The latest tape isn't that interesting. It's a conversation between the Miramax boss and director Quentin Tarantino from a long time ago, 1997, when both were still at the top of their game; the most notable line is Weinstein's description of Robert DeNiro's career dilemma as an explanation for some grievance he's carrying. Change a few words and this could be a summary of Weinstein's own plight, a movie producer who wanted to be an all-round mogul but now must be wondering whether he has the financial wherewithal.

This is a great actor and actually a great guy, who's going through a difficult time... I think he's really having like a scratching-his-head session, you know, with his own life and his own career. I think he knows he can play a certain kind of role from now for the next 20 years. But I think he wants to change the course of his career.

First of all, Charlotte Simmons is supposed among other things to be an indictment of college promiscuity, something Tina Brown had no trouble with as an ambitious young undergraduate at Oxford University with boyfriends such as Martin Amis. (I'd been looking for an excuse to rehash Brown's active college sex life.)

Second, it is a profoundly conservative book—George Bush's favorite—by an author who has mocked Tina Brown for her salon liberalism. Tom Wolfe tells of a dinner party at which the guests engaged in ritualistic disdain for George Bush, only to be punctured by one of those workers they professed to care about so much, a waiter who planned to vote for the despised Republican. Wolfe told the Guardian: "Tina and her circle in the media do not have a clue about the rest of the United States."

Above all, how on earth can Brown spare the time? In her career choices Tina Brown has of late become as promiscuous as the college students ridiculed in Charlotte Simmons. She pops up in the restroom to which reporters covering Hillary Clinton's campaign had been exiled, working on a book on the candidate which now seems redundant; she's still pitching her book on Lady Diana to middle-aged women in cities such as Pittsburgh and Naples, FL; originally British, Tina Brown is one of the candidates to take over the BBC's famed Letter from America radio broadcast; as the supposed founder of the forthcoming Daily Beast web site, she's been establishing her internet bona fides talking to the dreary Online News Association.

That wouldn't matter except that she's been presenting herself as an internet convert, full of passion for a new medium “vibrant with life instead of constantly obsessed with fears of its own extinction.” She's a founder of a website which is supposed to launch in weeks. One would have thought Barry Diller would be expecting the degree of maniacal commitment that Brown once brought to magazines and that internet entrepreneurs are expected to bring to their ventures.

Warner Bros. sued an Indian film company for making a movie called "Hari Puttar," claiming that it was a ripoff of Harry Potter. They just lost the case in an Indian court. Home team advantage? Actually, when you hear the facts it seems more like sheer bullying or paranoia on Warner Bros. part:

"Hari Puttar" is not a tale of magic, but the story of an Indian boy and his cousin forgotten at home in Britain where his family has recently moved, in a plot more reminiscent of the film "Home Alone." In the Indian film, 10-year-old Hari Puttar must guard his scientist father's top-security computer chip from bumbling burglars, while his parents are away.

Gee, that sounds... absolutely nothing like Harry Potter. Also, "Hari is a common name in India and Hindi for God, while 'puttar' is Punjabi for son."

Hey Warner Bros, stop that. Bollywood has already stolen Snoop Dogg from us and India has surpassed America in fighting the Axe Body Spray menace. Soon America will have no original culture left and you'll have to steal ideas from India, so don't blow your wad on frivolous lawsuits. [WSJ; pic via Courant]

The fact that it's a Borat-style "documentary" in which dumbasses are strung up by their own words has dumbasses everywhere complaining even before it hits theaters.

The project has already inspired protests at its premiere at the Toronto film festival earlier this month, and US satirist Bill Maher and director Larry Charles have been accused of misleading participants. Maher has conceded that several sleights of hand were necessary to persuade people to perform. 'It was simple: We never, ever, used my name. We never told anybody it was me who was going to do the interviews. We even had a fake title for the film. We called it A Spiritual Journey. It didn't work everywhere. We went to Salt Lake City, but no one would let us film there at all.'

Going further in an interview with the Hollywood Reporter, Maher described the type of audience he hoped to provoke: 'Any religious person. The point is to question what is usually made to be unquestionable in this country. Normally if you say the word "faith", the debate is over - no matter what incredibly nonsensical, destructive, ridiculous tenet comes out of your mouth. I could say, "My faith is the tooth fairy and Klingons are coming". But I'm not going to play by those rules.'

