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  Gossip with Gregoire!

Tuesday, June 15, 1999

Horror films and wedding ceremonies go together like chocolate and peanut butter, so this weekend was one big Reese's Cup of glamour. Hot off watching the zany "Bride Of Chucky" on video -- with the divine Jennifer Tilly as the little doll's wife -- I learned that "Scream" couple Courteney Cox and David Arquette had tied the knot in San Francisco. No word on whether any serialistic and unneccessarily gory slayings took place at the ceremony, though watching Jennifer Aniston and her hick lover Brad Pitt eating lobster all goo-goo eyed at the 30s prohibition-era reception would have driven me to violence! Another hot pair, Reece Witherspoon and Ryan Phillippe, also got attached the previous week, and though everyone is acting very mildly surprised, G Spot readers -- and for that matter, people with common sense -- shouldn't have been. I speculated a couple months ago that a ceremony was imminent for these two, especially since Reece is preggers and unwed teen parents make unfavorable Tiger Beat candidates. Since I'm doing well at predicts for the new Mrs. Witherspoon-Phillippe, may I make another one: an Academy Award nomination (or at least a Golden Globe one) for her amazing comic performance in "Election." She's funnier than George Bush Jr. and Al Gore combined. Let's elect her in 2000!


Every time I hear a new story about "Entrapment" beauty Catherine Zeta-Jones and her on-again/off-again love interest Michael Douglas, I get a rather irritating tickle in the back of my throat, like I wanna throw up but I'm too dignified. I'm totally enamored of the Welsh actress -- in a wish-she-were-my-drinkin'-buddy sorta way -- and knowing that she's attracted to extremely rich, archetypical white men best known for their string of misogynistic 80s roles scares the bejeezus out of me. What do these two have in common, you ask? From a recent sighting reported by the Daily News, seems it's golf, and not the mini, windmills-and-colored balls variety that I enjoy. Zeta-Jones, apparently an imported version of Dinah Shore, is so attached to the sport that she is rumored to have gotten her role in "Entrapment" by telling fellow golfer Sean Connery of her passion. (Maybe it's simply Zeta-Jones describing ANY kind of passion that got her the job. Sizzle!)

Anyway, Cathy and Mike were putting away last weekend in Majorica, Spain, and word on the green is that she blew him away, partially because of private lessons she takes (though don't count out the fact that she's a strapping, healthy young woman and he's a tired 4,000-year old pampered man.) Hopefully, this will be as much swinging these two do together, though Douglas is apparently so enamored of her that he's gotten his diminutive pal Danny DeVito to sing his praises to her.

God, what I wouldn't give to be Cathy's caddy? Could you imagine? I'd do a really loud cheer after every successful putt! "Honey, wanna nine iron, a wood, or a martini?!"

They Don't Call It 'Love' For Nuthin'

From golf to tennis -- I'm sooo macho this week -- now that Brooke Shields is out of his life, Andre Agassi has been playing better than ever, recently triumphing at the French Open. (Not that I watch tennis, of course; I can't stand all-white summer outfits!) But that hasn't stopped the Bushy Browed One from declaring her love for the shaggy sports star whom she split with in April, even saying that she talks to her ex-husband on a daily basis and are "entirely supportive" of each other. "Andy, I guess since I'm not driving you up a wall with my diva act, your game has really improved! Congratulations!" "Thanks Brooke, now with Judd Nelson and David Strickland gone, 'Suddenly Susan' can concentrate on its most important element: you!" "God, I love you. Even still!!"

Ring Toss

Engagement rings are merely tokens of esteem that two people have for one another. So why not trade it in for a better one? That's precisely what Ellen Barkin did with the yellow diamond number given to her by soon-to-be Ron Perelman. The picky blonde hocked it for a nicer, admittedly more tasteful number. No word on whether Ron cared about the switch or not, but could you imagine if a man decided to do the same and trade a piece of jewelry given to him by his woman? That's cause for a divorce right there!

Blind Item: Treading Not-So-Lightly

What huge male television star was recently seen working away on the treadmill in a snazzy L.A. gym, not watching his own progress but that of other men in the gym? Just in case my source was seeing things, he then relayed this sighting to another television celebrity (a jaded, cable-ready one) who suggested this actor's predilection for boy trolling. I could drive my father to drink -- instead of the other way around -- with this unusual news...?!

Schightings, Schmitings

The superb Alan Cumming leaves New York and "Cabaret" for Lala-land to tackle the role of the Great Gazoo in the latest "Flintstones" movie -- GROSS!!! -- but he didn't leave without a party at the Limelight, populated with gay clubgoers and a few stars, including Claire Danes, who grooved the night away (Don't ask me, by the way, why I always have Claire Danes sightings. I guess I'm psychically attached to the girl.)

Hot film actress and fluke pop star Jennifer Lopez party-hartied at Elle Magazine's fete for her last week and spent a lot of time with Robert DeNiro (no, I'm not suggesting a pairing, puh-lease.) She jumped on a plane right afterwards to film "Oprah" the next day. This gal's got spunk AND endurance.

