It’s a happy birthday to Alexis Dziena, who turns 26 today. Dziena’s bikini and crotch, variously, made small snatches of Fool’s Gold (above) bearable. Of course, she first came to the attention of curious monkeys courtesy of her full-on nude scene in Jim Jarmusch’s Broken Flowers, which I’d wager was Google-searched by more people than actually saw the film.
It’s a happy 50th birthday to Thomas Haden Church, who’s a good interview.
It’s a happy birthday to Groundhog Day scene-stealer Stephen Tobolowsky, who turns 59 today. His birthday parties are pretty awesome.
It’s a happy birthday to Annette Bening, who, as improbably as it may seem, turns 52 today. Bening’s marriage to Warren Beatty probably cost us a handful of great performances around a decade back, but after doing the family thing for a bit (and tackling some stage work, to mixed reviews) Bening is back, and in Mother and Child and this summer’s The Kids Are All Right, she has two powerhouse performances that virtually guarantee her a Best Actress Oscar slot. So kudos, AB.
It’s an unhappy 66th birthday to knee-jerk, right-wing bump-on-a-log Craig T. Nelson, aka Steve Freeling and Coach Hayden Fox, who last year famously and apparently without irony asserted that “no one helped [him] out when [he] was on food stamps and welfare.” Idiotic charlatans of political engagement like this — unfeeling creatures who don’t understand the difference between socialism and a societal safety net, and reflexively bristle at social/mental health/outreach programs that don’t conform to the prescribed rigidities of the manner in which they believe others should be living their lives — are in a certain sense citizens of the worst order, because they have the means to be better educated, but almost willfully choose not to be. They put on blinders and ignore the world at large, or indeed the very notion that there could be major problems that do not (yet) immediately impact their lives. Their opinions are rooted in having achieved a certain hard-fought success, and then — instead of celebrating living in a country which ultimately rewarded all their effort with a lottery-style win — becoming embittered with taxation and/or the inability to extend control and ultimate authority across all areas of life. I mean, clueless statements like the one above almost guarantee that the guy has an alcoholic past or has been in some sort of trouble with the IRS, right? Which one is it?
Alec Baldwin turns 52 today. As do his balls. So happy birthday to all three.
It’s a happy birthday to Eva Mendes, who turns 36 today, much to the delight of Latina Mole Enthusiasts subscribers. Mendes is at her core innately va-voomish, but has also shown flashes of something deeper in movies like Trust the Man and We Own the Night, and even some goofball charm in stuff like Hitch and Stuck on You. (Let’s not talk about Ghost Rider, meanwhile). One senses there could be something meatier and truly substantive out there for her, if she wanted to work for it, though.
Oh, and it’s Aasif Mandvi‘s birthday, too. He turns 44, but looks considerably less interesting in a bikini bottom, so there you have it.
It’s a happy birthday to Jessica Biel, who turns 28 today, and perhaps celebrates by squeezing into the same bra-and-panty set that she rocked a couple years back in the trailers for the execrable I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry. Or maybe she waxes nostalgic about at one time wanting to be Whitney Houston. Then again, maybe she just takes her animals to a dog park, eats some edmame, does some tae bo and cracks walnuts between her ass cheeks, I don’t know…
It’s a happy first beer (21st birthday, that is) to Scout Taylor-Compton, the weirdly-named star of Rob Zombie’s Halloween reboots. And it’s a choice, too; her birth name is Desariee Starr Compton. So… yeah.
It’s a happy 30th birthday to Margarita Levieva, who it seems might have shown more in the Ashton-Kutcher-as-gigolo flick Spread than originally intended.
It’s a happy birthday to Christie Brinkley, who turns 56 today. She’s no actress, although her appearance in National Lampoon’s Vacation certainly made an impression. Chiefly, though, Brinkley was known to guys who came of age in the 1980s and early parts of the 1990s as a model for Sports Illustrated‘s annual swimsuit issue (her romance with rock ‘n’ roll piano man Billy Joel didn’t hurt in this regard either, upping her profile and keeping her in the public light). No crazy-busty chick, Brinkley and her sunny persona presented a confounding and seemingly at-odds image for plenty of teen and twentysomething guys — the knockout model as relatable girl next door.
And in photos like the one above, the leggy looker (she’s 5’9″) cemented the virtues of bared neck, shoulders and more for a generation of hormonally-charged dudes. Maybe the Internet, with its readily available explicit images, has changed that for the current generation. But movies (and magazines) used to not be above trading in sexiness without any preoccupation with actual sex. The bared female back is a big part of that — a subdued and at times almost startling inversion of what men, in all our visual orientation, most typically focus on. Of course, the ass pear doesn’t hurt either.
It’s a happy 22nd birthday to leggy redhead Lily Cole, who served as Heath Ledger‘s last leading lady in The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus, Terry Gilliam’s snakebitten misfire.
