Madonna‘s new single is out-”lyric” videos have surfaced on YouTube. And it’s worse than you can imagine. Madonna rehashes 1984 Cyndi Lauper with this lyrics: “Girls they just wanttto have fun.” It’s a recurring line from her new song, “Girls Gone Wild.” Porn instigator Joe Francis is already angry that Madonna has chosen his trademark line for the title of the song. But now the lyrics show that the best Madonna can come up with is a rip off of Cyndi Lauper from three decades ago.
The astonishing thing about this is that Lauper has always been the Madonna also ran–a real musician and composer who’s been overshadowed by her rival since they each started their careers. Madonna is in the Rock Hall; Lauper is not. Lauper writes her own music and has released some of the most underappreciated albums of the last 20 years without a lot of money behind her.
Madonna, who’s made millions and had the record company support, has now stooped to “quoting” Lauper’s signature hit in a lame effort to put out a new song. And this is Madonna’s second single from her unreleased MDNA album in less than a month. This is not a good sign for the new record deal she got with Interscope. Really? Is she really going to sing “Girls, they just want to have some fun?” What’s next? “99 Balloons”?
Madonna Rehashes Cyndi Lauper Song from 1984
Woody Allen — Oscar Winner– Watched NBA All Star Game Instead
One Academy Award winner from Sunday night did not bother himself with the Oscar show. Woody Allen, who last appeared on the Oscars in 2002 to bolster New York after the World Trade Center tragedies, hasn’t bothered with it since. Even though he won Best Original Screenplay for “Midnight in Paris” on Sunday night, his TV was not turned to ABC. His producer sister Letty Aronson told me he was busy watching the NBA All Star Game instead. “He may switch over if I call him before they announce his category,” she said. But otherwise, Woody was was probably more concerned that the East lost to the West. Aronson was denied the chance to accept Woody’s award because it was simply announced from the stage that he wasn’t there and and that was it. Allen last won the Screenplay award in 1987 for “Hannah and her Sisters,” although pretty much of all his screenplays should have Oscars, including “Match Point,” “Bullets over Broadway,” and “Vicki Cristina Barcelona.” His next film, “Nero Fiddles,” set in Rome, should open the Venice Film Festival. I’m told he’s workong on a new screenplay that may be set in New York again. Hallelujah!
The Artist Crowd Takes a 4am Dip to Celebrate Win
A year ago no one knew anything about a French film called “The Artist” made in Los Angeles by French people for $15 million. No American knew the names of Jean DuJardin and Michel Hazanavicius or Berenice Bejo. Then in May, producer Thomas Langmann showed Harvey Weinstein this silent black and white movie about the end of the silent film era. And the rest is history.
Now DuJardin, a French TV star, told me at 4am Pacific, “I am shocked.” At a late late after party around the pool at the Chateau Marmont, cast and crew celebrated. Some jumped in the pool fully clothed. Almost everyone spoke French. DuJardin gripped his gold Oscar statue with a death grip. “Have you met my new friend?” he asked people as he showed off his prize. “I still cannot believe it.” His wife said that her emails from France were overwhelming. “They are so proud at home.”
Move up Move down “The Artist” and the Medium-Agnostic Appeal of Old Tech Allen St. John Contributor The Most Controversial Dress At Oscars 2012 Jane Lee Forbes Staff A little later, the cast and crew moved over to the Four Seasons Hotel for a live interview with Ann Curry on The Today Show. Harvey Weinstein accompanied them. Altogether he picked up 9 of the 16 Oscars for which his company was nominated including getting Meryl Streep her first Oscar in 29 years, and another for the documentary, “Undefeated.” For Weinstein, it was his second Best Picture in a row. Last year it was “The King’s Speech. ” Add these to “ Chicago,” “The English Patient,” and “Shakespeare in Love” — all Best Picture winners, plus dozens and dozens of nominees from “Pulp Fiction” to “The Cider House Rules” to “The Aviator”–Weinstein is the single most winning studio head in history.
Streep’s win is particularly poignant. She has two Oscars, from 1979 and 1982, yet with 17 nominations, the public perceived her as having many more statues. She’s come close with “Doubt,” “The Devil Wears Prada,” “Music of My Heart,” “Bridges of Madison County”–and so many more. Winning at last after 29 years meant beating her friend Viola Davis. But Streep is human and can only stand so much. The Academy obviously agreed.
More later this afternoon from my visits to the Elton John and Vanity Fair parties, all star studded…
read us all at www.forbes.com
George Clooney Going Rogue Tonight with Party
So: George Clooney is going rogue tonight. He’s booked out Craigs on Melrose for a private Oscar party. He’ll have all his peeps from “The Descendants” and “The Ides of March,” plus friends and family, Brad and Angelina, the whole gang. If Clooney wins Best Actor, the place will go wild. If he loses, it will still be a hot spot for well wishers. Clooney and Pitt were odds on favorites to win Best Actor this year for their respective films. Then Jean DuJardin came out of nowhere. Of all this years’ films, “The Descendants” somehow got the short shrift–a surprise since it so very good. But everyone at Craigs will drink and eat the truffled fried chicken, and none of it will hurt.
Bobbi Kristina: Whitney Houston’s Daughter is OK, Just Not Alright
You can forget all those stories about Whitney Houston‘s daughter, Bobbi Kristina, disappearing or doing drugs since her mother’s death. I am told that “from the moment” Whitney passed away, the family called in Houston’s drug counselor for help. Warren Boyd, aka “The Cleaner,” has been with Bobbi Kristina “around the clock.”
Many websites that just copy each other, starting — surprisingly– with “The Daily Beast”–are trying to turn Bobbi Kristina into a tabloid heroine at death’s door. The frenzy is remarkable. But pictures and video from the funeral show the 18 year old young woman talking, laughing, crying, and acting–normal. Having Boyd there is extra protection. He’s known for her a long time.
Says my source: “He came right to the Beverly Hilton Hotel, he stayed on the 4th floor with her, he’s been by her side through everything. He went to the funeral and then took her home. Bobbi Kristina didn’t go to the repast because she was overwhelmed. But Warren was with her at the hotel. She never went missing.”
The source added that “Bobbi Kristina is being watched like a hawk, don’t worry.” Calls to Boyd were not returned. Boyd was responsible for cleaning Whitney up almost a year ago–starting in April 2011, and at least one previous time.
Key to this story is that Bobbi Kristina has evidently returned to Atlanta to the condo she shared with her mother. She has left the Houston family in New Jersey. Her father, Bobby Brown, is said to be there, too. His last tour date was Sunday in Newark.
“General Hospital” Reaches All Time Low in Ratings, Prepares for Wrap Up
A few months ago I wrote that “General Hospital” would kill off Robin Scorpio, played by Kimberly McCullough she since was a child. Well, they did it. There is a lot of mail on this subject. But last week, “GH” reached an all time low in ratings. This isn’t by happenstance. ABC is getting ready to say goodbye to its last soap in time to debut Katie Couric in September. McCullough says she left to become a director, which may be true. But “GH” and ABC are following the plan laid by Procter and Gamble a couple of years ago. They got rid of the young demographic actors on “As the World Turns” and “Guiding Light.” It’s one thing to kill off old characters on a soap. But when you start killing the young female characters with big fan bases, that’s a sign the show is over.
ABC’s big problem is that the two shows they replaced “All My Children” and “One Life to Live”–“The Chew” and “The Revolution”–are unwatchable. So now what? The wheels are in motion to end “General Hospital,” on the air since Lyndon Johnson was president. There will be a lot of mail, but the network doesn’t care. This is cost cutting. Just as with the two other shows, they want “GH” off the air. Maybe they’ll go really retro and bring back The Afternoon Movie, in black and white. Or drag over programming from Lifetime. But Tuesday was the pivotal day for “GH.” Sorry, fans. (Ratings are from tvbythenumbers.com) PS McCullough has directed a new short film, listed on the Internet Movie Data Base, and has appeared in what looks like a direct to video film. But she’s talented, and there’s nowhere to go but up.
