Unable to stir up attention for her most recent movie, washed-up celebrity Winona Ryder apparently made a bid for attention by using a less traditional route—shoplifting (again).

As you can see by following this Google News link, there’s more about the shoplifting than about her movie.*** That’s because the critics weren’t kind, if the NYT’s Manohla Dargis’s review gives any indication:

Oh, yes, Winona Ryder, who memorably starred in “Heathers,” shows up periodically as Death Nell, a mysterious vamp with a Black Widow complex and some nasty black heels. I’m not exactly sure what she’s doing in this film, and I don’t believe that Mr. Waters or Ms. Ryder know either.

It seems like it was so long ago that Winona Ryder mattered to anybody, doesn’t it? Does anyone care about Hollywood anymore?

Richard Corliss recently had the guts to ask three of its biggest stars if they were, well, over:

I sat with three of the most popular actors of the past few decades — Robert Redford, Meryl Streep and Tom Cruise — who were promoting their new film, Lions for Lambs. I posed to them an indelicate question: Are movie stars obsolete? Consternation erupted as the three quickly and forcefully dismissed the idea.

Well, they would, since they have not only their livelihoods but their entire egos invested in the notion that the system that has been in place since they can remember will always be there. But nothing could be further from the truth.

Old media is imploding. Not even the movies have a hold over us anymore.

————-

*** Once upon a time (back in 1994, in Rolling Stone magazine), Ryder was lecturing other young stars about how grateful they should be for their success:

“For a long time, I was almost ashamed of being an actress,” Ryder says. “I felt like it was a shallow occupation. I’d go to see a band with friends from school, and people would be watching every move I made. They’ be judging me: ‘Look at her shoes! I bet those cost $400!’ That affected me. I grew up with no money.” …

Ryder often beats me to the next question.

“Why am I so defensive? I’m defensive because it offends me so much when… OK, I don’t want to fuck this up… I knew a lot of young actors who live in these dumps. They have their books scattered, and their mattress is on the floor - and they’re millionaires. That’s fine. That’s their way of living. But the reason they’re doing it is that they’re ashamed. And I’ve talked to them about it. You just want to say, ‘Don’t live this way to show people that you’re real and you’re deep.’ It offends me, because I know what it’s like to be in poverty, and it’s not fun, and it’s not romantic, and it’s not cool.”

Last year, Ryder wrote in a diary: “I feel like it’s OK to be who I am. It’s OK to be a fucking movie star. It’s OK to live in a nice house.”

I can’t help but note that the young actor she was dissing, Ethan Hawke, has gone on to enjoy career success in many different branches of the arts, while Winona Ryder, who had so much promise, has faded from view.

They want you to find out.

Writers Refuse to Budge on Globes

This is the strangest strike I’ve ever heard of—the union picks and chooses which organization will benefit from its largesse [emphasis in original]:

The writers are allowing otherwise-striking scribblers to contribute to the Screen Actors Guild and Independent Spirit Awards.

But what do you expect from “the giant high school cafeteria that is Hollywood”?

Hot tempers dominate the picket lines, and tension among friends is rising as more people in ancillary businesses lose their jobs and weeks without work stretch into months. The 12,000 members of the Writers Guild of America walked off the job on Nov. 5 over payments for the use of programs and movies on the Internet.

But once the strike captains call it a day at the end of the picketing shifts and both sides dispatch their last press releases, the conflict settles into a quiet discomfort.

“When I see writer friends at the supermarket or at the movies, we know that those places are not forums to get into a debate on the strike,” said Nina Tassler, president of entertainment at CBS. “I’ve been friends with some of these people for 20 years.”

Welcome, Angelenos, to the wonderful turbulent media world of the early 21st century. Glad you could join the rest of us!

Rupert Everett unloads on Hollywood:

“De Niro, Redford, Keaton, Allen, Pacino … They’re all just tragic parodies of themselves,” he says. “Al Pacino looks like a mad old freak now. I say give it a rest, or go and do some serious stuff.” …

“The other day I saw a film called Because I Said So with Diane Keaton, and I thought, ‘here’s one of the women we loved most in 1970s cinema, debasing and humiliating herself in this load of trash’.

