Dreams! NYC Prep was all about dreams last night. Not the fitful things that muddy up your mind while you try to get a good sleep. The beautiful faraway things that some people might call Wants. Singing careers! Fashion!
The New York Observer, the fancypants pink paper read by the city's liberal elite, is about to roll out some changes. The two major ones: its cover price is going up to $2, and it's starting a full-on book review section, called the "Observer Review of Books," or "ORB." Recently laid off book reviewers of America, rejoice! This represents a big bet by the paper that its rarefied audience will be willing to pay more money for more literary coverage—and that the publishing industry, skittish as it is, will be willing to pour enough ad dollars into the Observer to make the new section viable. The NYO is no exception to every other print media outlet these days, in that it's trying to find a way to make its (vital) print product financially viable in the long term. Given all the papers across the country that have slashed their book review sections in the past year or two, it's not a bad niche to try to fill. This info courtesy of Observer President Bob Sommer. Contacted for reaction, former Gawker chief and current NYO gadfly Choire Sicha said—direct quote— "!!!."
We've spent a long time now with the freewheeling, Emmy-winning Jeremy Piven of Today: Oozing confidence from every pore of his shredded, hairless body (save for his scalp), that Piven is an Arian super-man. It's enough to make you forget about the Jeremy Piven of Yesterday, as featured in the clip above from a 1995 episode of Chicago Hope. Playing a patient with a stubbornly persistent erection (an ominous harbinger of things to come? Discuss), that Piven comes far closer to the Piven we first grew to love: Back when the hairline was making a break for the border, chest fur rolled across his torso like tumbleweeds, and carbohydrates still played a series regular role in his diet.
Of the 9 or 10,000 posts I've done since we started this site, this one is the hardest to write. After almost four years here at Defamer, I've decided it's finally time to move on. In an effort to keep this short and sweet, I'll be climbing out of the blogging hamster-wheel this Friday, and though I wish I had exciting news about where my next paycheck will be coming from (or some great story about why I'm leaving other than "it's time"), I'll probably just be taking a little hiatus to figure out what's next and work on some projects I haven't had the time or energy for since, oh, mid 2004: writing that might not involve typing in a tiny box in a browser window, eating the occasional lunch, spending lazy afternoons standing in front of the Chinese Theater in a loose-fitting Power Ranger costume, shaking down tourists for money. You know, how everyone in L.A. spends their idle hours.
Having signalled the beginning of a difficult revitalization process through the ceremonial sacrifice of their longtime marketing chief to the Hollywood gods earlier this week (in fairness, you try and sell something called The Last Mimzy), embattled New Line executives Bob Shaye and Tobey Emmerich sat down with the LAT's Patrick Goldstein to discuss What Went Wrong during their recent, flop-riddled run—Hairspray notwithstanding—and to share their vision for the studio's future. In a refreshing change of course, Emmerich reveals that they're ready to recognize that a screenplay is only as good as the one-sheet that condenses its ideas into a single, multiplex-lobby-friendly image and the test marketing audience that will recognize its third act problems at a fraction of the cost of a roomful of clueless development execs. Reports Goldstein: