Mickey Mouse… I am your father
In one of the biggest, nay some might say galactically important, stories of the week, it was announced that George Lucas has sold his beloved Lucasfilms to Disney.
For the tidy sum of more than $US 4 BILLION dollars, the deal includes the release of a reported 3 new Star Wars films, starting with Episode 7 in 2015.
Now I know a lot of Princess Leia puritans are horrified by the idea, but why? I’ve never seen any Disney production that’s remotely half-assed, and if anything, I think the respect & devotion they will bring to the brand can only be a good thing.
Think about it – Disney has given us such beloved characters as Aladdin & the Genie, Timon & Pumbaa, Ariel & Sebastian - not to mention the iconic Mickey Mouse. George Lucas gave us Jar-Jar Binks.
I rest my case.
Disney is re-establishing itself as THE Hollywood powerbroker, first with their acquisition of Pixar Animation in 2006, followed by Marvel Entertainment in 2009. You know Marvel, that little mob responsible for that sleeper hit of 2012, The Avengers.
So I’m pretty sure neither Pixar nor Marvel took a dive after these deals with Disney were done.
The question now becomes – who could, or should, take over the director’s chair for the upcoming Star Wars movies?
Even those most loyal & diehard fans would have to admit that George Lucas was possibly not the greatest choice to bring us the prequels. Jar-Jar Binks, remember??
An even bigger question is: will they be prequels or sequels? Will any of the original cast make an appearance?? So long as it’s not some Space Cowboys knock off, where an ailing Han Solo shuffles around the Millennium Falcon with a cane & a hearing aid, yelling, “What, Chewie?? WHAT??!” I’m saying bring it on.
For this girl that bowed down to the Yoda statue at the Lucasfilm headquarters & cried watching the fireworks & Disneyland (don’t you judge me), I look forward to whatever this new partnership brings. Because something or someone needs to atone for Jar-Jar.
I mean FFS, what was with that voice?!
Cry Me a River
Something that caught my eye this week was the interview Kate Moss gave to Vanity Fair, admitting that there were “years and years of crying” following her break up with Johnny Depp in 1998.
Sista, I’m feeling ya.
I can’t imagine any female who would leave a relationship with that divine specimen of a man with a shrug of the shoulders or a dusting of the hands.
Inconsolable. Devastated. Gutted. Desolate.
I’m pretty sure these words were invented solely to describe the heartbreak that would follow the demise of a relationship with Johnny Depp.
But she lost me a little when she also went on to describe her near-breakdown at the thought of having to straddle Mark Wahlberg in the Calvin Klein campaign that made her famous.
Sure, she was young. Sure, she didn’t like having to be half-naked because (her words) she hated her boobs. Sure, she felt “really bad about straddling this buff guy”.
Sista, you are on your own.
Playboy bunny baby
And finally, you know you’re doing something a little eyebrow-raising when a wannabe Playboy bunny is questioning your life choices.
This was the reality facing Kelsey Grammer (star of Frasier) when he decided it was a good idea to take his 3 month old baby daughter to a Halloween bash at the Playboy Mansion.
This proved a little much for fellow party-goers, including one hopeful Playmate who tweeted: “Why the f*** does Kelsey Grammer have a newborn baby at the Mansion Party!?”
Apparently Kelsey and his wife Kayte, who is still breast-feeding, don’t have a nanny or a trusted babysitter & cited these as their reasons to take baby Faith to the soiree.
But they weren’t entirely correct, were they? By taking their little one to the Playboy Mansion, they put her under the watchful eye of Hugh Hefner – arguably Hollywood’s most experienced babysitter.
The opinions expressed in The Side Project blog do not necessarily reflect those of The Project or the Ten Network.
The Project’s trash culture curator Vanessa Cryer drags you through the week’s showbiz gossip at the Side Project blog
Mickey Mouse… I am your father