“Why? Because we’re sheep, we just follow the herd … It’s just part of the huge amount of product that’s put out now that’s really bad. And it’s our fault. We’re all responsible for how the culture is.

Hollywood’s denizens responsible for the culture? What a thought! But never fear. The future looks rosy, Everett says:

Clooney the man? “He’s not the brightest spark on the boulevard. He’ll be president one day. Mark my words, if he’s straight, he’ll be president.”

As the Hollywood writers’ “strike” continues, various heavyweights have started to make power plays–um, I mean, separate deals. Like Letterman:

CBS’s late-night star, David Letterman, is pursuing an interim agreement with the Writers Guild that would allow him to return with his writers on Jan. 2. Mr. Letterman is in a position to make such a deal because his production company, Worldwide Pants, owns both his show and the one that follows on CBS, which features Craig Ferguson.

The fly in the ointment?

One representative of a late-night show said that some members of the guild leadership might have concerns about making a separate arrangement with Mr. Letterman, and that an agreement was far from a sure thing.

Ya think? Nah. I think that everyone will be making separate arrangements soon enough. The same NYT article notes that Conan and Leno are going back on the air in some way, shape, or form come the New Year. No word yet on Stewart and Colbert, but I’m sure they’ll feel the pressure soon enough from their network, too.

The way they will rationalize this breakdown of strikers’ discipline is also suggested in the Times piece. In contrast to Ellen DeGeneres and Carson Daly, who are already back on the air and to whom “the writers [which ones? --ed.]] “reacted with anger”:

the NBC hosts, along with Mr. Letterman, Mr. Kimmel and the Comedy Central hosts, have won praise from the writers for staying off the air so long and for paying their staffs.

So the game is over. Those who played by the rules and paid the proper respect won the moral high ground—the only ground that seems to count inside the Hollywood bubble. The only problem with this formulation is that this time, the game was played (and it’s not over yet) in full view of a nation that is already furious with Hollywood, bored by its products, and contemptuous of its residents, except as fodder for deliciously corrosive and often ruinous gossip.

If the point of this strike was for Hollywood writers to garner respect for themselves, it is to laugh. Instead, they have exposed themselves as beyond clueless about the technological revolution that is swallowing up not just their future but their present.

Via Mickey Kaus, I’m encouraged to find out that some folks have been trying to get through to Hollywood:

The video is funnier than most TV comedies. It reportedly got 400,000 hits–more than many cable shows. It was put up on the Web by unpaid performers seemingly just for the hell of it (and maybe the exposure). Doesn’t that sort of make Marc Andreesen and Rob Long’s point about the tenuous positon of both Hollywood and the Writers Guild? … It’s as if the Linotype operators went on strike and decided to publish their story in four color offset!…10:36 P.M.

Steve Boriss is a little more pointed in his analysis, and sees Hollywood (properly) as only part of a much larger picture:

By placing all forms of entertainment, including news, on the same medium, the Internet has launched a Darwinian struggle where the news, entertainment, and video game industries are now direct, head-to-head competitors for the distraction of audiences from their daily concerns. Crueler still, they must also now compete against mere amateurs, talent around the globe, blogs, porn, and also their former selves — their own archives of older articles, older movies, older programs, and older games never before available. That’s why audiences are plunging and pink slips are flying across all media – newspapers, TV, and Hollywood. The emerging, unified Internet entertainment, a.k.a. “InterTainment,” industry is now just one big happy family – but only if you happen to be a member of the audience

So why “worms” in the title of the post? Because, as Stephen Jay Gould reminded us in 1997, natural selection favors worms:

Darwin himself told us in his last book, The Formation of Vegetable Mould Through the Action of Worms, that we should never underestimate the collective power of worms on the move. Our general culture also recognizes two primary metaphors, one inorganic and one organic, for the reversal of received opinion. Well may traditionalists fear the turning of these two objects: tables and worms. The inversion of the humble worm, especially when disturbed, may bring down empires. Shakespeare told us that “the smallest worm will turn being trodden on.” And Cervantes wrote in his author’s preface to Don Quixote that “even a worm when trod upon, will turn again.”