The determination to offend is not limited to the US market. A specially commissioned international poster, unveiled this month, depicts three monkeys as a rabbi, the Pope and an imam.

[Guardian UK]

"It was very tricky," Abrams told the L.A. Times. "We actually had written a scene with him in it that was a flashback kind of thing, but the truth is, it didn't quite feel right. The bigger thing was that he was very vocal that he didn't want to do a cameo. We tried desperately to put him in the movie, but he was making it very clear that he wanted the movie to focus on him significantly, which, frankly, he deserves."

The director was responding to an earlier comment Shatner had made about the newest Star Trek offering: "There is no need for me to know anything because I'm not a part of it." [UPI]

[Kevin Smith via Adfreak]

*Americans, please unclick this post.

[via Adfreak]

When you think of celebrity media today, think of two words: OK! magazine. Its entire business model is based on working *with* celebrities to come up with the nicest, most agreeable presentation possible. OK! is so celebrity-friendly it is edited by a former celebrity flack.

Although OK! may not be the most powerful celebrity magazine, its business methods pull US Weekly, People, and the rest of its competitors in its direction. Outlets have to fight for celebrity exclusives, and when a celebrity knows that she can go to OK! and be treated to only the nicest coverage in exchange for cooperation on a story, it's incumbent upon anyone else who wants to land that story to put up a similarly sweet offer.

The other significant part of today's celebrity media consists of the dirt-mongering gossip hounds—TMZ, Perez Hilton, etc. They place less stock in treating famous people respectfully, but they are susceptible to favor-trading.

So what many celebrities have come to realize is this: the fact that they will be covered is a given. The fact that they will have to endure a certain amount of unwanted published gossip is also a given. Modern media saturation ensures it. Luckily, they're in a position to counter any negative coverage from the dirtmongers with positive coverage from the friendlier celeb press. It's all waiting there, right out in the open. What they need is not a flack; what they need is simply a broker.

We think of the classic Hollywood publicist as a highly-connected favor trader in a position to keep a handle on the constant demands of the media with clever spin, keeping the bad news secret and the good news front-and-center. But the explosion of online media outlets has rendered this model anachronistic. The big media outlets that were once in a position to bargain with flacks are now struggling to keep up with online competitors.

So Brad Pitt doesn't need to pay a special PR person for her services. He can simply get his manager to handle it. He doesn't need a lying flack to call up newspaper editors and berate them; he just needs someone who can get the editor of celebrity weeklies on the phone to work out the best deal. He doesn't need a pit bull; W magazine just let him take its cover photo with his own camera, for chrissake. That's better PR than money can buy.

Eventually, Hollywood flackery will dwindle down to two primary categories: crisis specialists like PR ninja Mike Sitrick, whose services will be in demand as long as celebrities are fucking up in any way; and those who specialize in clients with some political inclinations, like Ken Sunshine (pictured), who reps Hollywood superliberals like Leo DiCaprio, helping to assure that they're taken seriously.

All others should be able to do away with their general-purpose flacks. Studios and networks can handle publicity for their own movies and shows. Managers can determine the best place to place stories for their celebrity clients. One less middleman won't be mourned. Even celebrities deserve to save a few bucks sometimes.

Who is he?

Tucker Max is, essentially, a born asshole who managed to parlay that asshole-ness into fame. The wonders of the internet. He went to the University of Chicago and Duke Law School, and has spent his life since graduation relating stories about himself being drunk and hooking up with girls. Throw in some poop jokes and random destruction of property, and you have Tucker's entire oeuvre.


His stories got extremely popular online in the early '00s, thus his ensuing internet fame, book deal, and movie deal. A 20-year-old reading his stories would reasonably consider him a passable writer with a good sense of humor and some awesome adventures. A 30-year-old reading him would reasonably consider him a juvenile prick who did all the same stuff that everybody else did when they were young and crazy, but never got enough sense beaten into him by life to stop being an idiot.

Tucker is 32.

What's wrong with that?

"My mom told me when I grew up I could be anything I wanted. So I became an asshole," Tucker writes. His life goal is "To be a celebrity that gets paid to get drunk, act like an asshole, and get drunk some more." Okay, fine. But his self-esteem is predicated on the idea that being an asshole is cool, and anyone who objects is not gonzo enough to worry about.

