A bong, animal crackers, pomegranate juice

I meet Kristen Stewart in the midst of the publicity tour for her new and final Twilight film: Breaking Dawn Part Two. ‘It’s like Godfather Part Two,’ she tells me. ‘But you know, not that good.’

Away from the media glare, Kirsten is an unassuming kindhearted young women who spends most of her time freeing squirrels from man traps and just gazing off into space thinking about Africa and stuff.
‘I’d like to go there and be like a good will ambassador and look at stuff cause you know, the way the stuff is there is oh I don’t know, wrong I want to say?’
I ask is she relieved that her role as Bella is coming to an end.
‘Oh definitely. This has been a huge adventure for my and stuff and I’m really grateful because it’s been an opportunity to meet some great people and to get myself out there and seen, but now I’m definitely ready to do some serious shit like I did with On the Road which has no Vampires in it at all – not one – cos I read the script and I suppose when it comes time to decide what I want to do next… what was the question?’
Of course I have to ask her about the kerfuffle surrounding her role in Snow White and the Hunstmen and her affair with the director.
‘Okay, right, you’re interested in that right. Well, what about I have a question for you? Okay? So, why don’t you ask Milla Jovovich about sleeping with Paul Thomas Anderson? Huh? Or why not ask Helena Bonham Carter about sleeping with Tim Burton? Why pick on me?’
It’s a fair point. And we celebrate by ripping another bong and Kristen tells me how the atoms in our right hand probably come from a different exploding star to the atoms in our left hand and that as star dust there’s like an amazing drift of … I’m sorry what was the question?  


NEW YORK – Brad Pitt only gives interviews with great reluctance and is sure to control the environment.

The only way he would agree to give an interview to Studio Exec was for us to agree that he would be in a helicopter racing through the skyscraper canyons of New York City while our intrepid reporter Chad, clung to a rope ladder that swung vertiginously from the door of the helicopter.

How did you first get involved in World War Z?


Oh, we were in a bidding war for the book, which you know was okay. I think Leo wanted it and we got it. And then we got the guy who ruined the last James Bond film and that was it. We were on our way.

There have been a lot of rumors..?
I can’t hear you.

Oh right. Yeah. Well, I love the fragrance and I spoke to Joe Wright and we had some ideas, so yeah I was happy to do it.

Out of my own head? No, I told you there was a book.

Great question Chad, but I think you should hold on with both hands it’s getting hairy. There’s really quite a crosswind here. As for next, well, if this film does well, we have ideas for potentially 23 other films. Just go down from the alphabet.  World War X, World War Y etc.

Very funny Chad. How do I unhook this thing.


HOLLYWOOD – Advance copies arrived of Mel Gibson’s new autobiography Sad and Angry and Studio Exec was given EXCLUSIVE permission to publish extracts. 

From Chapter Eight: Lethal Weapon:

I knew right from the beginning we had a winner on our hands with Martin Riggs. He was a character I could play. Depressed, vulnerable and a hair cut only an Australian could pull off.  I remember the first read through with Dickie Donner and Danny Glover. I tell them I like the beginning when the white cop and the black cop don’t get on very well, but after that… I don’t know. Dickie says something about narrative arcs and Danny just looks pissed off. 

From Chapter Thirteen: I free Scotland from the Tyranny of the British:

I’ve always felt for the plight of the Scottish ever since I spoke with Sean Connery about it in his island retreat in the Caribbean. Sean is an eloquent advocate for the independence of Scotland and many’s the evening we would sit in his beautiful beach front villa as Sean waxed poetical on the beauties of Scotland and the history. My other Scottish pal Randy Wallace from Texas showed me a script he had written about William Wallace. It was perfect, but I had one question. ‘Is there anyway I could fuck the queen?’ Randy smiled. ‘That’s exactly what was missing,’ he said.  

From Chapter Eighteen: Making ‘What Women Want‘:

When you’re making a film it’s always fantastic to see how a project develops and evolves sometimes for the best, other times less so. What Women Want is an example of the latter. Oliver Stone originally approached me with a script that Andrew ‘Diceman’ Clay had written. I say written, there were a lot of crayon drawings and exclamation marks, but you get the gist. That aside, it was the best thing I’d ever read. Not only funny but true. We were all set up to shoot and then Ollie decided he was going to do Any Given Sunday and my co-star Helen Hunt suggested Nancy Myers. As soon as she came on board everything changed. Clay’s script was thrown out, the premise was distorted and even the title changed. Now it was no longer called Women are a Bunch of Stupid Idiots. I know. But the original genius of Clay and Stone’s vision will have to be consigned to the ‘what could have been…’ bin.

For Part One CLICK HERE.


