Bizz Buzz

There are movies you see for the plot, and movies you see for the cast. For me, “Did you hear about the Morgans?” new rom-com starring Sarah Jessica Parker and Hugh Grant was the latter. Who cares about the silly premise (a high-powered Manhattan couple rediscover their romance after they relocate to the Wild West) when those two superstars are involved? Not this girl. Off I went to the film’s Monday night premiere to find out just how much fun they had making it.



“It was wonderful,” gushed stunning SJP, clad in black confection by hot new designer Sophie Theallet. “I loved working with Hugh, I loved the director. It was just a really nice way to spend 4 months.”
Indeed, who would object to spending a few months with Hugh Grant? Certainly not Mary Steenburgen, who portrays “a rough-riding, bad guy-catching, rifle-shooting Western woman” in the film.



“Hugh and I had a little giggling problem,” revealed Steenburgen, with hubby Ted Danson by her side. “I don’t know what happened, but we brought out the worst in each other.”

If the Santa Fe set of the film sounds like it was all fun and games –that’s because it was. According to Kim Shaw, the adorable up-and-coming actress who spends much of the film in cut-off shorts and a cowboy hat, the cast “played lots of games off set, like 'Running Charades' Mary Steenburgen’s favorite!”

Jesse Leibman, who makes his big-screen debut as Hugh Grant’s assistant, even told me that famous funnyman Bill Murray “crashed” the film’s New York set one night. But for all the cast’s merrymaking, they had some serious praise for the leading lady. “I found Sarah Jessica to be genuinely enchanting,” cooed Grant, oozing his trademark British charm. “She was very kind to me, very supportive. She nurtured me, and was always nice about the clothes I was wearing.”



If it seemed that Grant suffered from the same problem I do –thinking of SJP and her alter ego, the clotheshorse Carrie Bradshaw, as one in the same –who could blame either of us? For there was her “Sex and the City” comrade Cynthia Nixon dashing down the red carpet in a Miranda-worthy Armani frock, and… wait, is that Kim Catrall? Holy Manolos – it was!



And before my very eyes, SJP bumped right into Catrall, pulled her in for an affectionate hug, and let out her signature Carrie squeal –all the while I stood there wondering, why would anyone ever want to leave this city? Stuff this good only happens in Manhattan.

-Linley Taber
Entertainment Editor: Lori Bizzoco

Showroom Dummies

As long as I can remember, I’ve watched Saturday Night Live. Not ‘cause it’s consistently funny or even worthwhile. I’m just a loyal consumer.

Then sometimes a TV show can take a fatal, ridiculous turn, and it becomes forever dead to me. I’m looking at you, Grey’s Anatomy, or “Postal Service Hospital: the O.C./ER,” I call it. I was never really invested, aside from my girlhood love for Patrick Dempsey, but my friends watched it, so I figured what the hell. But the moment that chick from Sideways was impaled with the fallen icicle I forever turned my back on those philandering doctors. I like preposterous tripe, but that was way too much.

I’m like this with lots of stuff: film directors, sushi bars, dudes. I’m a Scorpio: Loyal to a fault, so when shit gets super-fucked, it usually spells curtains for us. Some may call this behavior “vindictive,” or “petty,” but, you know what? Fuck those guys! They’re dead to me, too.

These days, Old Navy’s number one with a bullet on the Dead-to-Me List. The cheap-but-on-occasion-cute clothing chain’s latest “Super Modelquins” campaign features a rag tag bunch of stiff yet racially diverse ON mannequins who get engaged, lose their fingers, have leg tattoos of former lovers and suffer morning sickness all the while dressed in affordable resort wear. Each commercial plays like a soap opera serial that pits the ‘quins in dramatic situations I’d barely care about if the people in question were actual humans. I mean, who gives if Josh can’t choose between Kelly and Heather? First of all, Kelly and Heather look exactly alike. And Josh is a fucking eunuch. Why would Kelly or Heather even want to vie for his fake plastic love in the first place?

Old Navy’s launched True Hollywood Story spoofs about the origin of the Super Modelquins on YouTube. They’re on display in all Old Navy storefronts. Shoppers are encouraged to snap photos with Kelly, sporting a bold Old Navy tankini for only $24.99. Or obligatory black modelquin, mother of two Michelle, summer ready in her Old Navy town gown. Town gown? Really? As if calling them “maxi dresses” last year wasn’t enough.

Previous O.N. ads featured Morgan Fairchild and the late Carrie Donovan, bespectacled fashion doyenne of the New York Times, kitsching about in performance fleece. The spots were corny and charming. Not that I’d ever wear performance anything, but my closet floors have been known to be littered with an occasional Old Navy cotton dress. Until, you know, the ‘quins came to town.

Maybe I’d like ‘em more if the Super Modelquins were magical and came to life, like Pygmalion’s beloved statue in Greek mythology, Andrew McCarthy’s beloved Kim Cattrall in the 1987 movie Mannequin, or Jodie the window display designer’s be-hatted Jeff from creepy 1980’s Canadian children’s show Today’s Special.

Yeah, I’d probably budge on my boycott if that happened. Because being a true blue Scorpio, my vindictiveness is only matched by my willingness to forgive.

–Megan Metzger