A new media world will rise. Hollywood will not be left behind in the dust. Trust me.

update: Gawker is wondering why the dearth of Owen coverage on TMZ. Good Question! Meanwhile, Mickey Kaus is wondering why all the focus is on Kate’s tragedy. ‘Cause, Mickey, if she’s all sad about it, that makes her a good person rather than the slut she appeared to be in the rumors that were published about her at the time of Owen’s little accident.

Last week, amid the instantaneous global release of the most intimate details surrounding the presumed suicide attempt of the actor Owen Wilson, I wondered what had happened to Hollywood that there wasn’t even one layer of PR protection around this highly bankable star when the ravenous celebrity press got hold of the details.

Today, it looks like—finally—somebody is at home, even if what follows sounds like a fairy tale called “Owen Wilson’s Wonderful Recovery”:

Wes Anderson: Owen Wilson “Doing Very Well”

Actor Owen Wilson is in surprisingly good spirits after attempting to commit suicide on August 26, according to his friend, director Wes Anderson.

“Obviously he has been through a lot this week,” said Anderson, who directed the actor in his latest film The Darjeeling Limited.

“I can tell you he has been doing very well, he has been making us laugh.”

Let us agree from the outset that in the real world where we all live, Owen Wilson cannot possibly be doing “very well.” He was abusing various drugs and alcohol and was reportedly despondent or enraged shortly before he attempted to take his life a week or so ago. Only on another planet—let’s call it Bizarro Hollywood World—could this man be doing “very well.” He is human, after all. Right?

Wrong! He’s a star. Of course he’s doing well! In Bizarro Hollywood World, suicides get better overnight, with the help of their loving friends, family, and business partners.

So this news of Owen Wilson’s fabulous recovery is what I often refer to as PRopaganda ^TM: “dramatic realities” or “dramatic narratives” spun (by PR meisters) from a few legitimate details of a given celebrity’s autobiography and then embroidered with fan-pleasing details. The story-weavers get a peg to hang a plausible tale on (in Wilson’s case, he’s a comic actor, so when he’s being normal and not suicidal, we would expect him to be making people laugh) and run with it, till those of us who want to believe it, ’cause we loooove Owen, actually believe it.

[There's an entire academic and non-academic literature about this stuff, if you're interested. Start with Joshua Gamson's Claims to Fame---a fascinating read. But read it at your own risk: You will never love a celebrity in quite the same way again after you finish it, 'cause you'll know that you've been deliberately seduced. You've been had.]

Helpfully, in today’s WaPo, Shankar Vedantam tells us all about the stubborn human propensity to believe “myths” over reality:

The conventional response to myths and urban legends is to counter bad information with accurate information. But the new psychological studies show that denials and clarifications, for all their intuitive appeal, can paradoxically contribute to the resiliency of popular myths.

You should read the whole thing, but here’s the most fascinating bit:

[T]he mind’s bias does affect many people, especially those who want to believe the myth for their own reasons, or those who are only peripherally interested and are less likely to invest the time and effort needed to firmly grasp the facts.

Have favorite myths (e.g., good triumphs over evil)? Not likely to invest the time and effort need to grasp the facts? That would describe most of us, except when the subject matter is our passionate interest and/or hobby. We’re too busy to pay minute attention. Which is what gives marketers of all stripes—not to mention potential propagandists—their opening:

Clever manipulators can take advantage of this tendency.

Yes indeed. They most certainly can.This is where clever public relations comes in—in order to fight a damaged reputation, you’ve got to try to avoid repeating the claims made against you. Vedantam explains the paradox:

“If someone says, ‘I did not harass her,’ I associate the idea of harassment with this person,” said Mayo, explaining why people who are accused of something but are later proved innocent find their reputations remain tarnished. “Even if he is innocent, this is what is activated when I hear this person’s name again.