No. Hunter Thompson was gonzo. Tucker Max is just...an asshole. We're just pointing out exactly how much of an asshole he is, so we assume he's not upset about it.

He's kind of racist, he's probably scared to death of women who aren't self-loathing, he thinks he's a far better writer than he actually is, he talks tough to little guys while hiding behind a friend to make himself feel powerful, and just about everyone who's dealt with him in person—from employees to coworkers to shock jocks—thinks he's a prick. None of which would be that important if he hadn't positioned himself as some sort of heroic rebel. There's a time when being an asshole goes from being funny to being repulsive; that time was many, many years ago for Tucker Max. But he forgot to change.

His stories aren't really that crazy, either. Ninety-eight percent of frat guys in America have all the same pastimes. Do some different shit, bro.

Why does anybody care?

It's a mystery! We would have stopped writing about Tucker Max long ago were it not for the massive outpouring of public interest. Our theory is that everyone has met a Tucker Max or two in their lives; that loud ass guy at the bar hitting on the dumbest, drunkest girl and annoying everybody else in the place, and telling exaggerated stories about it for the next six years, bro. Nobody likes that guy.

But please notify us if you detect his awesomeness.





[All previous Tucker Max coverage]

• "Tucker truly is an asshole. i have been in the movie business for many years and worked with a lot of super-assholes, and aside from a few (fuck Scott Rudin) Tuckers the worst." Why? Our tipster says Tucker is lazy, appearing on the set only about half the time. Which, he clarifies, is not unusual for producers, except Tucker is "not really a producer he's just a
  tool."
• "Tucker baby talks his dog. not kidding at all, he uses a baby talk voice when talking to it even in front of other people. wtf?"
• Although Tucker would be expected to hit on all the women on set, per his books, he is in fact "standoffish" towards them most of time, supposedly.
• Most of the actors, and the movie's director, and most of the crew is very friendly, our tipster says. Tucker is the lone problem child. He also says that the movie will be much funnier than the script made it sound—we'll have to reserve judgment on that point. Tucker reportedly considered directing the film himself; "whoever convinced him not to do that should get his money for this."
• Tucker "got into an argument a few weeks ago with one of the teamsters who run basecamp, and hit the roof on the guy and tried to fire him. guess what dipshit, you can't fire teamsters w/o cause. tucker had to eat crow on that one, it was funny."
• At the movie's wrap party, "the crew gave him a personalized straight jacket, which should tell you what they think of him. they tried to make it out as a joke, but it wasn't it was what they thought."

Here are the gifts that the crew got at the wrap party. Our tipster writes, "a shirt and beer glass. real classy Tucker."

"This is what I've always loved about New York. Those little moments on the sidewalks, you can watch the buildings and feel the air and look at the people, and sometimes meet somebody you feel like you could talk to."

Which sort of highlights the problem, doesn't it! Like, hey, you can actually look at buildings and talk to strangers, technically, in any place that exists but in New York people have actually bought into the notion that their most mundane experiences and interactions are more special because someone might write a movie about them someday. When really the only decent movies about mundane experiences and quirky romantic interactions these days take place outside of New York (just ask Woody Allen!)**

*"Love in New York" is at best a problematic concept. I have already written about that here and here and here and let's be honest, probably a few thousand other places. My general take on this is that New Yorkers are conned—by their permalancer gigs and their sperm donors and their pretentious/prodigious collections of books written by misanthropic pervs and the commodity fetishism (not to mention the materialism!) and the constant distraction of mere survival when you have so many parties to attend and an overabundance of self-esteem—into thinking that they are actually "independent," and that the last thing they want to be is "codependent" when interdependence is the operating principle of human civilization. Just ask that Domino publisher who had to hire both an egg donor and a surrogate mother to make a baby!

Here is a New York, I Love You vignette: yesterday I hung out with an ex-boyfriend who was very sweetly comforting me about a recent breakup with another boyfriend about whom my favorite story goes:

Ex-boyfriend's Ex-Girlfriend, upon meeting me at a party: Oh my god, that time you wrote about how dating was like being waterboarded was just so true! I forwarded it to all my friends and they all agree that is exactly what dating in New York is like.
Me: How about some Jameson's?