That other Latin pressure point, Smilin' Rico, flashed his cup of life for a trillion screaming fans last Friday for a Today Show taping which I had the great misfortune of running into on my way to the HoJo. Hearing the faint melody of "Livin' La Vida Loca" strained with the yelps of desparate women and gay men at 8:30 A.M. is a pain human's should experience only once in life.

"Go About Your Business"

As Gregoire was sitting watching videos at home alone, the fabulous weekend award goes to Paul The Intern, who had a rather unique sighting at The Old Towne Tavern, a wonderful rustic (read: rustED) pub best known as the bar front frequently used in "Mad About You."

Anyhoo, as Paul tells it, he and some female companions were sitting at the bar when he noticed "a bunch of people in their 40's, dressed really really nicely." One of their number included Ralph Fiennes ("hair thinning, still a good looking gent though"), who was then joined by Ralph's fellow "Schindler's List" cast member Liam Neeson ("a tall fecker, dressed in a suit with a t-shirt and glasses").

Captivated by this mega-star conference, Paul could hardly watch the baseball game on the telly nor focus on his own companions. "In fact, Ralph was wearing a white shirt and khakis, so he looked like he was ready to sell secrets to Nazi's for some romantic reason."

To make matters more intriguing, Paul arose from his barstool to go empty his bladder; who should enter the restroom but the "Phantom Menace" actor himself. Paul notes: "There is a lot of power --- dare I say "force?" -- behind his stream. I didn't see anything, but let's just say that nothing small could produce that."

As he washed his hands, Paul recalls, "I want to say something, anything, yet not feel like a dork. I notice the soap dispenser is broken. I wipe my hands, look at the Oscar nominated star of the new Star Wars movie and say, 'Heh .... no soap.' He gives me a nod as if I were Watto, right after saying 'What do you think you are, some kind of Jedi?' and proceeded to wash his huge hands."

(Famous peeing-star sighting are not new by any means. In fact, one of my best friends once urinated with Leonardo DiCaprio in the bathroom during the premiere of his god-awful "Total Eclipse." When relaying this Liam story to said friend, he replied, "Well, Leo's stream wasn't quite as powerful." Breakup Girl also reports an adjoining-stalls incident in Central Park with Darryl Hannah, but that's about all she has to say about that. Anyway, there you have it. Sonic proof that a Liam/Leo competition would find an easy victory for the elder.)

It also bears noting that one of Paul's companions was in the throes of a teary breakup. Paul reports: "She composed herself whenever Liam or Ralph walked by. While I am despensing some good advice, she finally says 'Why do I have to break down and look like hell in front of Liam Neeson and Ralph Finnes?'" Paul goes on: "I kept wishing Liam would sit down with us and let her know that all was going to be well. It is safe to say, that I was, at best, the third-best looking guy there."

My Own Private Celebrity

Ever watch a really, really bad movie and scan every corner of the screen for some kind of relief to the maddening tripe being hurled at you? Has that savior even been in the form of an actor who's face has not yet graced the proverbial lunch boxes of America's consciousness? While flying back from the Bahamas last week, I decided to delight myself with the inflight movie, as I had devoured all the reading materials I had with me ("Ulysses" and a stack of Glamour Magazines). Unfortunately for me, the film was "Patch Adams," an overly sentimental assemblage of hogwash allowing Robin Williams to become more annoying than ever before. While forcing myself to view this "motion picture," I began to drift away from Williams and pay more attention to his bespecled sidekick Truman, played by an actor named Daniel London. I fell madly in love: the geek chic, the 70s shirts, the ability to stand patiently in a room and read lines with that freak lunatic! From talking with others who had viewed (nay, who had enjoyed) this film, it seems he made little impression on those more amused with Robin's antics, while I saw him as the only reason to watch the film at all. (Monica Potter's a good reason too, but she's everywhere these days and thus is not proving my point, which I'm getting to....)

Upon researching this actor, I discovered that London had done only one smaller film (which, like "Patch Adams," is reaching video stores this month) and was completely unknown. I began to look fondly on the Williams film and secretly thanked the producers in my nightly prayers to the Heavenly Father for giving this actor a featured role such a high-profile film. London does not as yet have a fan club, so consider this column to be it.

I bring up this rather embarrassing tale -- wha?, Gregoire having a uniquely human, obsessive moment? -- so as to solicit similar experiences from you, my many thousands of loyal readers. Have you ever been impressed by an actor in a really small part in a film or TV show? Ever look in an encyclopedia of film for an actor who's so insignificant they don't even have an entry? Drop me a line and let me know. The most interesting response will be published here over the next couple weeks, meaning valuable publicity for said unknown but an airing of a private secret that should no longer be carried with embarrassment. Readers, we've all done it! And it's not even contained to modern media crushes. A friend of mine became obsessed with an extra in an old Humphrey Bogart film and did hours of research to trace any additional work by that actor. (Unfortunately, in this particular case, the actor was killed shortly after making the film. But it's not all depressing!)

To Daniel, wherever you are (actually I know where you are, but I'm not a psycho stalker, so relax), I raise my cosmo to you for getting me through your terrible film. The next time you have a bit part, I'll have a ticket to it!

Until Robin Williams overacts to the point of imploding,

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