Caviare, lobster, champagne, more caviare, more champagne and gold flaked crackers

I drive up to the Skywalker Ranch and George Lucas leaps out of a  bush and into the road. ‘Wa-Hey!’ he yells, grabbing me and dancing around the car. ‘Woo hoo!’ After about two hours of exuberance which involves tree climbing, dancing about and games of tag, we head up to Chewbacca HQ where breakfast is served.

  We start with large bowls of Coco pops and beluga caviare, with Dom Perignon champagne. As we tuck in, I ask Lucas about the Disney deal.

What does he plan to do with the money?

Charity. I’m going to put it all into an education programme, but before that I’ve put it all in the swimming pool. All $4 billion. We’ll got for a swim after breakfast. More lobster.

Thank you very much. But I haven’t brought a costume.
Doesn’t matter. We’ll go skinny dipping. (high pitched maniacal laughter).

Of course, I’d love to go swimming in $4 billion but the idea of going skinny dipping with George Lucas is now in my mind cinema and I want it to turn off, so I ask:

And what about now? What are you hoping to do?
Future projects and stuff? I’m glad you asked. Finally I am free of the stifling responsibility of the most awe inspiring universe a man has ever created out of his own bearded oddly necked head. Now, I’m free to make those personal, experimental, small films I’ve always wanted to make.

All that commercial trash has just tied me down for so long. Of course, it was iconic. In fact, the word iconic didn’t exist before 1977 and the first Star Wars film. Coincidence? I very much think not.

The thing about Star Wars is it affected a generation so deeply and yet for my the artist genius who created it if you will, it became a burden. In a way I’m kind of like God. God created a universe – the universe as some scientists and religious leaders termed it – and I created a universe, the Star Wars TM universe. But I got bored of it. I imagine God has as well. And now I’m ready to do new things. Loads of things. Too many to mention.

Later we’re towelling off and getting into clean clothes after our money swim when George makes an excuse and leaves. He is pacing up and down in the garden and I can here him talking on the phone. His voice is strained and desperate.

‘I’ve made a terrible mistake, Mr. Mouse,’ he says. ‘Please I want it back. I want my baby. Please!’

For all the Breakfasts CLICK HERE.


MALIBU – Lyndsay Lohan comes to the door looking a wreck. Her hair is pulled back into a pony tail, her eyes are red and her skin is pallid. “Hey Chad! Come on in.”, she says, pecking me lightly on the cheek. “I think it’s time I admitted I’m an addict.”

In her breakfast nook the place looks like a bomb has hit it: a library bomb. There are books everywhere. “A book addict.”“This is in Russian.”, I say, leafing through a heavily notated edition of War and Peace.
“Mostly in Russian.” Lohan says, clearing a space for our food and pouring orange juice. “You’ll notice Tolstoy wrote many of the conversations in French, which his readership would understand and would be the way that Russian nobility would speak to one another.”
“You need to read it in the original language – otherwise you miss all the nuances. Have you read it Chad?”
“Erm, no.”
“I know what you mean.” Lindsay passes me a plate of waffles with syrup. “The death of grand narratives in history means that the epic novels lack a substantial relevance, but they are still diverting when you need to refresh your mind with some light exercise.”
“So what do you read?”
“When I was doing Herbie Fully Loaded Michael Keaton got me to read some Wittgenstein and it was like discovering Narnia. Jane Fonda told me you can’t read Wittgenstein and not have read Hegel and Kant, so I went to my friend Charlie Sheen and he gave me a full reading list.”
After the waffles, there are pop tarts and raw eggs. “This might surprise some people who see your media image and think you know…”
“That I’m a fuck up? Yeah, I know. But that’s about the relationship between the symbolic and the real.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the real is there, when you bite into a pop tart and it is too hot – you experience the real. But everything else about the pop tart, the advertising, the packaging, the cultural idea, even the word pop tart, that’s all in the realm of the symbolic. It enslaves, bewilder,s and baffles us. We must liberate ourselves from the symbolic and experience the real. Open ourselves to that.”
“So you’re not a wreck?”
“I want to challenge your definition of wreck.”
“Interesting.”, I say, sipping my orange juice.
I wake up and it’s Monday. I haven’t got my trousers and I’m in down town New York, the wind is blowing and apparently there’s a hurricane coming. I find a text on my phone from Lindsay: “Sorry, there was a bit of orange juice in your vodka.”

For all the Breakfasts CLICK HERE.


Bran, fruit, hot milk, Heidegger, Jaegermeister and coco-pops

Terry Malick famously doesn’t give interviews, but he does eat breakfast, and Studio Exec was invited over to Malick HQ to break bread with the great man during magic hour and finally ask him some questions. He was out on the heli-pad waving flares even though I’d told him on the phone I would be arriving by car. He threw the flare into a sand bucket and then, breaking open a bottle of Jaegermeister, grabbed me in a head lock and rubbed the top of my head with his knuckles. “Hey my man!”, he barked, “You bring a camera?”
To my surprise, Terry was very disappointed that I hadn’t brought a camera. “I wanted you to take my photo. They keep using that one of me wearing that big hat – I look like a f*cking dufus.”

