No mention that New York author Lauren Weisberger wrote her original drafts of “The Devil Wears Prada 2” in classes at the West Side YMCA. Longtime. For “The Writer’s Voice,” writer Jim Fragale says, “I took classes there when I was young and I know.”
Meryl Streep on this newest Prada pic: “The shoes were more comfortable twenty years ago.”
Yet another film. Russell Crowe is one of dozens and dozens of exec producers on something called “Beast.” Also plays a tough-talking trainer. Gone from “Gladiator” to “glad I could help.”
Russell: “I read an early draft and told the director, ‘Mate, a good story there, but we can make it great.’ ”
He flew to Sydney and got to work. Result? Chop ’em up kung foolery shot in Sydney and Bangkok. Real fights in real stadiums. See the thing. Wear a black belt. It’s streaming now.
Listen, I’m not one to pull the wool over your eyes — so — worst comes to worst you can always see the latest Hugh Jackman thing twice. He goes baah-baah in “The Sheep Detectives.” See it, in theaters. Wear a sweater. Thank ewe.
Harry Belafonte’s granddaughter Sarafina Belafonte sings, too. Also got her neuroscience degree from Columbia.
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Sarafina: “My grandfather and I had listening parties in his living room, trading his historical anecdotes for my pop culture. Once came time to play my own music for him. Grandpa a tough critic. I anxiously anticipated his response. When the track ended, he asked, ‘So you made this?’ Then, tears in his eyes, he said, ‘I am proud of you. Keep going.’ I replay that in my mind.”
Her new EP “Like a Man” debuts Friday, with a concert and release party at 8 p.m. at MMAC Theatre at Manhattan Movement & Arts Center on the West Side. Grab tickets and make a “day-o” of it.
Not everyone has it easy.
Once, I walked into the Plaza main dining room and a maitre d’ bowed low, kissed my hand and addressed me as “Mrs. Zimmerman.”
Judge Judy, when late for a VIP appointment, raced from the gym, slammed on her wig ready to meet a VIP — only the wig was on backward.
Years ago, Her Majesty Queen Sirikit of Thailand arranged a beautiful hotel suite for me in Bangkok. Phone in the living room rang. I ran to retrieve it. Nobody told me a cot had been opened, in case we needed it — and I cut my leg to bits, when I fell over it.
In days of old, Kate Smith sang and popularized “God Bless America.” Singing it in a high-school auditorium, on a blank hardwood floor, she accidentally caught in a hand gesture which broke her long, long opera-length pearl necklace and — one-by-one — each very large round pearl hit that bare wooden floor like a drumbeat.
Mother to the principal: “Sir, do you think my boy is trying?”
Principal: “Yes, ma’am. Your son is the most trying kid in this school.”
For sure, can only be in New York, kids, only in New York.
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