In the four and a half years they’d been business partners, and friends of a sort, Penske and Finke had never met in person, even during the pre-sale courtship. On this day of mediation, though, when they left around 5 p.m., there was a mix-up, and Finke and Penske exited the building at the same time. Suddenly, they found themselves face-to-face for the first time.
With the exception of this photo from The Daily—which she and others insisted was not her—Finke has not been photographed in public in years, and it would seem that it’s a testament to her power that TMZ or some other paparazzi-friendly outlet hasn’t published a better picture. And it’s kind of a stunning fact that Penske, who paid Finke millions for her site, had never even seen her until they went to court recently. As Wallace points out, she’s a character that only Hollywood could have dreamt up.
For years, the relationship between Vanity Fair and Hollywood was like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers: the magazine gave the movie business class and Hollywood gave Vanity Fair sex.
But even the best relationships can hit a rough patch. Recently, Vanity Fair has toughened its coverage of Hollywood with articles about the troubles plaguing the making of Brad Pitt’s movie “World War Z” and the intrusiveness of Scientology in Tom Cruise’s romantic life and marriage to Katie Holmes.
Some celebrities and their handlers, accustomed to more control over coverage, are not pleased. In May, Gwyneth Paltrow, who recently cooperated on cover articles for People and Good Housekeeping, asked friends not to deal with Vanity Fair.
“Vanity Fair is threatening to put me on the cover of their magazine,” Ms. Paltrow wrote by e-mail, according to someone who had seen the message. “If you are asked for quotes or comments, please decline. Also, I recommend you all never do this magazine again.”
Hollywood is mad Vanity Fair isn’t coddling celebs anymore (via NYT)
Author and film critic Ty Burr talks to Terry Gross about how our understanding and treatment of movie stars has changed with the advent of the internet:
Movie stars as we understand in the classic movie stars are, in a way, on the wane. I don’t think the main stream … American film industry sells us stars the way they used to and they don’t sell movies with stars. They sell movies based on franchises: popular book franchises like Twilight or Harry Potter, on special effects, on comic book heroes. Those are what audiences pay to see. They don’t necessarily go to see [a movie] because Tom Cruise … or Ryan Gosling is in it. … I think the whole culture has changed in the sense that we almost don’t need classic movie stars in the way we used to because the Internet allows us to manufacture our own personas in many, many different ways. … So what happens to the classic movie star in this scenario? They become lesser in value. They become mocked. The famous Tom Cruise-Oprah couch scene is still playing at a YouTube channel near you. I mean, it will be there forever. Twenty years ago it would have been fodder for a week of late night jokes and forgotten, but now it’s proof that we have a certain power over these people that used to have power over us.
Image of the Harry Potter Potion Room at the Harry Potter Studio Tour by Mark Lynham
Another thing she requested was a pineapple milkshake, so Max brought one from Emack and Bolio’s, made from fresh pineapple. But as far as my mother was concerned, a milkshake is one thing that’s actually better with crushed pineapple. Dole.
“When I get out of the hospital, I’m going to go home and I’m going to make a pineapple milkshake with crushed pineapple, pineapple juice and vanilla ice cream, and I’m going to drink it and I’m going to die,” she said, savoring the last word. “It’s going to be great.”
On this day, I told her some things. After she moved to her bed, I said that sometimes, I thought of the possibility of her not being around and wondered if I’d ever be able to write again. If I’d even want to. And she told me that I would, that I would find it within me, and that whatever happened, she hoped my brother and I would lead the kind of lives where we did stuff big enough to occasionally say, “Wow, I wish Mom was around for this.”
We stared out at the 59th Street Bridge and tried to remember all the others that connect Manhattan to the rest of the world. The Brooklyn Bridge. The Williamsburg Bridge, the Queensboro Bridge, the Triboro Bridge. We got about halfway before she began to doze off.