I assured him we would use a different one as we went into the house and down the spiral staircase (like a seashell, or a Spanish cathedral, or a fractal drawing of the universe) to the kitchen. The Jaegermeister was gone. “Do you want some coco-pops?”, he asked, “Or bran? What do you want? Who are you? Are you there? What are you that wants breakfast? Two ways of eating breakfast: the way of fiber and the way of taste? Who are you to ask for breakfast? Have you seen the glory? It was here somewhere. The glory? Near the little bowl where I keep my keys, maybe.”

Terry seemed to drift off and indeed was soon wandering about the house, inspecting the microscopic movement of bacteria or glancing out the window at the flaring sun. I asked him how his latest film To the Wonder had come about.

“I was talking to Ben Affleck and the 007 girl and I got them to run about a bit. Buffaloes in a field, birds take flight, the sun glimpsed through the sudden flash of water. Who are we? What are we? Who cares? Threw it all together and hey presto! Classic!”

And you are currently working on Knight of the Cups?

Temptation, celebrity, excess. Yes.

With Christian Bale and…

Everybody on the planet. I got everybody who I could. You hear the phrase open casting call. I mean I know, right now I know, I’m not going to use half of these people, not even a tenth. You see I write a script like a novel, a really great novel. They read it and they say yes. Then I throw the script out. Throw it the fuck out and get them to walk around beaches, deserts, forests looking confused. Some Arvo Part, a little Gorecki, who knows, a dinosaur even. Bang! Classic! Malick in the house!


There’s always got to be a river. Every single film there’s a river. Badlands, The Thin Red Line – that fucker Spielberg and his Saving Private Ryan bullshit – Days of Heaven, The New World and The Tree of Life. River, river, river. You ever see that Redford film, A River Runs Through It? That was Bobby’s homage to me. Oh, and a fire and a bird cage.

Terry slumps worn out with all his thinking and bleary eyed with the liqueur. He naps for a few minutes, and then resumes his musing:

And you know, why do we do this? Is there a God? Who is the power? The power that draws us on? What is it at the heart of nature? Where do we come from? Who are you?  

I like it. Philosophical inquiry, like Heidegger?

No, I mean who the fuck are you? Have you come to install my cable? Terry has to have his wrestling

No, I’m Chad. We spoke on the phone. 

But Terry had lost interest he had opened another bottle of Jaegermeister and was setting off flares in the back garden, screaming ‘I see the glory!” at the top of his lungs. On my way out I spoke to Pedro ,his PA, and expressed my disappointment at the interview. “Such a wasted opportunity.”, I said, “He only gives one interview in three decades…”

“What are you talking about?”, Pedro said, “He gives tonnes of interviews, but they’re all like this so no one uses them.”

At last in Studio Exec, Terry had met an outlet with absolutely no standards whatsoever.

For all the Breakfasts CLICK HERE.


Good Morning Mr Jackson. Can I call you Sam?
Mr Jackson will suffice.
Fine. Mr Jackson, The Avengers was a great success, you must be very proud.
I turn up on set, do my job and get paid. If the movie does well I get a bonus. I like bonuses.
But surely after the long build up, the cameo’s in Iron Man, Captain America etc…you are pleased that your character Nick Fury finally got to strut his stuff?
Strut his stuff?
Er…I mean you must be happy your role was extended.
I turn up on set, do my job and get paid. If the movie does well I get a bonus. I like bonuses.
Ok. It’s been almost 20 years since Pulp Fiction was released. What are your memories of the shoot?
Shut the f*ck up Fat Man it ain’t none of your God Damn business
What does Bruce Willis look like?
What country you from?
What ain’t no country I ever heard of! They speak English in What?
Then you know what I’m saying!
Describe what Bruce Willis looks like!
What, I-?
Say what again. SAY WHAT AGAIN. I dare you, I double dare you, motherf*cker. Say what one more god damn time.
He’s w-w-white…
Go on.
He’s bald…
Does he look like a bitch?
Then why you try to f*ck him like a bitch?
I didn’t.
Yes you did. Yes you did. You tried to f**k him. And Bruce Willis don’t like to be f*cked by anybody, except Mrs. Willis.
Mr Jackson I think we better wrap up the interview you seem to be a little fraught.
Aw Man. I’m just F*cking with you.
Jackson breaks into hysterical laughter.
Oh…Ha-Ha. Phew that’s a relief I thought you’d gone crazy.
You calling me crazy Motherf*cker!
Samuel L Jackson’s will star in Django Unchained due for release Christmas 2012


HOLLYWOOD – For many the finest comedian cinema has known, Woody Allen today agreed to sit down and give an in-depth interview EXCLUSIVELY to the Studio Exec.

