Cash poor, remake rich

 

Not only did the writer's strike thoroughly disrupt Hollywood's back-slapping season and nearly (fully?) derail the Oscars, it cost $2.1 billion (with a b) and caused the recession!

That's according to a report issued yesterday from the not-normally-hysterical Milken Institute, whose researchers say that the fallout from the 100-day strike will continue through the year as people watch their nickels and struggle to get back on their feet post-work stoppage.

There's some dispute from other numbers crunchers about the total dollars-and-cents damage, and whether the WGA is really responsible for throwing California's economy into the toilet. Mortgage meltdown anyone?

But everyone seems to agree that if SAG doesn't work things out, we're all in a heap o' trouble. And that's way worse than a cancelled Vanity Fair party.

Audrey Hepburn was loverly too and she couldn't sing either. Word's circulating today that Keira Knightley is in talks for the lead role in the classic Lerner and Loewe musical "My Fair Lady."

Columbia Pictures is set to remake (re-imagine, re-envision, whatever they're calling it these days) the story with generous helpings of the original George Bernard Shaw play "Pygmalion" and Alan Jay Lerner's book from the 1956 Broadway play.

Perhaps better known than either of those is the gorgeously filmed musical from 1963 that was nominated for a dozen Oscars (it won eight, including best director -- George Cukor -- best film and best actor -- Rex Harrison).

The best news: the updated version won't really be updated. It'll be set in the original 1912 and filmed in the original London settings, where Knightley (if the deal's sealed) will be heard to holler the immortal phrase, "Move your blooming arse" at Ascot instead of the Warner Bros. backlot where the other feature was filmed.

Can't wait.

Power to the peeps

Think there's no room at the Oscars for a regular Johnny Lunchbucket like you? Think again.

Not long ago, while the Academy and the show producers were still flailing about with Plans B, C, and D, in case the writers strike continued and pickets threatened to strip the stars from the telecast, some salt of the Earth folk offered to do their part to keep the party going.

In a Q&A with Oscar bigwigs Gil Cates and Bruce Davis, THR's Ray Richmond tried without success to squeeze any new tidbits out of the pair. But he found out something fascinating when he asked if tourists and random passersby would be grabbed off Hollywood Boulevard to be part of a strike-plagued show.

"Well, you're joking, Davis said, "but it was kind of fun when we'd thought about using presenters from other walks of life. You have no idea how many people sent us very formal letters and e-mails asking if they could serve as presenters on the show."

"They were dead serious. We're talking about people who described themselves as simple fans who loved movies. We got inquiries from actors, fans, young kids. They were like, you know, 'I've always loved Daniel Day-Lewis and seen all of his movies and would be honored to present the award in his category.'"

Turns out this isn't the only (faux) way in to this most auspicious of events (are you listening, Paris?)

Let's all chant -- Bruuuuuce!

So, everyone can stop worrying about the Oscars. You know, whether they're happening or not and whether there will be an expressionist dance number set to the eerie neo-Western "No Country" soundtrack.

Bruce Vilanch can't relax, though -- just the opposite. He and a couple of writer colleagues have written the Oscar show for decades, but never under the current circumstances. As he tells Scriptland today, putting the telecast together in 12 days has its up and downside. Orders from show producer Gil Cates?

"I believe the word was 'fast.'"

That would be one of the negatives, along with the fact that the husky writer figures his picket-induced walking-in-circles weight loss will cease now.

On the plus side? Less time before the show means less political wrangling and hierarchical hissy fits. That would be good.

Check out the full interview here.

Pencils up

The 100-day writers strike is officially over (and there was much rejoicing!) though it's tough to say that pencils ever really were down, if you count all the blogging, essays and op-ed pieces that appeared regularly on the Interwebs, in magazines, fliers, skits, wild postings, newspapers and any other available real estate.

Not that these will be the last such dispatches from the front line -- also known as, what we did on our winter "vacation" -- but a crop of first-person stories that ran in this morning's editorial section of the L.A. Times recount tales of vacuum-packed premium beef delivered by mail, infections (of all types) from the rigors of picketing, and semi-naked "Guitar Hero III" thrashing. And a haiku!

Worth a look.

Good day for writers

Reasons to work on a postcard-perfect 72-and-sunny Sunday in Los Angeles? Let us count them, quickly, and then get back to the hammock. 1) the strike could be over and 2) "The Wire" won an award. We mean, "The Wire" won an award!!

Our well-placed source -- that would be the Magic 8 Ball on our bookshelf next to the Homer Simpson and pile o' doughnuts "action" figure -- said, "Ask again later," when we looked for writers strike guidance the other day. Now, it says, "All signs point to yes."

Nearly $2 billion in lost wages and ad dollars later, looks like it's done. Check here for the latest and here to see video of writers after Saturday night's meeting in L.A.

