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In frequently amusing excerpts from her upcoming autobiography now being published in the UK's Daily Mail, Romancing the Stone and Serial Mom star Kathleen Turner unloads both tell-all barrels into a number of her former co-stars, including Michael Douglas ("a wonderful friend and a terrible enemy"), William Hurt ("he loved those magic mushrooms"), and Anthony Perkins ("Everywhere he went, he carried a little bottle that I was told was benzyl nitrate. We'd rehearse a scene, then before the call to 'Roll camera', he'd take out his bottle and sniff it with each nostril.") But a special place in Turner's Hollywood-hardened heart is reserved for Peggy Sue Got Married castmate Nicolas Cage, whom she accuses of acting out so as not to seem like director/uncle Francis Ford Coppola threw him a spot on the call sheet purely out of nepotism:

He caused so many problems. He was arrested twice for drunk-driving and, I think, once for stealing a dog. He'd come across a chihuahua he liked and stuck it in his jacket.

On the last night of filming, he came into my trailer after he'd clearly been drinking heavily. He fell on his knees and asked if I could ever forgive him. I said, "Not right now. I have a scene to shoot. Excuse me," and just walked out.

Nicolas didn't manage to kill the film, but he didn't add a lot to it, either. For years, whenever I saw him, he'd apologise for his behaviour. I'd say: "Look, I'm way over it." But I haven't pursued the idea of working with him again.

Cage, eager to defend his good name, had his trusty publicist call Page Six to refute Turner's recounting of the alleged, set-disrupting arrests ("While I recall Kathleen Turner being a great lady and wonderful actress, the credibility of her biography and her memory is at stake . . . Fact credibility should have been exercised on [her] part"); following such an impassioned self-affirmation of his professionalism, we expect that the box office megastar can now safely put this brief ugliness behind him, and get back to the important work of mugging his way through terrible movies that gross hundreds of millions of dollars, unemcumbered by obviously baseless accusations of Chihuahua-napping.