The allegations of sexual harassment against Harvey Weinstein have been never-ending since The New York Times published their exposé last Thursday. Lots of people have spoken up, some to condemn, or say they were unaware of the rumors. Harvey Weinstein was one of the first people Gwyneth Paltrow thanked when she won an Oscar back in 1999, so I kind of kept expecting to see her release some kind of statement about this ugly mess with Harvey. Instead of a statement, Gwyneth, as well as others like Angelina Jolie, went to The New York Times and The New Yorker with awful stories of their own.
Is there anything Angelina Jolie can’t do? Act, direct, produce, wrangle a half-dozen children, think of the name “Brad Pitt” without mentally summoning the anger of 1000 Hells.. And now we know she has the power to act as the sexy bait to lure in a warlord.
Mean girls Scott Rudin and Amy Pascal are not ready to give up on making Cleopatra happen. After the 2014 Sony hack revealed how they really felt about proposed star Angelina Jolie, things looked like they were heading in the direction of a gargantuan celluloid disaster the likes of which had not been seen since, well, since Cleopatra. But now, The Hollywood Reporter is saying that Blade Runner 2049 director Denis Villeneuve is in talks to take on the probably cursed project.
Angelina Jolie is a fickle pickle. One minute she’s spilling her guts to People and Vanity Fair; the next, she’s ALLEGEDLY getting all prickly during an interview with Juju Chang for Nightline when asked about her divorce from Brad Pitt.
Earlier this week, Angelina Jolie went to Toronto and premiered First The Killed My Father, a film written/directed/produced by the award-winning director of Unbroken. Angelina’s life post-Brad Pitt has sort of been all about the kids, so she gathered them all together, threw them in a pile of fancy-ish kids clothes, and brought them all to the premiere. She repeated that again last night for the NYC premiere.
I like to imagine happier times, when Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt were ruling the box office and they probably spent their evenings sipping rare French wine watching their joint checking account balance whirl up and up and up like that National Debt Clock that spooks shit out of half of Manhattan. Now that they’re separated, St. Angie has recognized she needs to work a room and hawk her artsy-fartsy shit as well as commercial stuff so she can keep the Child Army in the palaces they’ve all grown accustomed!