Rihanna, Chris Brown: Back Together with F Rated Raunchy Remix
It seems like Rihanna, aka Robyn Fenty, has gotten past being beaten to a pulp by Chris Brown. She asked him to add some lyrics to a remix of a “Song” she calls “Birthday Cake.” I’ll give you the link. At about 1:14, Mr. Brown informs Rihanna that “God, I want to f— you right now/I’ve been really missing your body.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ypgXMcQNpdM
The use of the word “God” may have a religious meaning. It’s unclear.
This couple will be remembered as the Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell of modern pop, nor Carole King and James Taylor, or Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme. The hip hop duo has been written about extensively in the tabloids as being back together romantically. In fact, it’s unclear, if they’ve ever been apart. Brown won a Grammy Award last week for Best R&B album, which was completely ridiculous. In 2009, he beat Rihanna senseless the night before the Grammys. She supposedly has a restraining order against him. Something tells me it’s not working.
Someone better tell Rihanna to watch the Tina Turner movie, “What’s Love Got to Do With It.” Although, Tina was never this vulgar in the first place.
Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson Had a Curious Friend in Common
Here’s the one person in the Whitney Houston story whose name you have not heard, and who has remained a mystery: a Dutch man from Amsterdam who goes by the name of Raffles van Exel. He is also known – in court records—as Raffles Dawson and Raffles Benson. He was on the fourth floor of the Beverly Hilton Hotel in one of Houston’s suites when she died. He appeared downstairs in the lobby shortly thereafter, wearing aviator sunglasses, sobbing.
As usual, he had an entourage in tow, including Quinton Aaron, the actor who played the football player in “The Blind Side.” Raffles, in one of his many PR Newswire releases, recently announced that he’s producing movies with Aaron. It’s just one of many ventures he announces regularly. For someone who has no obvious means of support, he is a regular on PR Newswire and You Tube. On the latter, you can find him interviewing friends of Michael Jackson. It is assumed that he sells stories to tabloids. He regularly includes names of tabloid reporters like Kevin Frazier of “The Insider” on his Tweets.
Despite the shock of Whitney’s death, Raffles still made it downstairs to Clive Davis’s party. He was dressed in formal wear, had Whitney’s tickets in his hand, and intended to sit at her table. Just inside the ballroom he was comforted by celebrities to whom he related his story—“I found Whitney.” Gayle King hugged him. Quincy Jones listened patiently to his story. A security guard told me later, “Well, he was up there.” He was also hanging around with Houston all week prior to her death. On Tuesday when she emerged from a nightclub, looking disheveled, Raffles appears in a photograph on TMZ like a deer in headlights. He is standing right behind her in a powder blue suit. On Twitter, he wrote: “STOP reading the stupid blogs.. Whitney had a great time, she looked amazing. Nothing was wrong, it was just DAMN hot in that club.”
But who is Raffles van Exel? He’s one of Hollywood’s mysteries. I first met him in 2005 hanging around the Jackson family during Michael Jackson’s child molestation trial. After Michael went abroad, Raffles was often seen with Michael’s father, Joseph Jackson. He trades on being an “insider” when there’s a scandal. No one really knows him, but he’s always where there’s action and celebrities. On the internet he claims to own a number of companies including Raffles Entertainment. He’s also been sued a couple of times, once by a partner in something called Max Records, Inc., and once by a private aviation company in Los Angeles. I spoke to the plane company and they said they can’t comment because the situation is ongoing. On Twitter he claims to be managing “my girl,” Chaka Khan. There are plenty of pictures of Raffles on the internet with celebrities. You can see him with everyone from Magic Johnson to Sandra Bullock. If ever there was a real life Zelig, he is it.
It’s not a surprise that Raffles has turned up in Whitney Houston’s story. Last October, he and Whitney and others traveled to North Carolina with Whitney’s sister in law Patricia Houston for something called a Teen Summit. It was billed as part of The Patricia Houston Foundation, an organization for which there is no official 501 c3 registration. Pat Houston, married to Whitney’s brother Gary, has been Whitney’s manager for years. (Whitney’s own foundation for children ceased functioning years ago.) She also owns a consignment shop in North Carolina, and a candle company called Marion P. Candles, with Whitney.