Anyway said ex-boyfriend always used to seem confused that I was dating the more recent ex-boyfriend at all, since more recent ex-boyfriend was obviously not the most considerate dude in the world. "I will be your Yenta!" previous ex-boyfriend said, and proceeded to go through his phone. He scrolled through the whole alphabet with nary a suggestion, until he came to "X", where the more recent ex was listed. "Now I get it!" he said.

**Except for The Wackness because it was about 1. the nineties and 2. the actual love story was about a man and his pot dealer, so it was more realistic.

The actors at work (Tucker character in white t-shirt):

Tucker and a rapt crowd:

Drew Curtis' experience:

I spent three days on set, here's my take on things.

Tucker is completely out of control. As he explained it to me, he's
spent so much of his life not having to report to anyone that it's
killing him having to work with other people. Judging from the
agitation I'm seeing, that's an understatement. The first day I was
there, Tucker and Nils (the other screenwriter guy, who's really the
brains behind the operation) were in a heated argument in the corner. I
asked Nils what it was about, he tried to downplay it. But from what I
saw personally, this is a normal occurrence for Tucker.

Nils tells me that the actor playing Tucker, Matt, who really seems to
have his shit together, is the complete opposite of Tucker (super nice
guy, etc etc). I've spoken with Matt a few times and he really couldn't
be nicer to a guy who's only got about 3 lines. Bob Gosse, the director,
is the brains behind it and seems to butt heads with Tucker pretty much
constantly.

Tucker apparently thinks that the actor playing him has to actually be
him in real life. Or something. I have no idea what the deal is. To
me it looks like Matt's doing a fantastic job. I think Tucker's just a
control freak. He interferes constantly with the acting, the directing,
even sometimes the lighting. He doesn't know shit about any of this
stuff.

The sad thing is apart from him this is a really good group, who all
seem to have their shit together. My previous experience with filming
is limited to a few episodes of FarkTV that I was in. That was pretty
much 6 guys and a handicam. There's a full film crew out here, easily
100 folks working just on logistics. I was kinda surprised, I figured I
was gonna see 6 guys and a handicam. It's a full blown production.

The actors are doing a great job with the material. And speaking of
which, I read the previous articles about the movie on Gawker. The
script does read pretty lame, but the main actors are delivering it
extremely well. It all sounds very natural. I think also that this
pretty much isn't a movie the Gawker demo is going to like anyhow.
NASCAR-loving fart-joking middle America will eat this stuff up. If
this succeeds it will be in spite of Tucker and not because of him.

[Previous Tucker Max coverage. Please note the relative balance of this post.]

In a column for London's Spectator, Young mentions the current campaign to reclaim that section of the Village as 'Little England.' American prejudices against British interlopers have come full circle, much like the neighborhood itself. The British journalist in the film is as gauche as the Times found his countrymen.

Toby Young is the son of a peer, studied at Oxford and Harvard, and founded one of the first high-low cultural reviews; but that obviously didn't work dramatically. Toby Young was painfully self-deprecating in his best-selling book; in this trailer for the movie, his upper-class background is almost entirely discarded. He's portrayed as a clueless oik who's plucked from obscurity in a bedsit above a kebab shop by Vanity Fair's Graydon Carter; the ruddy Brits dismissed by the Times a century ago seem positively charismatic by comparison.

Click for one scene from the trailer, in which Young breaks one of the cardinal rules of celebrity journalism, asking an interview subject whether he's gay.

Dunkin Donuts is putting ad screens on its checkout and pickup areas telling you to buy things and come back soon, respectively. Some stores are sticking video screens on the shelves, which flash ads at you based on what item you pick up off the shelf. Which seems like it would quickly get annoying. But the creepiest is the effort to read your face:

The company powering the screens for Dunkin', YCD Multimedia, is in the midst of deploying facial-recognition technologies that can classify people into certain demographic groups by identifying their approximate age and their sex.

Companies in the securities industries have been experimenting with facial-recognition technologies for some time. The technology often works by capturing an image of a person and using sophisticated algorithms to analyze features like the size and shape of the nose, eyes, cheekbones and jaw line — against databases of face information.

