Host with the most

Who is not eligible: the increasingly sour Tom Colicchio, the stubbornly monochromatic Michael Kors and the overly effusive Paula Abdul.

Who is eligible: perfectly coiffed Renaissance man Ryan Seacrest, safari-ready Jeff Probst and forever vogue-ing Tyra Banks.

The Academy of Television Arts & Sciences, controller of all things primetime Emmy-related, has decided to dole out an award for the first time to hosts of reality and reality competition shows. Just the hosts, though, not the helpmates (too bad for Tim Gunn) and not the judges (no, we don't feel sorry for Janice Dickinson).

Since that programming is among the most-watched on TV, it's about time the Emmys recognized those who guide us through the trials and tribulations of beauties devouring geeks, dancers cutting rugs and housemates getting busy.

Let us begin the campaigning now for our fave. Chant with us: Hei-di, Hei-di, Hei-di! A close second in our minds: Dr. Drew.

Green grass of home

If you've never been in Kentucky in the spring, do yourself a favor and hop a couple planes to see it (layover mandatory, but no horseback required).

That's what we did recently, breathing deeply of the last puffs of clean air that the Ohio Valley has to offer before the sticky 90%-humidity summer sets in and marveling at shades of green that don't exist in Los Angeles. (Yeah, grass not really blue. That's a myth).

Also catching a bit of pre-Derby Fever that brought the likes of Grammy-winning performers Alison Krauss and Robert Plant to the Louisville Palace, a restored 1928 movie theater just a few miles from Churchill Downs (best known for the first Saturday in May, most exciting two minutes in sports, ginormous hats, and mint juleps that no one in his right mind drinks). The two are pictured here winning a CMT Award last month.

There's something electric about being in a sold-out venue full of people who actually paid for their tickets -- we sure weren't in Industryville anymore! Staying up late on a school night -- nobody ducking out before the encore!

And it might be a country town full of Brad Paisley lovers, but it was a hard-rocking Plant crowd this night, old enough to revere Zeppelin classics like "Battle of Evermore," "Hey, Hey, What Can I Do," and "Black Dog," which got dreamy hybridized makeovers.

Two for the money

It being Earth Day and all, we made a little pledge to ourselves this morning to be more mindful of the environment -- we can live without plastic grocery bags for at least 24 hours -- and try to reduce our toxic output.

Apparently Patrick Goldstein made no such promise.

In The Big Picture this a.m., he let loose on Oscar-winning icons Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro, saying, basically, that they've both, separately and sometimes together, engaged in a callous money grab for the last couple decades, besmirching the reps they built with the likes of "The Godfather" and "Taxi Driver."

We'll concede that such fare as "Analyze That" and the current flop "88 Minutes" (pictured) aren't worth the actors' time. OK, they weren't being good brand shepherds. But has Goldstein never seen "Heat," a superb Michael Mann crime drama from '95 that never fails to suck us in, no matter how many times (10, 11?) we've seen it. There was much anticipation for that pairing, and the movie delivered in spades. (Wish we could say as much for the vaunted Russell Crowe/Denzel Washington matchup in "American Gangster." Booooring!)

Goldstein says the two titans have "become parodies of themselves" instead of taking a more prudent path trod by aging actors like Jack Nicholson and Clint Eastwood. Further:

"...if Pacino and De Niro are bedeviled by vanity, they are equally guilty of ego-stoked delusion. They still want to be treated like big-league stars, when they are, sadly, past their prime."

He doesn't hold out much hope for "Righteous Kill," which pairs Pacino and DeNiro in a serial killer thriller set for a fall release, saying "it has the get-out-your-checkbooks feel of the latest Eagles tour."

This is far from the first time anyone has pointed this out (we all know about "Gigli" and "Hide and Seek") but it might be the most eco-unfriendly rant we've seen in a while (all that hot air!), especially from a columnist who can fawn with the worst of them when he's writing about someone he clearly adores, like, say, David Mamet.

Sure would hate to see his carbon footprint.

Heavy metal

By Paul Dergarabedian

As I walked onto the Paramount lot for a recent screening of "Iron Man," I thought about my favorite superhero movie of all time, Christopher Nolan's "Batman Begins," and how, to me, it stands head and shoulders above any other comic-based feature.

