main source of funding, but contributions (not tax exempt) from readers who enjoy the scoops, exclusives, and fact based reports are always welcome and very appreciated. To inquire about ads, email us at showbiz411@gmail.com.
On ESPN tonight, Spike Lee summed by the NBA finals after the Knicks scored a one point come from behind victory over the Spurs.
Spike told ESPN: “The cat’s in the bag, and the bag is in the river.”
More than 50 A list celebrities ponied up big bucks to be at the game tonight besides Spike. They included Taylor Swift, who cured the Knicks and MSG of Donald Trump’s evil spell from Monday night. Others included stalwarts Ben Stiller and Timothee Chalamet, Mariska Hargitay, Julianne Moore, and Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David.
The full list is below.
Go Knicks! What an insane and historic ending to any NBA game in history. And history will be ours on Saturday!
I actually stopped counting how many different editions of “The Boys of Dungeon Lane” for which I received offers.
There were LPs of all colors, all limited editions, plus some that came from small batches. Mind you, colored vinyl is not really playable, neither are picture discs.
But diehard fans of Paul McCartney want them all as collectibles. It’s the new craze.
Marketing people dealing with older rock stars are learning from Taylor Swift. She makes a bundle from bundles of vinyl also in all colors with different features.
Now the Rolling Stones are ramping up for “Foreign Tongues.” I’m not allowed to post a review until June 16th, but the album — produced by Andrew Watt, like McCartney’s — is stellar in every way. If the Grammys were real, they’d each be nominated for Album of the Year.
The Stones will have a hit, I predict, with the single, “Mr. Charm.”
“Foreign Tongues” is coming in a variety of limited editions. The Stones have partnered with Marvel and with FIFA.
The double Marvel LPs feature Spider Man, Wolverine, Captain America,The Hulk, and Thor!
The FiFA World Cup versions are actually pretty cool.
Me? I’m happy with black vinyl and a regular CD. But everyone else, enjoy! You can find them all at www.rollingstonesshop.com
Despite controversy around changes at the venerable “60 Minutes” news show, longtime correspondent Lesley Stahl, divine in shimmering red sequins, hosting the Literacy Partners dinner this week, stayed on message: fewer Americans than you think can read. Yes, viewers of the iconic “60 Minutes” program were mainly senior citizens, and yes, the controversy over firings vs. freedom of speech has driven up interest, but overall, the name Scott Pelley did not come up, nor did the name Bari Weiss. So much for truth to power.
As for politics, another message: readers tend to vote. So maybe that’s a sly nod to Stahl’s needing to address this issue in front of a crowd that included Sheila Nevins, Joni Evans, and some reporters from the NYTimes. The main name dropped was the one that mattered most, Literacy Partners founder Liz Smith—who did not suffer fools gladly, who did not take shit.
Beloved, the “natural blond” was evoked by every featured speaker, among them best-selling author Patricia Cornwell, awarded for Lifetime Achievement, Sherrie Westin, noted as “Champion of Literacy” for her work as President of Sesame Workshop, Sabastian Niles, awarded for Leadership in Literacy and Barbara Tober, a famed “publishing maven,” and editor-in-chief of BRIDES Magazine, honored recipient of the “Lizzie Award,” named for our dear Liz Smith. Presenters included Daphne Merkin, Perri Peltz, Lesley Stahl, and Mike Steib.
Several young people helped by this organization made impassioned speeches about how being able to read changed their lives, as diners supped on filet of beef. But if you think the biggest controversy is the co-opting of news media as in “60 Minutes,” maybe the more startling news is how threatening literacy must be in places where power wants complete control.
“What was Big Bird doing in Afghanistan?” asked Perri Peltz introducing Sherrie Westin. How do you know that a reading citizenry is a big threat: See Operation Big Bird, when the Taliban went after Sesame Street.
Literacy Partners hosted its 2026 Evening of Readings & Gala Dinner at Pier Sixty, Chelsea Piers, bringing together New York’s literary, philanthropic, civic and business leaders for a festive black-tie evening celebrating the power of literacy to change lives, which also marked the 40th anniversary of the gala, first held in 1986, by its founder, Liz Smith.
Last night’s event raised a stunning $1.3m to support life-changing literacy programs.
They really got their lifetime achievement awards right.
Eight time nominee Glenn Close, and three time nominee director Ridley Scott really deserve these awards.
Close, many feel, should have won for “The Wife” a few years ago. Scott could have won for any number of films but especially “The Martian.” They each have long lists of credits of the most top notch films in Academy history but for one reason another never won. They will get thunderous ovations at the Governors Awards dinner in November.
Congrats to both of them.