Woody Allen answers the door in his sweats.

‘Hey come in,’ he says. ‘I was just getting in a quick workout before breakfast.’ He leads me through to the gym. ‘Do you mind if I finish? I’m on sets of fifties so I don’t want to break my biorhythm. Just go through to the kitchen. Soon-Yi, get off the machine. It’s my turn. Come on let’s go.’

Half an hour later, Allen emerges, showered and ready for the world. The 77 year old actor, writer, director and comedian looks in great shape. He jogs on the spot before settling down to his breakfast: some toast, a power smoothie and yeast extract that he eats with a spoon.

‘I notice you’re not wearing glasses,’ I say. ‘Strange to see you without them. Are you wearing contacts?’

‘God no, I never needed them,’ Allen smiles broadly and slaps my shoulder. ‘Glasses I mean. It was just, you know, a gimmick, I suppose you could say. When I started in What’s Up Pussy Cat … which was what? 1965? Anyway Peter O’Toole says to Charlie Feldman, “Charlie get the kid some glasses. He’s an intellectual, he should be wearing glasses.” Jesus, those actors, they’re so insecure; just a bundle of neuroses really. But the look stuck, so you know… How’s your yoghurt? That’s goats yoghurt from Siberia.’

‘Your latest films have been mainly European affairs, what attracts you about working…?’

‘Sorry, I can’t help it,’ Allen laughs. ‘When you talk you remind me of, who was that guy Soon-Yi? The one in the stupid movie about the fucking tree? Yeah that’s it. You remind me of Brad Pitt.’


‘Yeah, really. Brad Pitt. So yeah. Europe. Yeah. I don’t know. I like it I guess and they love my work even when I don’t. So it was a perfect fit. Look at me. I’m sitting with Brad Pitt.’

‘I look nothing like Brad Pitt.’

‘Yeah, you do. Next question.’

‘You have a keen interest in jazz.’



‘Used to. No longer.’

‘How come?’

‘Got bored. Next question, Brad.’

Allen stands up and starts doing star jumps. ‘Erm…?’

‘You want to ask me about that douche bag, Mel Gibson? Go ahead and ask.’

Woody Allen and Mel Gibson had a set to recently in a Hollywood restaurant. (Click here for a full report).

‘Would you like to give…’

‘I kicked that asshole’s ass. And Vin Diesel is there like “Go easy” and I’m like “back off Vin or do you want some as well?” Shit, that Fast and Furious motherfucker went pale and trembled like a plastic bag caught on a hurricane fence.’

‘Did you object to Mr Gibson because of his alleged anti-Semitism?’

‘Alleged my ass, they recorded him. Anyway that weren’t the reason. It was more to do with What Women Want. I can’t stand that film.’

‘And now the new Batman film?’

‘Great it’s been fantastic. Yeah dream project. Difficult to follow what Chris has done blah de blah you fill in the blanks. Gotta scoot me and Soon-Yi are running a half marathon Thursday so we got to get some training in. See you later, Brad.’


‘Yeah. Whatever.’

And with that Woody Allen runs into the street shouting, ‘It’s me Broadway Danny Rose the Zeligster himself, come on, who wants some?’

For more on the latest news of the Woody Allen Batman click here and for all the Breakfasts CLICK HERE.



DUBLIN – Liam Neeson sits across from me staring. I shift position nervously but he looks like he is measuring me up, trying to decide on the best way to kill me, whether to break my neck, or throttle me, or drive my nose bone deep into my pulpy brain flesh. He’s been sitting here in silence for twenty minutes.

When I first sat down, I sensed something was wrong. ‘You can’t sit there,’ Neeson growled in his famous Irish burr. ‘It’s Taken.’
I sat in the other chair. 
‘You can’t sit there either,’ he said.
‘That’s Taken 2,’ he roared with laughter.
In order to join in with the mood, I said, ‘Are you Taken the piss?’
At which point he stopped suddenly and stared at me. And that’s where we came in. Him staring at me for twenty minutes. 
Finally he sighs and begins to devour his food with something like savage grace. 
‘So,’ I say. ‘When George Lucas first approached you for the role of Qui Gong did you…’
‘Money,’ Neeson growls.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Were you a big fan of the TV show The A Team?’
‘Money,’ says Neeson.
The Grey?’
Neeson smiles. ‘That was the catering.’
‘I don’t know who you are’ Neeson says.
‘I’m Chad…’
‘I don’t know what you want. If you are looking for quotes, I can tell you now I don’t have them. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let me daughter go…’
‘That’ll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you, but if you don’t… stop crying Chad, if you don’t, I will look for you, I will find you and I will kill you.’
At which point I ran for it.

For more Breakfasts CLICK HERE.