It’s a happy birthday to The Ruins‘ Laura Ramsey, who turns 27 today. I’m not particularly recollecting her from The Real Cancun, and I skipped The Covenant since Renny Harlin failed to invite me to the premiere, but she honestly gives a praise-worthy, full-bodied performance in The Ruins. And no, that wasn’t a nudity pun. Though it works as one, sure. A Wisconsin native, Ramsey has that Midwestern wholesomeness going for her. This isn’t to say that ladies from the coasts can’t radiate natural beauty and charm — they just as frequently do — but rather just that there’s a segment of the population that typically hails from states like Ohio, Wisconsin, Iowa, Minnesota, Nebraska and the like that seems unburdened by fashion polarities and the quest for au courant status, and that’s refreshing. I hope Ramsey eschews any Botox treatments or club-excess lifestyle choices, and keeps that quality; regardless of how her career tracks, movies need more women like that.
It’s a happy birthday to John Sayles, who turns 59 today, and Hilary Duff, who notches her 22nd season premiere. One looks hotter than the other in a green tank top. By a smidgen. But will Duff be able to carve out a notable pop princess/dual threat career, what with Miley Cyrus nipping at her heels? Or, to phrase it another way, will 19 producers be able to gravy-train off her movie career?
In celebration of Glory Annen’s 57th birthday, a look back — complete with photo! — at her delicious turn in John Lamond’s Felicity, known to some as the English language Emmanuelle.
Because someone has to at least note the 44th birthday of Bill S. Preston, Esquire…
It’s a happy 31st birthday to Emma Heming, aka Mrs. Bruce Willis, a leggy Maltese falcon if ever there were one.
I don’t know whether they met on the set of the perfectly awful Perfect Stranger — one of Heming’s few acting credits — or that’s a later gig Willis helped her get, but either way that’s not something they should ever really spend much time discussing. Which then begs the question: what do they discuss? How she was 10 years old when Die Hard came out?
It’s happy birthday wishes to Transformers eye candy Megan Fox, who turns 23 today, and probably contemplates, somewhere in the deepest recesses of her mind, ways to top her air-quote wild GQ interview, and thus crush her starlet brethren. Might I suggest running for public office?
It’s a happy birthday to Amber Tamblyn, who turns 26 today. For Tamblyn’s thoughts on TV work in general and the stillborn Babylon Fields in particular, click here; for more about her poetry and what she gains from it as a creative outlet, click here.
It’s a happy birthday to Swedish-born Malin Akerman today, who turns 31 and probably celebrates by receiving some more Silk Spectre swag from jokester friends and representatives, and being mistaken for Sienna Miller by some hapless barista. It’s no coincidence that the brothers Farrelly cast Akerman in The Heartbreak Kid; she has some of the same spunky, manic charm that helped propel Cameron Diaz into the stratosphere after her winning turn in the smash hit There’s Something About Mary. Key word: some. But she was a part of Watchmen‘s problems, sad but true, and I don’t know that anyone of reasonable mind can picture her donning a wig and going homely, a la Diaz in Being John Malkovich, let alone dabbling substantively in drama.
I met Akerman, who actually has a music background, on the set of The Brothers Solomon, and the general impression I got was of a fairly sweet-natured gal who, in the memorable words of Mike Skinner, is fit but knows it, and is thus basically just along for the ride in the whole film world. If there exists a burning artistic ambition or fierce independent streak, it was hidden away that day. The star-stuffed ensemble comedy Couples Retreat is on deck for her later this, among other stuff in the works; it’d be interesting, though, if Akerman mixed in a small-town melancholic indie or two along the way over the next couple years, either in the lead or as the wise but somehow broken friend. Nothing too overtly melodramatic, just a tonal change-up. It could open new avenues for her, I think. Regardless, somewhere, Kal Penn and John Cho smile to themselves, and/or possibly exchange the email equivalent of a fist bump.
Spike Lee turns 52 years old today, and Clint Eastwood probably does not call to wish him a happy birthday.
From the files of random disturbance, something discovered during research for a long-form piece I’m penning: wait a second, Karl Rove was born on Christmas?! Jesus Christ, indeed…
It’s a happy 27th birthday today to Brazilian bombshell Cinthia Moura, who helps make John Landis’ Deer Woman massively enjoyable and worthwhile, if certainly more for her lithe expressiveness than dialogue, of which she really has none.
Ali Larter turns 33 today, and across the nation Cool Whip enthusiasts celebrate, in commemorative fashion…
It’s a happy birthday to Cybill Shepherd, who turns 59 today. In addition to frequently having her name misspelled in about a dozen different combinations, Shepherd is one of those dames of a certain age — like Elizabeth Taylor, and probably eventually Jennifer Lopez — who everyone talks about, whenever their name comes up, as having been sooo beautiful, perhaps as a way to mitigate discussion about general nuttiness or diva-ish behavior. For Shepherd, the big demarcator is her topless turn as Jacy Farrow in 1971’s The Last Picture Show, above. She also, of course, has the (well earned) reputation of being a very vocal pain-in-the-ass; in fact, I’ve interviewed a former costar who only smiled tightly when asked about her, and then nodded wryly when asked if that could be interpreted as being indicative of their feelings about her. Still, one has to give it up for Moonlight,* which really sang in those first two seasons. That’s the Shepherd I prefer to remember, and celebrate.
* EDIT: Moonlighting! Man. I blame the Hennessy…