Hey Favreau -- no pressure!

Having seen the trailers, it seemed that "Iron Man" could be an above-average big screen comic book adaptation, and given Favreau and cast (Robert Downey Jr., Terence Howard, Gwyneth Paltrow and Jeff Bridges), I was expecting a lot. Not just passable popcorn fare, but impress-me good.

It might be unfair, but so much is riding on any film that kicks off the all-important summer movie season, where studios make the bulk of their annual haul. After last year's record-smashing opening by "Spider-Man 3" on the same weekend, comparisons are inevitable. Did it make as much cash on as many screens to similarly stoked sold-out crowds?

I wasn't judging on potential boxoffice alone, though. I was also looking for some quality.

So, with "Batman Begins" as my yardstick, I settled in to watch.

Guyville

We're not watching nearly enough Spike TV.

Bet you've never ever heard anyone say that.

And we don't actually mean it, except that we were just looking over some categories for the upcoming "Guy's Choice" awards show (now in its second year!) and have to admit feeling a certain pang. Indigestion? Or interest in tuning in to two hours worth of testosterone-driven honors whose press release lists the likes of Kim Kardashian and Tila Tequila in the same sentence with Tina Fey, Kanye West and Tiger Woods?

Stomach stitch. Getting worse.

It's the "so hot they're famous" category that will pit booty-tacular Kardashian (pictured) against bi-curiouser Tequila (take a stab at this this from whatever angle you see fit -- go ahead, start anywhere). Other match-ups include Summer Glau (Fox's just-renewed drama "The Sarah Connor Chronicles") vs. Milla Jovovich ("Resident Evil") as "fiercest female," Jason Bourne vs. Iron Man to see who's the "biggest ass kicker," and Brian Austin Green vs. Rhys Ifans as the "luckiest bastard" because they're dating, respectively, Megan Fox and Sienna Miller.

The cable channel will thaw out Hugh Hefner for the occasion and work in an obligatory appearance from Pam Anderson and anyone else in dire need of a career boost propelled by slobbery guys.

Show date: June 22, but you can vote here now, in case you have particularly strong feelings about who really should be crowned the "ballsiest band."

Not even going to ask what that award looks like.

Filet of soul

Saturday afternoons filled with hours upon hours of kung fu movies and "Soul Train." That was livin' large.

Forgive us for waxing a little nostalgic this morning, but we felt a rush of love for all things '70s (well, not the avocado green appliances or macrame wall hangings) and a twinge of angst when we realized, by reading of the death of the Soul Train Awards after a 21-year run, that those days are long gone.

This being an awards blog and all, it would stand to reason that we'd be unabashedly pro-awards show. Not so. There are plenty of these long-winded bombastic self-congratulatory fests that have absolutely no reason to be. You know who you are, MTV's "Real World Awards 'Extravaganza.' "

And because most stars didn't bother to show up anymore, even when they won, the Soul Train Awards unfortunately fell into that category after having flourished in its early years. The reasons are complicated and involve, but aren't limited to, the rise of hip-hop, the fall of traditional R&B, violent feuds between rappers, "VH1 Divas" and who knows what else. There's some considerable chatter today about the whole sitch over on Prince.org.

The awards show, as lame as it had become, was our last link to the "Soul Train" of our youth, when we visited weekly with cucumber-cool Don Cornelius (pictured, with Aretha Franklin) at the best dance party we'd ever seen. The show ended its syndicated run in 2006, but its heyday in the '70s and '80s will be forever etched in our brains (and flailing limbs).

We're going to pause now to put on some Teddy Pendergrass and curse the passing of time. Thank god for vinyl.

Rock skate

Who says god-awful movies can't have a second -- much more successful -- life in some other medium?

Case in point: "Xanadu," a giant disco craptacular to the tune of Electric Light Orchestra (with mimes!) that starred Olivia Newton-John and post-"Warriors" Michael Beck has gone on to become a Broadway show worthy of Tony Award consideration.

Says Variety:

Ancient Greek mythology turned out to be much more fun on roller skates.

And how!

We'd already noticed a resurgence of interest in the 1980 Razzie-winning bomb, with back-to-back-to-back references in a few short days around Academy Awards time. We don't want to jinx anything, but we're really thinking remake now, since there seems to be an increasing ping-pong effect between the Great White Way and Hollywood.