So how to you refute a false claim or reclaim a damaged reputation?

[R]ather than deny a false claim, it is better to make a completely new assertion that makes no reference to the original myth. Rather than say, as Sen. Mary Landrieu (D-La.) recently did during a marathon congressional debate, that “Saddam Hussein did not attack the United States; Osama bin Laden did,” Mayo said it would be better to say something like, “Osama bin Laden was the only person responsible for the Sept. 11 attacks” — and not mention Hussein at all.

Edward Bernays, the “father of PR”, recommended this tactic. Don’t refute. Fight PR with more PR. This stuff is all around us—in every corner of public life—all the time. Observe, and you’ll see.

By the way, the New York Post has a ways to go to catch up with the rosy picture quoted above about Wilson’s recovery. According to the Post, Wilson is “on the mend.” But he looks like shit.

Now, that’s more like it—slow and easy. Extend the life of the story, give it more room for endless ups and downs (for the next ten years, if Wilson is really unlucky).

The Post, of course, is the undisputed master of PRopaganda ^TM.

Class dismissed.

Once upon a time, I was a huge Scorsese fan, so I don’t know why I was so surprised that The Departed turned out to be an excellent film. But I was.

By far the biggest surprise was Leo ***, who has grown into his talent. Nice.

Also: this was Matt Damon’s best performance since Good Will Hunting, which is a sentimental fave of mine. Damon and Affleck, born and raised in the People’s Republic of Cambridge, were familiar types for me—from the press reports, their families seemed like counterparts to my New York cohort. It was fun to watch them get famous. I saw Good Will Hunting at the Angelica, and the audience was full of Damon’s friends. They yelled: “Matty! Matty! Matty!” It was down home and sweet: local boys who made good.

The Miramax magic is no more, however. The Weinstein brothers no longer have their finger on the pulse of America. Or, rather, the America they once catered to (Clinton’s America, and Tina Brown’s New York-L.A. corridor of sizzle and buzz) is gone and buried. Tina herself says that London is now the center of the universe and the capital of cool. New York, she claims, hasn’t gotten its mojo back since 9/11.

Ya think?

——–

In his Titanic days, when he was trying to escape the media mob and work off some steam, Leo used to hang around in the West Village with his friend Vince looking for pickup basketball games. I know because my son played basketball with them.

Leo was very low-key, my unimpressed 17-year-old son said. When my daughter heard about it, she burst into tears. She was 12. That’s okay. I read that even Susan Sarandon turned into a slobbering mom on behalf of her daughter, Eva, who was also in love with Leo back then. (Our daughters took gymnastics together, when they were three, at the Sutton gym. Susan was quite the stage mom. Tim was a doll. Boy, that seems like it was a long time ago … )

Nikki Finke claims she was the first to say that Jerry Seinfeld was auditioning for next year’s Oscar-hosting.

Just remember, you heard it here first: I predict Jerry Seinfeld will be next year’s Oscar host, and he’ll have the gig for several years. His memorable appearance on the 79th Academy Awards was tantamount to an audition — not just to see if the show liked him, but to see if he liked the show.

Hmmm. Her timestamp indicates she posted at 3:13 p.m. yesterday. Was that West Coast time or East Coast time?

Because I posted more or less the same thing, at 3:01 p.m. yesterday:

Ellen Degeneres by Jerry Seinfeld, with one sharp comment about all those “incredibly depressing” documentaries—he hit just the right note and stole the show from her. If he was auditioning for next year, I think he got the job.

Here’s proof  from my WordPress dashboard:

1540	2007-02-26 3:01:24 pm	upstaged

Credit where credit is due. Even if it’s only about the Oscars.

Ellen Degeneres by Jerry Seinfeld, with one sharp comment about all those “incredibly depressing” documentaries—he hit just the right note and stole the show from her. If he was auditioning for next year, I think he got the job.

Larry David by Laurie David. That looked like pure envy, not joy, on his face: “How on earth did she manage that, while all I got was those lousy gazillions from Seinfeld.” Now he’s got even more reasons to be miserable.

Meow.