Hopefully you think this was cool in a good way:

[Excellent story by Emily Steel in the WSJ]

[Maxim via Cynical-c]

Downey also explained, "My whole thing is that that I saw The Dark Knight. I feel like I'm dumb because I feel like I don't get how many things that are so smart. It's like a Ferrari engine of storytelling and script writing and I'm like, 'That's not my idea of what I want to see in a movie.' I loved The Prestige but didn't understand The Dark Knight."

And don't bother warning him about possible reprisals for such loose talk. "You know, you're never too old to burn your bridges because I believe I have offended everyone. I think I've got a couple more. 'I'll burn that bridge when I come to it' is my favourite phrase I've ever coined." [via OhNoTheyDidn't]

[via Nah Right]

The young man was a Tucker fan, and quit a real job to go be a paid assistant on the set of Tucker's film, where we pick up his experiences:

I quit my stable job at a publishing house and moved out there. He said I could stay at his house, but when I arrived he made me sleep in the backyard the first night. Tucker had other assistants but I detected animosity right from the start. One guy continually tried to commit assault on me. I figured because of my lesser stature it was all part of the "breaking in" process. Well, 5 days into production, I'm being threatened with crossbows and berated at every turn. Tucker has me doing ridiculous tasks like getting him water at a perfect temperature. The first few times he'd say it was 10 degrees too hot. I knew he was joking, but I'd take it back and add some of the cold water (which I realize is poposterous, but if you'd seen this guy he'd sic on me with choke holds or really hard arm punches, you'd understand). Finally on day 8, I bring him a paper cup filled with water; he takes a sip and throws it right in my face. I practically fell over a chair. This was in front of Jesse Bradford who even cautioned Tucker that it was a little too far. Tucker told Jesse to shut up, and then Nils (the "other" Tucker) intervened.

After two weeks of constant abuse, including Tucker letting me use the bathroom in his house, which had his shit in the toilet that he didn't flush. I quit on the spot. Nils first tried to comfort me by saying that Tucker is a jerk, and that it wasn't worth quitting over. I said I understood until HE confides that it was him that left the gigantic log in the toilet for me.

I understand that guys like to laugh and joke and get along. I do the same thing with my friends. On the IHTSBIH set, however, it was a very different story. These people weren't funny. They were "fratastic" in that douchebag sense. On my last day on set I talked to Matt Czuchry, who I got to know rather well. He told me that the Hollywood business was cut throat, and that he'd had his share of lumps. He said everyday he was losing respect for Tucker and that he worried this role my be career ending because the character doesn't have any redeeming qualities. Actually, he said the character Tucker as it was written might appear to, but after studying Tucker himself, he realized the guy was a fucking prick.

You'll notice there are no party picks of Tucker and the actors after the first week or so. This is not a coincidence. I've never been so incensed with an individual. Perhaps I was asking for it, chasing a pipe dream with no regard, but nobody should have to deal with what I did. I haven't even scratched the surface...

I'm done with the fucking asshole for good. I've found a new job, similar to what I'm doing before, but I don't' think I'll ever forget the sheer humiliation I faced.

After quitting, the assistant sent Tucker a pretty polite email asking for his check, and wondering if Tucker would be putting up any photos of him in the film's Flickr page. The response:

From: Tucker Max
Date: Mon, Aug 11, 2008 at 10:19 PM
To: [Former assistant]

It's not MY fault you couldn't hack it. Don't come crawling back AND don't waste my time with bullshit promises if you wont back them up. You know something about photos? The person who takes them — or the person who employs the person who takes them — owns the copyright. I OWN THEM. You want them? Pay me.

You want your money? Jeff has it. Get it from him. I warn you, he's been in an extra bad mood lately.—

"...highly entertaining and thoroughly reprehensible..."
-NY Times describing TuckerMax.com

He asked for his check to be mailed to him, and said that he just wanted the photos to show his friends. Tucker wasn't fooled:

From: Tucker Max
Date: Thurs, Aug 14, 2008 at 5:20 PM
To: [Former assistant]

You want the photos so you can cry to Gawker. I didn't get where I am today by being a moron. You'll get your photos like everybody else – when the movie is done shooting.

