“There are two kinds of women: those who want power in the world, and those who want power in bed.” So said Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.

This was a rare candid remark from Jackie. Though naturally she never specified what kind of woman she was. 

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I must comment on the weekend’s top-performing movie – "Obsessed," starring Beyoncé Knowles. I won’t say "ignore the critics because it’s really a work of art or flawed but interesting!” 

Just ignore the critics because this is brainless, manipulative, popcorn-munching, crowd-pleasing moviemaking at its best. If you go in with the proper mindset — it’s a thriller about an obsessed woman — you are halfway to suspension of disbelief, because how many times now have we seen this plot? (Aside from the most famous incarnation, "Fatal Attraction," it’s the basis of every other made-for-TV film. And there are plenty of "Obsessed Men" movies also. I just watched one the other day on cable – "The Juror," with Alec Baldwin and Demi Moore.)


Beyoncé Knowles © Getty Images

I suppose the real questions are : How does Beyoncé look? How does Beyoncé act? And how good is the Big Fight between Beyoncé and her female nemesis Ali Larter? 

Beyoncé looks fabulous! Beyoncé can act, but doesn’t have to bother to do that here. Acting would only get in the way. The fight is just terrific – hilarious, viciously hurled insults and some real-looking tussling between the ladies. 

Oh, the put-upon man-in-the-middle is Idris Elba. He looks fabulous, too!   

This is a well-produced trip down the memory lane of every other big-screen and TV tale of unrequited lust, crazy office politics, sexual harassment, lies, cynical cops, mistrusting spouses, etc. I’ve spent my money on worse.

And it was worth the price of admission just for the audience reaction. Lots of participation, catcalling, cheers, hisses. The crowd knew that it wasn’t any great shake as a movie, but everybody seemed satisfied.

And, that’s entertainment!

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Went up to the highly private and expensive Core Club on East 55th Street the other night to celebrate the 40th birthday of my pal, Renée Zellweger. There she was in a little sleeveless nothing dress with silver Roman-sandle high heels that were contraptions on entraption one could hardly move in. Renée is very with it!

Vogue’s Billy Norwich and I spent a happy arrival time with the Times’s most famous couple, Frank Rich and Alex Witchel, before the birthday girl appeared. We dished politics as people younger than our grandchildren filed into the joint. I had a good visit with Marty Richards who produced Renée in her Oscar-winning movie hit “Chicago.” And another one with Dan Abrams but it was so noisy I couldn’t ask if he and Renée were “an item.”

“Hey, Tex,” I said to Renée when I finally found her in the muddle. “Hi, Tex,” she said right back. “I want you to watch your weight!” I said, kidding of course. “Gotcha!” said the birthday girl, who looks as if she’d had only lettuce leaves for days.


Renée Zellweger © Getty Images

Many more happy ones, Renee. You are a very lovely human being. If there were only more like you in Hollywood; but then, you’re NOT of Hollywood.

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It’s usually at Vincent’s posh salon in the Concourse of Saks Fifth Avenue that I run into one of the richest, most philanthropic, most attractive and prolific authors in the universe. That would be Barbara Taylor Bradford, a woman who is writing her 25th novel, which we’ll see in the U.S. in October.

As a rule, Barbara is always cheerful and upbeat, but she has had a blow of late. Her famous English agent for HarperCollins UK, one Patricia Parkin, has died unexpectedly. She and Barbara had been working together for 30 years. "She was a grand sounding board, so it’s a shock to me to lose her!" said Barbara.