Also honored is Floyd Norman, animator with a 65 year career at Disney. In 1956, Norman became the studio’s first Black animator. His first Disney feature film was “Sleeping Beauty,” and he contributed to such classic feature films as “The Sword in the Stone,” “Mary Poppins,” “The Jungle Book” and “Robin Hood,” as well as the short films “Donald in Mathmagic Land,” “Goliath II” and “Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree.” Norman’s other notable film credits include “The Hunchback of Notre Dame,” “Mulan,” “Toy Story 2” and “Monsters, Inc.”
The Irving G. Thalberg Memorial Award is going to prolific and popular producers Christine Vachon and Pamela Koffler. Vachon and Koffler founded the New York-based independent production company Killer Films in 1995. Together, they have produced a huge amount of the most respected independent films and championed such directors as Todd Haynes and Paul Schrader. They’ve given Julianne Moore a home to mix commercials films with experimental ones.
“The Last Ship” has docked at the Metropolitan Opera for just nine performances.
Sting’s Broadway musical, with a Tony nominated score, opened last night for nine performances in a triumphant return, its first since 2015. It’s not an opera, but it’s staged like one, with a breathtaking production worthy of any large scale offering at the famed venue. It’s so effective you actually think there’s a ship parked on stage.
“The Last Ship,” of course, is the rock star’s memoir of his childhood in Newcastle, England, under the shadow of the fading shipbuilding business. Wallsend, the neighborhood where he was born, struggles in a transition from a lifetime devoted to the production of sea worthy vessels to a new world.
Since we saw “The Last Ship” on Broadway, it’s been through some changes. Plot and characters have been tweaked, and even the music has been refreshed. Don’t worry, the great songs from the original production have survived, but there’s been some reworking and some new material as well so that the lives in a community desperately trying to hold on to its values is vividly brought to life.
The story is still about Gideon Fletcher, who returns to Wallsend after 17 years to discover he has a daughter, and that his difficult father has died. Meg, the fiery, independent girl he loved — and mother of said child — now owns the local pub.
Sting himself returns in the now-central character of Jackie White, the longtime foreman of the shipyard who’s fighting a potential closure as the final ship, the Utopia, must be completed. Labor vs. management takes a more prominent position vs. the Gideon-Meg relationship, and Jackie’s wife, Peg (a commanding Annette McLaughlin) emerges in a much more fleshed out role.
Of course, Sting is the chief attraction, with his tirelessly rich performance making Jackie a speaker for everyone in Wallsend. There’s nothing like Sting’s distinctive, soaring, butterscotch voice, which has aged like fine Italian wine he makes near Florence, Italy. He’s written a score that he’s sung and recorded solo as well as with this fine group of singers. The songs are lush and eminently hummable. Still at the top of my list are “What Say You, Meg?”, “The Night the Pugilist Learned How to Dance,” and the majestic title number — a show stopper of classic proportions — that you can’t get out of your head.
There’s some nifty valued added to this production with the appearance of reggae star, Shaggy, who often records and appears with Sting in pop circumstances. A charming presence, Shaggy also shows off a sugary theater voice no one expects unless you’ve heard his recording of Sinatra hits. He’s turned into a welcome Greek chorus of one. I have to single out another performer, Cassiopeia Berkeley-Agyepong, who plays a local politician with a classical voice that soars through the hall.
And then there’s the knockout production, from 59 Studio. A spectacular mix of video and physical installations make the stage brilliantly urgent. For a long time it feels like the majestic Utopia is parked on the Met stage in all its gleaming glory. There’s soldering syncopated to Rob Mathes’s lush orchestrations and sizzling lighting direction that becomes its own character.
After kind of a dreary Broadway season, we should thank Sting and co, for bringing “The Last Ship” to us on this scale, and in this hallowed theater. The show has already had a successful tour through Amsterdam, Paris, and Brisbane, and now we get a chance to revel in it ourselves.
Last night was the opening so, of course, the audience was filled with celebrities from Little Steven Van Zandt and wife Maureen, to famed Motown songwriter Valerie Simpson, actress Patricia Clarkson, Jane Seymour, Bob Odenkirk, Spike Lee, Michael Imperioli, Angela Bassett, Lena Hall, Gina Gershon, famed rock promoter Ron Delsener, and Sting’s two actress daughters Mickey and Kate Sumner.
There aren’t many tickets left for the remaining shows though the weekend, but if you can find one you’ll be luckier for it.
“Disclosure Day” had a great premiere last night at Lincoln Center’s David Koch Theater.
Universal went all out, taking over the Plaza and building a huge complex for media.
Is there an after party, I asked the young lady who handed me my tickets?
“No,” she said. “There is no after party.”
When the movie was over — it was very good — several people I knew asked me, “Will I see you at the party?”
Of course, I said ‘yes.’ Among Hollywood people, always say ‘yes.’
We followed them outside and around the media structure to Lincoln Restaurant, a glass enclosed architectural wonder. It was already packed with guests, and a line formed at the door.