Jeff will be passing through your area after we wrap. He'll hand deliver the money. We'll bring a camera along for the DVD extras. Now stop fucking bothering me.—

"...highly entertaining and thoroughly reprehensible..."
-NY Times describing TuckerMax.com

[DISCLAIMER: My personal belief is this story is authentic, though as some commenters have pointed out, it could be some ruse by Tucker fans to plant a fake story. Though, counterpoint: the story makes Tucker sound bad, not good, so if it were a plant (and we've seen some bad attempts), it would be a stupid one. Verdict: Real in my considered judgment, but if not, I hope Tucker writes a triumphant note soon so that we can mock it.]

Drive and Deliver is directed by Brett Morgen, who also did The Kid Stays In The Picture. But the entire thing is a $5 million marketing scheme by truck maker Navistar International. So while there's a rich history of companies sponsoring their own shows (the "Colgate Variety Hour"), and a rich history of product placement in movies, the idea of bankrolling an entire documentary starring your own company's product gives twice the impact, in a more subtle fashion.

First we got previews at the movies. Then we got ads at the movies. Then we got ads in the movies. Now we have movies that are ads. Well, at least our precious TV shows are safe from ads running during the show. No, they're not.

[NYT, B&C. Related: I have a shiny nickel for anyone willing to go through NYT ad reporter Stuart Elliott's stories for the past year and see how many times he uses the phrase "branded entertainment." I bet the answer is "many."]

Some of his main problems with the poster:

2. My head:
The left side of my face seems to be melting off of my skull. I guess I am looking directly into the Ark of the Covenant? Are they going for the bells palsy thing here? My left side looks like Brittany Spears' vagina.

4. Lips:
It looks like I'm wearing Maybelline Water Shine Diamonds Liquid Lipstick.

5. Fashion:
My character is sporting a very high collar I mean damn they should be snow capped at that altitude. It's going for the vampire lurking in the castle basement vibe. An Olympic pole vaulter would have a tough go clearing that collar.

As official Dane Cook Myspace blog commenter She-Cactus writes: "Hahaha, lmao!"

[Myspace via Adages]

He's a cheapskate.

Last week we noted how Tucker scoffed at a former blogger who wondered why he only made $82 for six months of work. Other employees tell us the standard pay for Rudius bloggers is somewhere in the $80/ quarter range, with one noting "I got just a tiny bit more than that when my site was doing really well." Sweet. So Rudius must be making a lot of money.

You work hard for the money.

One Rudius employee was ordered by Tucker to move to a different, more expensive city because Tucker thought that they could better do their job elsewhere. Once the employee had gone to the trouble of packing up and moving and finding a new, more costly apartment, we hear, their pay was reduced to almost nothing. Which seems like the standard Rudius pay rate, now that we think of it.

He's not popular with publishers.

We hear that at least one book agent quit working with Tucker because he flaked out on book proposal deadlines. (Not true? Email us!)

He's not popular with the bloggers that work for him at Rudius.

The emails we've received from disgruntled bloggers alone are ample evidence of this. He attracts bloggers he's interested in with the promise of writing for a wider audience—though, as you can tell by their pay, not necessarily more money. But when bloggers tire of Rudius and leave the fold, we hear, they are bizarrely wiped from existence in Tucker Max's world:

If an author leaves the site, the circumstances are never discussed. Not even on the message boards. It's reminiscent of some 1984 thought-crime type thing. The author is simply never mentioned again, the site stays up and repeated questions about "what happened" are ignored.

He's vindictive.

Those who have worked with Tucker say he's very protective of his "image," such as it is. We hear that his failed appearance on Opie and Anthony is a very sore point. This sensitivity manifests itself in both the disappearing of his fallen disciples as mentioned above, and in an atmosphere in which Tucker Max sycophants feel that harassment of detractors is a way to win approval. One blogger, Violent Acres, wrote a Tucker Max parody a couple of years ago. This resulted in 70 harassing phone calls from a crazed Tucker fan in a single weekend—and we hear the harassment is still ongoing, though the blogger has filed a police report.

Is it Tucker's fault that he has a crazy fan? Not necessarily. But it is Tucker's fault that he expressed his discontent with a cast member on his movie by taking a big crap in the toilet in the guy's trailer, taking a photo of it (do not click that link), and then blogging about it.

Can't wait till the movie comes out!

[Read all previous Tucker Max coverage here. Anybody else with Tucker stories, email us.]