In the old days he used to wear a yellow jacket full of black question marks—like The Riddler. On Saturday night, as he pulled in various guests to Clive Davis’s party past the velvet ropes, he was wearing a Michael Jackson-like tuxedo. He lives in West Hollywood now, but his official domicile—and where he’s been sued—is Chicago. He has not responded to countless emails and phone messages.
UPDATE: Raffles indeed attended the funeral, riding with Pat Houston in a family car. Insiders are docked and concerned that he’s still hanging around. At the funeral he made a beeline up the aisle at the church at the end of the service, to have his picture taken with Cissy Houston. Security rebuffed him. I’ve since learned also that his family may be Dutch, but he is from Suriname in South America. More to come, both here and at Forbes.com
Zooey Deschanel Tells Writers: “Hit On Me”
Woody Allen won his fifth Writers Guild Award Sunday night for originals screenplay, this time for “Midnight in Paris.” Best Adapted Screenplay went to Alexander Payne and co. for “The Descendants.” No one adapts a novel like Payne. For Woody, it’s well deserved. But at the Oscars it may be a different story since “The Artist” was not eligible for the WGA. Woody previously won for “Broadway Danny Rose,” “Crimes and Misdemeanors,” “Annie Hall,” and “Hannah and Her Sisters.” Other winners included “Modern Family” and “Breaking Bad in TV, and “Cinema Verite” and “Too Big to Fail” for HBO in Best Movie and Mini-series. PS Really, the whole thing about “Midnight in Paris” still gets me. Woody told me at the Cannes Film Festival premiere that he put the story together over a weekend.
He had no idea it would catch on the way it did. But it was genius.
From our LEAH SYDNEY:
Zooey Deschanel, (‘New Girl,’) and Joel Mchale (‘Community’) hosted the WGAW Writers Guild Award West Awards last night in Hollywood. This clever, witty event is one of the most enjoyable in Hollywood, with each of the writers trying to out funny each other on stage. Joel and Zooey were the perfect hosts, adorable Zooey started off with, “I think you writers are hot because of your minds and plaid shirts. Please, don’t be shy, hit on me. Mama wants her dance card to be full.”
The evening had plenty of celebrity presenters, including Tom Selleck, Lisa Kudrow and Bryan Cranston. But perhaps the presenter that got the biggest
laugh was thirteen year old Kiernan Shipka, who plays Sally Draper on AMC’s hit, ‘Mad Men.’ Kiernan was presenting along with Men’s Creative/Executive
Producer Matthew Weiner, when she complained that she wasn’t be given enough “juicy” work to do on the show, to which Matt quipped, ‘you’re not ready.’
Kiernan then went on to do an imitation of Faye Dunaway’s famous ranting about wire hangers from ‘Mommie Dearest.’ The jaded crowd roared. Amy
Poehler also quipped when ‘The Colbert Report,’ won over ‘Saturday Night Live,’ her old stomping ground. “Hey, be cool,” she implored the crowd,
“I’m going to tweet now that SNL won, so just pretend we did.” Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer presented an award to their ‘Help’ writer Tate Taylor,
who talked about his 15 year quest for his ‘overnight success.’
RIP to the Ebullient, Indefatigable Steven Greenberg
I rarely gasp at news of a death, but Page Six is reporting the passing on Saturday of Steven Greenberg. I worked for Steven–he tortured me, often with good humor–for the three years he owned and published “Fame” magazine from 1988-1991. He had previously owned the Roxy roller disco, and was infamous on Wall Street for being a stock promoter. Before the Roxy, he’d promoted all sorts of things besides stocks including Commodore computers. He was involved in some other scandal involving a carpet cleaning company.
