Say it ain't so! Are Reese Witherspoon 'n' Ryan Phillippe reworkin' their rocky romance, or is all the get-back-together hoopla 'bout as real as T. Casablanca's love for G. Bush? Plus, we size up T-town's hairy sitch, one quasi cutie at a time, 'n' weigh in on Tom Cruise's new Nazi stint. Plus, Paris dishes about dressing up and Blind Vice Friday takes everything off!!
Don’t know about you, babes, but my peeper always perks for Reese Witherspoon. Adore her. From Legally Blonde and her Oscar-winning job as June Carter Cash in Walk the Line to having the nerve to hook up with a heartbreaker like Ryan Phillippe, this is a gal who knows how to strut her chica cojones, fer sure. (And I don’t simply feel this way because she calls me “Mr. Casablanca.” That’s simply a southern thang, trust.)
And as you may have heard from my canoodling colleagues at Page Six, the rumors are certainly out there that the blondie exes are, perhaps, trying their hands at reconciliation.
Rang up some mutual buds R and I have. Was adamantly told by one amiga: “100 percent not true,” about the possible reunion stuff. But I must tell you, this close Witherspoon camper was the only direct dissenter I could find to the going-it-again talk. Others also quite gabby with R and R told me:
“Reese and Ryan have been secretly dating and working through problems they should have worked out before they broke up,” one R2 hanger-on whispered to moi. “They go through a lot of trouble to make sure they aren't seen together on dates.”
Near divorcés going on a date! How do I love that one! Don’t tell me R ’n’ R are going to be the Liz ’n’ Dick of our time now that Bennifer didn’t make it, eh?
Press reps for both Rs had no comment.
In any case, all this potentially surreptitious suck-face stuff would certainly make sense as to why the rags are making such a big thing outta Reese’s friendship with Jake Gyllenhaal, who, ’course, is just an amigo to R.W. After all, why look for any comings and goings with the soon-scheduled-to-be-former Mr. Witherspoon if everybody and his checkout-stand correspondent is so damn hot on the trail of that never-was affair? Stay tuned to this espionage-worthy ex sitch, ’kay?
As long as we’re gabbin’ on dudes like J. Gyllenhaal and other questionably coiffed cuties, let’s make a thang of it, ’kay? But let’s start with the biggest bouffant of ’em all:
• Tom Cruise is makin’ ’em laugh—albeit for all the wrong reasons—those who are assigned the daunting task of preparing the mass consumption of one of the man’s as yet unreleased pics were heard guffawing recently. “He is beyond marketing,” they were heard sighing/screaming in unison. This coulda been a good thing, Tommy C, but somehow I doubt it.
• Anthony Perkins, perhaps, could help the Katie Holmes-hitched hon above, not sure. Here’s an idea: Charles Winecoff is busy as we cybergoss preparing the screenplay to his highly weird and mucho successful A.P. biography, Split Image. I swear, if Mr. Cruise—whom I’m dying to see win an Oscar, no joke—doesn’t do something fast and play somebody all creepy and evil-esque like Perkins, then he’ll never get that damn statuette. Feel like pulling a few fruit-cellar scenes, T.C.?
AP Photo/Studio Babelsberg AG, Frank Connor,HO
• T. Cruise, 'course, is playing a Nazi in his latest flick, Valkyrie. And I hear all you Tom-ites screaming in unison, saying that’s pretty sinister. Hardly! And get real. Tom looks far more Village People than villainous in that uniform getup.
Albert L Ortega/WireImage.com
• Ben Affleck can now officially retire from my Stink-O List as No. 1 Turd Tulip. After recent performances in films too unfortunate to mention, the man has come into his own. He can now leave the ghosts of J.Lo and Gigli permanently behind him, as far as I’m concerned. Just saw his second directorial effort, Gone Baby Gone, and it’s pretty good. Very edgy. Dark, gritty, (mostly) sharply acted and gripping. It’s the story of badasses in Boston who are even worse than you first thought. Wonder what made him think of that storyline?
• Ethan Hawke, on the other film-following hand, replaces Affleck as the numero uno stinker on that compilation I just mentioned. Also happened to catch Hawke’s upcoming release, The Hottest State, about...I don’t know what, exactly. A horny dude finding himself? Who the ef knows? Why some film companies think it's compelling to see het guys masturbating all over the screen with angst about women they never really had any intention of being with in the first place is beyond me. Sound familiar, Uma? I’m sure it does.
• Russell Crowe, even though I think the trailer looks abysmally boring, is supposed to be superhot stuff in 3:10 to Yuma, that western psycho number coming out soon. And some studio peeps pulling for the temper-prone prick ain’t dumb. They insist R.C.’s performance is Oscar worthy (I’ll believe it when I see it), but they also know more than a few Academy members are hugely put off by the Aussie’s punch-throwing tantrums. So the moviemakers, I hear, are planning to submit Crowe in the infinitely more humble-butt department of Best Supporting Actor. Brills, babes, simply brills!
• And Elvis, since it’s your week, let me say, miss ya, loved ya, you certainly deserve all the anniversary accolades you’re getting, but don’t ever come back, please! Hope you really are dead, hon! That is, unless you’ve decided not to be a racist anymore. People don’t really talk about that aspect of your colorful character, do they? Nope, they don’t.