Ask the Answer B!tch

By: Lee, New York

A.B. Replies: Probably door number one--but only probably.

Talent managers this B!tch contacted quickly voted for singing actors as being far, far worse than the vicey-versey. Images of a ropey Juliette Lewis, sweating into her electric-colored Xanadu-wear while screeching out a tortured cover of "Sweet Child of Mine" through a spaghetti-wet Leif Garrett shag will pretty much tip the polls every time. Especially given that plenty of musicians, including Ice-T, Method Man, Cher, Eminem and Fiddy have transitioned to acting with a modicum of grace.

But this B!tch isn't entirely sold on this belief. Not after watching Justin Timberlake blow like a Roomba through the Sundance Film Festival last month, hoovering up luxury freebies and jiving his way through interviews with the 5 p.m. entertainment shows, all to promote his new life as an actor. During a sojourn at one swag suite, Jerry Penacoli asked Timberlake how he liked working with squeeze Cameron Diaz in the upcoming Shrek 3. Timberlake replied, "It's nice."

In Park City, Timberlake also hit the slopes, picked up a free pair of $30,000 Nefarious aviator shades and lobbied to get a second pair for Diaz--and oh yeah: He did some talking and stuff about Alpha Dog, his first serious film role.

The flick opens sometime this year and features Timberlake as Frankie Ballenbacher, a drug dealer's henchman. The respected Nick Cassavetes directed it, and buzz has it that Timberlake may even make a good long-term addition to the acting pantheon. But no one is really sure. Timberlake was too busy snowboarding to give anyone much of a clue.

His sad priorities at the film fest (whack, y'all, as JC Chasez might say) tend to make this B!tch loathe acting singers more than singing actors. But this B!tch appears to be alone.

Take veteran talent manager and publicist Jo-Ann Geffen, who works with Diana DeGarmo--the Broadway-bound American Idol runner-up--and singer-actor-former-teen-titan David Cassidy. Geffen points out that when singers want to be screen legends, they get a lot of help: acting coaches, helpful castmates, directors willing to shoot multiple takes. The end result, usually, is a product at least somewhat tolerable to the masses, Justin Guarini and Mariah Carey notwithstanding.

"You get a whole team of people making sure you look good," Geffen explains.

Not so with singing actors, who tend to gravitate toward live "rock" performances in front of whatever teen victims they can lure into the Viper Room. No second takes here, no sir.

Ever hear Bruce Willis or Dennis Quaid or Keanu Reeves perform a set somewhere on the Sunset Strip? No, you haven't. Because if you had, you'd be away, far away from your computer, packing your bleeding ears with gauze and shaking your fist at the mighty heavens and screaming, "Twenty five whole dollars for a ticket! Why, for the love of all that is sacred, why?"

"Most of the time" with singing actors, Geffen says, "you just get these people with a rock band behind them, giving everyone a headache."