The upcoming theater honors have other movies on the brain, too, says Variety, with "Cry-Baby" (featuring some creative re-teaming from the hit "Hairspray" -- the play, not the movie, or the remake of the movie) getting its foot in the Tony door without even opening yet. Now that's good awards buzz.

Sex after 70

Don't look now, it's Geezer Love!

Are we the only ones slightly grossed out (OK, a lot grossed out) about the prospect of a movie based on 70-somethings in the throes of passion? We'll probably change our minds when we arrive at those golden years, but for now, pardon us, ick!

Oscar winner Jack Nicholson, by way of the AARP magazine (tagline: "80 is the new 60!") by way of this morning's Scriptland column, says such a topic is dear to his and his geriatric friends' hearts.

A former scriptwriter himself (don't even say you haven't seen "Head," an acid trip starring the Monkees), Nicholson doesn't discount the possibility of penning such a feature -- a mature movie, let's call it -- to capture the "silent yearnings" of that age group.

In an industry where people are washed up and over the hill at 40 (the women anyway), maybe it's not such a bad idea to create more starring vehicles, and romantic ones at that, with some titans of the silver screen. Nicholson himself?

Suggestions, anybody? Or did we drive you and your delicate stomach away with this one? That angina's a bitch.

Swift and sure

For all her smarts, marketing savvy and triple-platinum sales, Taylor Swift still seems to be genuinely surprised when her name is called at awards shows. How refreshing.

The 18-year-old Southern singer-songwriter took a pair of heavy-duty prizes at last night's "CMT Music Awards," after having won a breakthrough artist award there the year before. If you'll recall, and you might, she was nominated for a Grammy earlier this year, but lost out to neo-soul chanteuse Amy Winehouse. No shame there.

Swift won Video of the Year and Female Video of the Year for "Our Song," from her self-titled debut album. And if you're not yet jealous of this young overachiever, check this out:

"I wrote that song in the ninth grade for a talent show."

For a full report of last night's awards, ("American Idol" alum Kellie Pickler took home a couple trophies, too), go here.

And if you're a real Swift fan, or could become one, look here for a good profile.

Hot Mama

By Ray Richmond

Tina Fey was all of 5 years old when "Saturday Night Live" premiered in 1975, but as we ride through 2008, both Tina and "SNL" are equally smoldering. Well, OK, maybe not equally. Fey is probably hotter right now than any comedy actress I can recall in the past 20 years. And that's with a TV comedy series ("30 Rock") that isn't even a bonafide hit yet as far as the ratings and a feature ("Baby Mama") that doesn't premiere until April 25. This is to take nothing away from such ladies of laughter as Ellen DeGeneres and Sarah Silverman, but they somewhat pale beside the imminent mainstream explosion that's about to greet Fey -- particularly if "Baby Mama" (which co-stars "SNL's" Amy Poehler) hits a home run, or even a ground-rule double.

There she is, looking like a '40s ingenue on the cover of this week's Entertainment Weekly. She is neither beautiful nor unattractive but spectacularly all-American. Behind her mischievous eyes lurks a cool-as-a-cucumber smart-ass. We also know she's smart, a great writer who honed her chops in the weekly pressure-cooker that is "SNL." Her style is at once adorable and effortlessly charming. But here's the thing about Fey that really sets her apart: everyone seems to love and respect her. Good luck trying to find someone who thinks she's irritating or phony. She has managed to embody both likeability and a veneer of hip, which is no small feat.

If "Baby Mama" becomes a hit and Fey is able to carry a big-screen comedy to the bank, there will simply be no stopping her growing into comedy's Next Big Thing (if she hasn't already).

""Tina's the real thing," observes Lorne Michaels, the "SNL" creator/exec producer, "30 Rock" exec producer and "Baby Mama producer who has played an obvious key role in shepherding Fey to the comedy Promised Land. "We're hoping that 'Baby Mama' will have the same impact on Tina's career, and on '30 Rock,' that 'The 40-Year-old Virgin' had on fueling Steve Carell and 'The Office.' It's only a matter of time before Tina hits really big. And the same is true of '30 Rock,' I have to believe."

And why hasn't Fey's talent yet catapulted her to true mass popularity as of yet?