He ran his empire– called Anametrics– from the 67th floor of Rockefeller Center–what is now known as Top of the Rock. He’d inherited the offices from Don King. You took an elevator to the Rainbow Room, then a separate private lift to an aerie he shared with business partner Michael Scharf. The place was dripping in Art Deco pieces he’d bought, mostly on Madison Avenue. Some of it was valuable. Some of it we called “Art Drecko.” He had a conference table and chairs from the USS Normandy. His desk and most of his own office was Chinese black lacquer. Even though he had the best view in Manhattan, he kept the heavy red velvet drapes closed. At night he roamed around Manhattan in his chauffeur driven stretch Mercedes. With his white hair he resembled Benjamin Franklin. He wore nothing about custom made navy blue pin striped suits that cost–then–$3,500–and monogrammed French cuff shirts.
Steven had an entourage. Mostly it was the late Margaux Hemingway, whom he adored, and Elizabeth Ray,who was infamous from a Washington DC scandal. He’d helped her reinvent herself with a book and branding called “The Washington Fringe Benefit.” They were all inseparable. He loved his uncle so much that he gave him a job in the Xerox room just to keep an eye on him. Most of his dates were very young women with short dresses and little knowledge of English. When you asked them what they did, they said they were “psychology students at St. John’s.” Whatever. It was all in good fun.
In the mid 1980s, Steven found Andy Warhol and what was left of his crowd. He was obsessed with being at the hottest “in” places–150 Wooster, Nell’s, MK, Canal Room, Elaine’s, Le Cirque–with Bianca, Calvin, Liza, Halston. He had to be in the right place with the right people. And have the best table. “Rawjahr,” he’d say in his thick New Yawk accent, “come sit here, I want you to meet–” and it was some guy who owned oil fields, malls, circuses, a country. He was crazy and lovable. In retrospect, I should have made a documentary about him.
When Andy Warhol died in 1987, Steven bought a of stuff at Andy’s auction. He was obsessed with Andy, with Basquiat. He knew what would accrue in value. He hired the very eccentric Gael Love, from Andy’s “Interview” magazine, to edit a new monthly called “Fame.” I was the Articles Editor. Steven was an enthusiastic publisher with no taste. But he could sell ads, and was always selling, selling, selling. He nixed an exclusive cover on Madonna because he didn’t like her. (We had to run the piece inside; it caused chaos.) He had screaming fights with Gael, and once threw a table at her. (I think he missed.) He was a little erratic. It turned out the whole time we were doing Fame, he was being investigated by the SEC for insider trading. Eventually he paid a large fine. Some of his collaborators went to jail. The magazine ended in acrimony.
I’ll tell you one thing he did that was kind of ground breaking: against his own wishes, he put Whitney Houston on the cover in 1990. I wrote the story; Gael really wanted it. Steven was nervous that no black celebrities were ever on luxury magazine covers. But he gave in, and it was wonderful. Whitney wore a Balenciaga catsuit. She was at the height of her fame. And the issue sold. So there.
I really cannot believe he’s dead. A few years ago I spotted him outside 230 Fifth Avenue, with lots of young people and barricades. He’d started a new nightclub on the roof. He was so proud, he took me upstairs to show me around. It was wild. I don’t know what it was or is and it’s still open. The food was terrible; the place was packed with good looking kids. Out front on the sidewalk, there was dozens more club kids waiting for entry. He’d become Steve Rubell. Steven was beaming. Steven sometimes stuttered when he was excited. “Look, look, look at this,” he said, arms wide open, gesturing to the Empire State Building. He was just one of those unique New York stories. He loved the city. He refused to get a summer house. He always wore the suits. As Frank Sinatra sings in the song, he “just wanted to be a part of it.”
My goodness–lymphoma killed him. This seems impossible. Not Steven. He was constantly calling wire services on Sundays to pitch stories and plug items. He said, “If you call them on Sunday, it’s slow, and they have nothing for Monday. They’ll run whatever you give them.”
So I’m writing this on Sunday night, and hoping some other sites pick it up. We’ve lost someone who was one in a million. And it just seems too simple. I guess I thought he’d just get in a balloon one day and fly off the roof of 230 Fifth to a nightclub he’d built on another planet. That’s where I’m going to pretend he is.