The producer of the movie came along on this very breezy, comfortable night. I said, “There seems to be a party.”
She replied, “There is no party. Steven’s just having a few friends over.”
I said, “There are two hundred and fifty people in that restaurant.”
She repeated, “There is no party.” Her husband, an amiable man, looked confused. He said, shrugging, “I don’t know. I’m not in your business. I’m a doctor.”
My brother, who was my companion for the night, spotted a friend who has a fairly substantial role in the film. They shook hands and there were congratulations.
We asked, “Are you going to the party?” The friend replied, “I’m not invited but I’m sure I’ll get in.”
A couple of hours later, the friend left a voicemail for my brother. “I couldn’t get in. They said no.”
By this time, I was famished. And the Knicks were playing. So I ambled over to PJ Clarke’s, got the one empty seat at the crowded bar, and had a chicken pot pie on the advice of two young women who told me they were working on a Broadway musical.
In short order, the actor Paul Dano, wearing a red cap, wandered in and we started talking. The party — which wasn’t taking place — was too much for him. “It was very hot in there. I wanted to see the game.”
On Wednesday, Paul Dano is moderating a Q&A, he told me, for Julian Schnabel’s new movie, “In the Hand of Dante,” at the Tribeca Film Festival. (You may recall my review of “Dante” from the winter.) God willing, I will be at home, on a couch, watching the Knicks come back from Trump sleeping through last night’s game in person and jinxing them.
Several more people from the non party came through the door. One of them was my friend, Bob Gazzale, who runs the American Film Institute in Los Angeles, with his wife. They also escaped the heat and “a very crowded restaurant” that was too much for them, as well. Soon, PJ Clarke’s was filled with people who felt the same way.
As for the actor who couldn’t talk his way into an after party for a movie he is seen in a lot, life will go on. As for the producer who insisted there was no party as we stood in front of it, all I could think of was Lynda Obst’s famous book title, “Hello, He Lied.”
Steven Spielberg may not have intended this, but he’s given us the third part of the unofficial trilogy that started with “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” and crested with “ET The Extraterrestrial.”
He gets members of his old gang back together for “Disclosure Day,” a movie I didn’t know I needed until I saw it. Spielberg brings in David Koepp for a screenplay based on his own story. John Williams, age 92, wrote the score, Janusz Kaminski has the cinematography. All heavy hitters, and each comes through cementing their reputations.
You must remember that Spielberg first captivated us with space aliens 49 years ago with “Close Encounters,” then five years later with “ET.” These were enormously popular and culture changing films. Although he went on to all kinds of successes back on Earth, he’s very associated with this genre.
The point of “Disclosure Day” is that for 79 years the government has hidden the truth about UFOs and aliens from us, and now a rogue researcher (Josh O’Connor) is going to blow the whistle. He works for a good guy (Colman Domingo) and is pursued by a bad one (Colin Firth in a great role. Josh’s Dr. Kellner also has a pretty curious girlfriend, played by the accomplished Eve Hewson (daughter of Bono).
On a parallel track comes Emily Blunt, who does the weather at a local station (all of this takes place in Spielberg’s innocent Americana, the bread basket of Illinois, Kansas, Indiana). Blunt’s Margaret lives with Jackson (Wyatt Russell, son of Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell), in Dallas, always feeling like she should be someplace else.
In the short order these people will collide. While Dr. Kellner is racing to tell the world we are not alone, Margaret — we learn in a bit — had an alien encounter as a child. Now, in present day, she starts experiencing symptoms of that meeting that surface in her speaking in tongues and being able to inhabit other people’s brains.
Meantime, while Domingo’s Hugo is trying to expedite the reveal of the government secrets, Firth’s Scanlon is trying to stop it — although he has his own sci fi powers similar to the empaths in “Minority Report.”
Spielberg and Koepp make a twisty tale of all threads proceeding in various adventures toward the inevitable moment when the principals will meet and compare notes. All these threads are action packed, edge of your seat, with some set pieces — including a fight in which the good guys are invisible — that should win editing awards for Sarah Broshar.
For a while, through two acts let’s say, Spielberg keeps up the action and moves everything forward enough so you know you’re in a really good, fascinating movie. But where is the heart? It comes thanks to Blunt’s power of mind reading (for lack of a better term) faces of deceased loved ones from the memories of strangers. Suddenly, the film is no longer about aliens or reveals, but people. And the stakes get much higher.
All the actors are top notch, of course. O’Connor is an excellent guide and Domingo and Firth are such stars we’ll believe anything they say or do. But this movie belongs to Emily Blunt. She’s got an Oscar nomination in here for making all of this plausible. Already recognized as a gifted actress, Blunt carries “Disclosure Day” to its startling climax and conclusion.
