Supple Couples (and Threesomes!)

Who’s raising backstage boudoir eyebrows at the Oscars? Travolta? Swinton? Jamie Lynn Spears?! Hey, it isn't George Clooney, for a friggin’ change, although Clooney-kisser Daniel Day-Lewis might beg to differ. Plus, Reese Witherspoon is illin’ while James McAvoy is so thrillin’!

“Maybe it’s extraordinary that we’re all friends.”

—Cat-and-mouse Best Supporting Actress winner Tilda Swinton, to yours truly backstage at the 80th Annual Academy Awards, after the black-Grecian-gown-clad gal (who has a boyfriend and another partner with whom she has kids) answered my query of whether or not her sensational private life fed the professional one

That bitch tortured my ass, I’ll tell ya. Not even Diablo Cody, who won for writing Juno, evaded my more salacious queries so well—and Diablo did damn fine. For ince, when I asked the Best Original Screenplay winner why people endorsed her teen-pregnancy film so zealously while essentially leaving Jamie Lynn Spears to burn in tabloid hell, D, in all her tatted glory, sassed, “I can only talk about one pregnant woman at a time."

But Swinton is the real pro here. “You’ve got a lotta loving at home,” I pretty obviously winked to the redheaded babe. “I have, yeah,” she replied. “How do you know that?” I told the Michael Clayton madam that reporters from Great Britain were calling me about her most spectacular mattress arrangement. “That’s great,” she deadpanned. “They weren’t calling me.”

Swinton ended the affair, as it were, by stating: “I have children with someone else, with whom I’m bringing up my children. And I’ve lived with someone else, my sweetheart, for the last three years.” And just at that very awkward moment, it was announced backstage that La Vie en Rose’s Marion Cotillard pulled an upset win for Best Actress, causing Swinton, wrists glistening in sparkly stuff, to gloat, “You see what I’m saying about Europe?”

Yeah, that you all can have as many kooky, fabulous, weirdo Britney Spears ups and downs just as well as we can, only with less mess.

Oh, which reminds me of three things: Asked Cody, if she were to write bizarro Brit’s life story, what would she call it? “I’m not gonna kick her when she’s down,” D.C. responded, which, I’m not sure is the title or not. Harrison Ford was very bitchy with Calista Flockhart—somethin’ up there, you rebel twosome? Sure seems so. And Johnny Travolta, all night at the big show, just could not keep his hands off his wife’s ass, can you imagine! At the Oscars! J.T., what are you thinking with such public displays of lustful actions?

Johnny-baby, by the by, picked out his wife-unit’s dress. Why am I not surprised? More loosely threaded Oscar gab tomorrow, babes. Read on for something pre big-O, first, s'il vous plaît.

We checked out a modern-day fairy tale, and no, we ain’t talkin’ about Lance Bass’ wild WeHo weekends. We sized up the scene at the Penelope premiere, noses high in the air just like the flick’s pig-snouted protagonist, Christina Ricci. And what better way to promote a movie about beauty on the inside than to get people who are beautiful on the outside to talk about it?

Or not talk about it. Ms. Aw-Shucks Nice herself, Reese Witherspoon, showed up for some fine photo ops in her cute, casual and coordinated clothes, but her publicist wanted everyone to know Ree-Ree (who starred in and produced the pic) was sicky-poo and wouldn’t be talking to anyone. Ill, mon derriere! Girl just doesn’t want to answer any dang Jake questions. Wither-babe graciously gabbed to two camera outlets and jumped out of sight to mingle with the crowd of premiere partyers, ya know, just like an unwell woman is wont to do.

Rising star James McAvoy showed some healing love for Reese, though unforch not the same amour he showed for Keira up against a bookcase in Atonement. “Reese being the boss as well as being one of the stars, it’s not a job I would take on in a million years," he said. "But I have so much respect for her, because she manages to juggle those things.” Apparently not too well—girl got “too sick” to adequately promote her own flick.

James claims his fairy-tale flick has “real dilemmas and real issues and realish people. There’s nothing wrong with High School Musical, but we aren’t all just idealized and perfect.” J.M. obvs doesn’t read up on the tween mags, 'cause every Zac Efron fan out there would sure beg to differ with him on that.

So, what has the Scotsman learned from working in H-town? Apparently squat, since he delightfully declared, “I’ve never worked in Hollywood!” Sure sounds relieved to be spared the saga of starring in studio films. Don’t hold your breath, Jamie, you and your dreamboat eyes will prolly star as the next big studmuffin superhero, trust.

Back to the theme of inner beauty (can you Botox your inner organs yet?), what makes someone simply stunning to diminutive darling Ricci? “Empathy, kindness...and when someone is happy, they’re generally pretty good-lookin’, too.” You must be head over heels, hon, cause you couldn’t stop smiling the whole damn time. Could it be your new Aussie actor b-f, Kick Gurry, who has put such a spring in your slurp?

Dear Ted:
Lindsay Lohan's puffy, white, freckled ass on New York magazine. Gross! How dare she compare her loser self to the late, great M. Monroe. The only thing they have in common is an addiction problem. What is up with these mothers who say it's okay for their daughters to pose nude? Is this really going to help her career?
  Margot
  Texas

Dear Maternally Mad:
Whose career, darlin’, Lindsay’s or Dina’s?