Turning deaf ears to the demands of a human-behavior driven script, a sharp departure from willingness to portray scenes of steamy passion- the cardinal sin & the basic human instinct- has opened a Pandora box of troubles for Amber Heard. She’s at loggerheads with a financial tribulation; a courtroom will pay heed to her pleas, allegations and counter allegations, as she has been sued a gargantuan amount of eight million pounds, by the financers of modern-day rendition of Martin Ami’s 1989 literary masterpiece, “London Fields.”
The producers of aforesaid movie are fuming over her backtracking from her previous stance that she will plunge headlong into the steamy sequences to meet the demands of plot progression. There’s more to the scrumptious soup of entertainment having turned bitter and sour; producers are alleging that Heard, who walked down the aisle with Johnny Depp and then left him alone at the altar, tended to chop and change the original script maneuvering her scissors around the steamy sequences that demanded her to flaunt her hyena like gait and curvaceous physical form.
Heard dons a curiosity-provoking, questions-popping role in the movie, where her characters fools around with the emotions and thoughts of others, having seen the mundane side of life, over-lived the notion that sex brings completeness and having visions that someone was out there to pounce on her at any moment to bring her heartbeats to a dreadful conclusion.
Promises like debt must be harbored till they ripen into fulfillment! If Amber has broken a vow of on-screen intimacy to honor the plot progression, or if there is something more fishy to her decision reversal, everything is shrouded in a cloud of mystery, and as we know denizens of Hollywood have honed the art of keeping anticipations high and astonishment in the volatile playground.
It is prudent to be prudent; chew the words before spitting them out. Cool as a cucumber, Amy Schumer rasped she will relocate elsewhere if calculations forfeit the trend and Trump suits himself in a comedy of errors. She may have to pick up a new dialect, reconcile her stage performance accordingly – she is game for it.
Trump’s blowing the trumpet of victory burped her undigested words. Wiping off the mess & breaking ice she said it was a non-serious conversation in good jest. Amy stays, Trump rises, and the predictions of pundits fall apart: we are about to witness arguably the most outrageous American president, and hope so Trump foots the bill for bravura in his boasts.
From a skeptical distance Amy earlier rasped, “My act will change because I will need to learn to speak Spanish because I will move to Spain or somewhere. It’s beyond my comprehension if Trump won. It’s too crazy.” Amy joined several stars amorphously exacting to zip their bags and scamper off to seek out fresh pastures.
There were exceptions who trashed the flashy talks and threw their weight behind the new president. Kal Penn begged the naysayers for a vision shift stating, “Stop it [with] the moving to Canada s–t. Double down on the country we love. If Trump becomes president, we have to get MORE involved not less.”
Excitement gobblers, below follows a stimulus, but its age-restricted for you may discover traces of impatience, anger, violence and unjust behavior. It’s a salad of human follies…………….
Smoke emitting from nostrils, red-eyed, and locked in fist of fury position, mum-me-not Azealia was caught unawares by Russell Crowe. She stands him accountable for ruffling her up in a fit of indiscretion- an uncalled bout of misbehavior, or a surgical strike to restore lost honor! A snide remark from Azealia beat the peace of Russell to pulp. She called him a baggy (pear-bottomed), aged man coping with obesity and the guests almost threw up in rapt attention. A gut-wrenched Crowe smoldered, fetched her by the neck and subjected her to racial abuse and showed her the exit door.
Adding fuel to the fire, Azealia wants to settle the scores and she is looking to lodge a case. Hollywood is known for its controversy faux channelization. Azealia has a devil-may-care attitude; before the utopia arises, she builds new worlds from scratch.
She poses grim picture of a troubled psyche; she used severe words to hurt the sentiments of Zayn Malik on the social platform, but later on backtracked from the lost track, and offered an earnest apology for the rude shock meted out by her. She vouched that she has learned to identify her inner demons and accept accountability.
Who’s accountable this time around?
For Justin Bieber, money grows faster than grass; this slave to luxuries uses it to consolidate his high life- phenomenal day mansions and nocturnal heavens. Hardcore money bounces of his wallet, a literal abstraction of the silver spoons in his mouth. Here more is less and it shows in his conduct: his latest fad is a huge mansion located in London, written off to him at a price-tag of 1.3 million sterling pounds annually as rent.
Justin’s propensity to ogle at pricey dwellings spills into a long list: another port of call for his nomad of luxuries. Justin’s latest temporary ownership is believed to siphon off the peace with his purse by almost 1,08,333 pounds a month.
The at-your-face mansion stops onlookers in their tracks and clicks with them from the first frame. It stands at 24000-square foot, the construction dates back to 1910, and it has come a long way; its past dwarfs in comparison to what it looks now, with a bathroom ambling in the scheme of things with 123 types of Italian marble, an aquatic pool to splash in, oxygenating spa, tennis court and wine cellar.
Consider it a disruptive brawl with yawn fest; being a variety lover he will snuggle deep into comfy embrace of pricey properties dividing time between London and Los Angeles. Stories of Justin’s much decorated London life have come to the fore, a source revealed that he was clicked having a home-cooked meal and milk inside the pricey property.
Once again, a girl of substance volunteered to reopen a pressed down, dusty case file, so to unthaw the residual pain from the past. Emma is bereft on the vaunting tilt of the pay pendulum towards the men, dampening the zeal of women.
Suiting herself, she drew attention to the bitter pill of raw deals Hollywood divas swallowed day in night out. Emma rustled up a debate, steering the ethos of Hollywood pay culture in a courtroom.
She cited that she is yet to suffer prejudice of the pay fiasco and reel under a financial crunch obtruded by heavier pay cheques awarded to men. The actress discerned that success and popularity make the mayor go around: the merchants of Hollywood dream put extra zeroes on a pay cheque or erase off a few depending upon the standing and popularity of a star, and those are the decisions unrelated to one’s gender.
Lucky her, she is free from gripes of slim pay meted out to women in comparison to larger pies men take home, and can discern the larger picture from a vantage point. How many can boost of that, as Hollywood’s overall record in this regard is enveloped in a dubious shade.
He and she is a one pole that is poles apart. Men lack the ethereal feminine grace, patience, the ability to bear children, whereas they have that protective embrace, resolute willpower and masculine attractiveness, which women do not have. Things work well in tandem, at emotional, physical and mental levels. Absorb the implied sans qualification, without draping clothes of foolish reasoning and conning the basic set-up of nature. After all, things work in tandem, he and she was meant to be him and her, not a he and a she. So, why the pay prejudice, we must ask why?