There are lots of Easter eggs, by the way. One is a direct reference to “ET,” which is not a retread but a reminder. Also, I think there’s a motel with a certain name just to reference “Indiana Jones.” Someone who’s really studied the film will make a list. There’s kind of a nod to “Poltergeist,” as well.
I sat in the theater last night in the 2nd balcony next to the esteemed New York Times writer Ralph Blumenthal. He wrote a famous 2017 article about UFO’s that he surmises triggered the idea for Spielberg. Indeed, on stage Spielberg cited the same year the story was published — 2017 — for when he began work. At first Blumenthal, a serious guy, felt some of the movie was silly. But by the time we got to the end, he was won over.
We don’t really know about UFOs and aliens being covered up by the government. Many will dismiss the idea, and they’ll be countered by people who claim to have had first person experiences. I hear them often on an overnight radio show called “Coast to Coast.” John Lennon is one of many celebrities — the late Maurice White of Earth Wind & Fire fame also — who claimed to have seen something.
One brilliant episode of “Twin Peaks” — in its third season — lays out a theory that the atomic bomb triggered the universe.
None of this matters. To make an effective, soulful movie, it has to be about characters — what they want, their backstories, and so on. The real core of “Disclosure Day” is that warm center, which works like a charm. And that’s where Blunt — and Hewson and O’Connor — nail this movie for keeps.
PS Kudos to the artist and CGI people. Some animals created by them make memorable appearances, particularly a red fox, a cute bird, and some yearning deer who seem to know more about what’s going on than the humans!
One more thing: early social media response was that this was “Spielberg’s best movie in 20 years,” which seemed like a backhanded compliment. “War Horse,” “Lincoln,” and “Bridge of Spies” works of art that will be studied and written about for a long time. (The only one I didn’t get was “The BFG.”) “Disclosure Day” goes in a top 10 all time of the director’s work.
Good news: Donald Trump’s name has been pried off the Kennedy Center. It’s not on the building or website per a court order.
The bad news: because Trump was shutting the Center down for two years beginning July 7th, they have bookings beyond that date. No musicals, no National Symphony Orchestra. The opera company has already left.
The biggest remaining event is the Mark Twain Prize taping set for June 28th. Bill Maher is the recipient.
Among his guests will be canceled comic Louis CK. Louis CK became a pariah after many women accused him of sexual malfeasance. But it’s no surprise he’s a pal of Maher. Thirty five years ago, Maher told Entertainment Weekly he pleasured himself before each taping of “Politically Incorrect.”
That’s what we’re dealing with.
Other guests include John Mellencamp, Jay Leno, and Whitney Cummings.
Last year’s Mark Twain Prize show for Conan O’Brien was full of comics who eviscerated Donald Trump. But this year should be tame in that regard. Leno is a moderate Republican. He won’t say a word against Trump. Cummings might. Mellencamp is a question mark.
Another guest is Stephen A. Smith, one of the few celebrities I actually loathe. He goes back and forth criticizing and defending Trump.
It doesn’t sound like a lot of fun, frankly.
Netflix will the show a couple of weeks after the taping.
No surprise: the Songwriters Hall of Fame, set for Thursday, is sold out.
The annual event at the Marriott Marquis Hotel in Times Square, is always popular.
But this year, publicity magnet Taylor Swift is coming and will perform a song — maybe her new “Toy Story 5” hit.
Others will sing her songs. The room will be buzzing.
But even after all these years, no one knows exactly why or what is going on.
According to its form 990, the Songwriter Hall of Fame has $8 million in assets.
But there is no actual Songwriters Hall of Fame. It just exists on paper. There’s no building, and no permanent installation at, say, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
The SHOF lists one employee, Linda Moran, who runs the show for $200,000 a year. She was hired in 2001 and never left. Her directive is to organize the annual awards show by courting record companies and music publishers to buy seats for the dinner.
It’s not like the group is donating money or creating music scholarships of any note, either. According to that form 990, they gave away $90,000 last year — although that was an improvement from $65,000 in 2024. (It’s unclear where even that money goes. Unlike other charities and foundations, the SHOF doesn’t list its donees.)
(Full disclosure: I was on the nominating committee many years ago. But they tossed me because they didn’t like having a journalist around, too many secrets and all that.)
By the end of this week, the SHOF will have more than $12 million banked, and still no stated goal for what they’re doing with it — even after 25 years.
Hey — with all those seats at the Garden, maybe Moran and co. will get wedding invitations. It’s the least Taylor can do. Her induction is the fastest in Hall history.
Madonna’s ten minute video preview of her album is out.
“Confessions II” is a little seXXXy kinda from the late 80s.
We do get to see what “Ozark” actress Julia Garner would look like playing Madonna in her miniseries. I wish Garner, who’s such a good actress, would move on to more important stuff already.
Anyway, here it is, for better or worse. It does seem like these are bits of other videos that we’ll see down the line.