Oscars? Producers said they needed at least two weeks with a writing staff. Is somebody going to start churning out witty bon mots for the presenters today? Magic 8 Ball says: "still undecided." Maybe we just need to shake it harder.

After the jump: WGA West gives a much-deserved award to the much-lauded and terminally-ignored HBO drama, "The Wire," which stars Clarke Peters and Dominic West (pictured) along with about a million other brilliant actors.

Battle royale

Isn't everyone getting tired of writing the phrase "cautious optimism?" Well, we can't tuck that one away just yet, as we're facing a weekend of strike-related confabs.

At least one person isn't counting his chickens and he's advising his colleagues-in-arms to refrain from doing so either. Joss Whedon (pictured), a WGA and DGA member, wonders if the guild is suffering from Stockholm syndrome, or whatever mind-distorting condition results from walking endlessly in circles for three months and counting.

Whedon has some poignant and pointed commentary, especially as the rush to end this seems to hinge on The Big Show:

"We're fighting (fighting, remember?) for the future of our union, our profession, our art. If that fight carries us through the Holy Night when Oscar was born, that's just too bad."

Read his thoughts on our brother blog, Past Deadline, along with Ray Richmond's vision of a ticker tape parade to a mashup of "Here Comes the Sun," "Money" and "Kumbaya." In his dreams.

Double downer

We hate to be such a downer -- we really are pie-eyed optimists, generally, or at the very least, glass-half-full kinda folk -- but there are a few bits of unpleasant news to share today.

Amy "Stash in my Beehive" Winehouse won't make it to the Grammys after all, depriving us of some sorely needed tension and suspense for Sunday night's show. After not being able to secure a travel visa to the U.S., the rehabbing soul songstress will reportedly keep abstaining from her potentially lethal habits, unless you count that jail visit to Husband of the Year Blake Fielder-Civil. (She's pictured here leaving one of his court hearings recently). Her gain, our loss.

The Oscars are running out of time. Out of time, ya hear? That's the somewhat desperate sounding message today from Academy president Sid Ganis, who was sounding so much more certain and so much less harried just a few days ago. Per Variety, he asked the WGA again Monday afternoon for a waiver for The Big Show. He's still waiting, and sweating.

We promise to dig up sunnier subjects for at least the next few hours.

After the apocalypse

It's set to be a big weekend in Los Angeles, and not just because Flo Rida will be on stage with about a hundred of his closest friends at the Avalon.

The WGA West has called a Saturday night tent revival at the Shrine (it's actually called an "informational meeting" but that just sounds so deadly dull). Members are freed up because they'd already ditched their own awards show on that night. (Winners will be announced by press release, speaking of deadly dull). WGA East will be holding a similar get together on the other coast.

Before anyone imagines that the strike's done, guild negotiator John Bowman says this:

"Regardless of what you hear or read, there are many significant points that have yet to be worked out."

Raise the roof...where?

Mortgage meltdown! Healthcare crisis! Writers strike! Oscar shindigs canceled! Wait, Oscar shindigs canceled?!

Aside from the just passed Super Tuesday primaries -- Huckabee? Really? -- it's what everyone is talking about today. No Vanity Fair soiree, and ditto for Entertainment Weekly's annual raise-the-roofer. What gives?

Here's what Vanity Fair has to say, on the eve of the release of its already heavily circulated Hollywood-centric twiggy-actress-laden issue:

"After much consideration, and in support of the writers and everyone else affected by this strike, we have decided that this is not the appropriate year to hold our annual Oscar party. We want to congratulate all of this year’s nominees and we look forward to hosting our 15th Oscar party next year."

The yearly rite is known as the creme de la creme, bringing out Hollywood's brightest. Even Scorsese showed up last year (pictured), clutching his first Oscar for directing "The Departed."

Official backslapping, plus a sweatshirt!

The official backslapping has officially begun.

While Sid Ganis continues to perfect his There Will Be Oscars song and dance routine -- a prelude to his performance at the actual show, Plan D? -- the nominees joshed, bussed and beamed yesterday in Beverly Hills.

Best actor and director contenders rubbed elbows with sound mixers, editors and composers. Though no one air-kissed Daniel Day-Lewis, Johnny Depp, Cate Blanchett, Tom Wilkinson or Saoirse Ronin, who were among a handful of no-shows.

Kodak moments included: Ambassador Clooney clowning around, Julian Schnabel in slob chic, Ellen Page in prison chic, Marion Cotillard (pictured) in just plain chic, and Jason Reitman with proud papa/mentor/key to the kingdom in tow.

All that, plus a "nomination certificate and commemorative sweatshirt." Now that's an event. Check the jump for the "class photo" of all the nominees and, fair warning, magnifier required.