Half a century after it was prematurely declared the future of cinema, the 3-D process seems finally to have captured the hearts of cinemagoers.
Last weekend Beowulf, Robert Zemeckis's deeply peculiar adaptation of the ancient poem, powered to the top of the US box-office charts. No surprise there, perhaps. After all, the digitally animated picture does feature flying lizards and a dubiously enhanced Angelina Jolie. It is, however, interesting to note that some 40 per cent of the $28.1 million taken came from 3-D screenings.
"If this isn't a mandate on the popularity and viability of 3-D, I don't know what is," Paul Dergarabedian, nerd-in-chief of Media By Numbers, a box-office monitoring service, told the world. Steel yourself for a resurgence of interest in hula-hoops and skiffle music.
The Shaw-thanks reception
Another honouree has been announced for the US-Ireland Alliance's third annual Oscar Wilde: Honouring the Irish in Film bash. It's Fiona Shaw. The extravagantly voiced Corkonian, star of My Left Foot, The Black Dahliaand, erm, Three Men and a Little Lady, will join James L Brooks in receiving the adulation of Irish America's finest at the Wilshire Ebell in Los Angeles next February.
Gongs a-going
Raise a glass. Two more Irish flicks have picked up awards. Teeth, a highly amusing short by Ruairí O'Brien, grabbed the Grand Prix Cocette at the Brest Film Festival (see the film on www.ruairiobrien.com), while Liam Ó Mocháin's WC, a no-budget feature set in a pub lavatory, won best feature film at the Waterford Film Festival.
Mali meets Ó Maonlaí
Liam ÓMaonlaí and Paddy Keenan have been keeping themselves busy. The sometime Hothouse Flower and the former piper for the mighty Bothy Band travelled to Mali recently to make a film with a group of that African country's most prestigious musicians.
The Mali Project, featuring oodles of music and the odd bit of chat, will eventually premier in Bamako, the Mali capital, before making its way to the Festival au Desert deep in the Sahara. Nice (though sweaty) work if you can get it.
That wasn't very moving, Nicole
Nicole Kidman, the popular Australian somnambulist, was in court last week to defend herself against a defamation suit filed by a photographer. Kidman, dressed in some grey thing, repeated her claims that the snapper and his assistant had endangered her life by speeding after her car through the busy streets of Sydney.
The Nicolebot remained characteristically composed in court as she described the racing, pounding fear that engulfed her in January 2005. What can that have looked like? Did one eyebrow incline itself gentle toward the other? Did the extremities of her taut mouth turn downwards?
Fabulous Fabio v Gorgeous George
The most significant story of the year continues to rumble on. Forget the Middle East.
What we want to hear about is the brawl between Fabio and George Clooney. As you may recall, the greying dreamboat and the hairy Milanese tosspot fell out while dining - at separate tables - in a Los Angeles restaurant. Fabio now claims that George, whom he kindly refers to as "a low-class scumbag", called one of his dining companions "a fat cow" and, thus, left the Italian waste-of-space no option but to reach for the fighting talk.
"After I put him in his place - you know I'm three times his size - he got a little scared," said Fabio. "I went back to my table and as soon as I sit down he paid his bill, got up and he started insulting the girls. He called the women names. At that point I lost my temper. I went after him and he ran out of the restaurant."
We have no inside information whatsoever, but we're still taking George's side.
