“DON’T PUT your daughter on the stage Mrs. Worthington,” goes the Noel Coward ditty.

Today, Will Smith might be thinking along the same lines — don’t put your son in your movies Mr. Smith!

“After Earth,” the post-apocalyptic sci-fi entry which stars Will and his son Jaden, not only received scathing reviews but a poor box-office showing this past weekend. The unfortunate feeling “out there” — in the unfettered world of the blogosphere — is that Will and wife Jada Pinkett Smith, have essentially pushed their two children on the public. The Smiths are being seen, no doubt unfairly as high-end versions of Dina and Michael Lohan. The public has watched too many kid stars go down in flames, and are tired of it.

Speaking of going down in flames, “After Earth” just might be the end of M. Night Shyamalan’s directing career. Most everything he’s done since “The Sixth Sense” has been risible, at best.

OVER THE weekend I was shocked to read on the front page of Yahoo! that Sharon Stone was being held by French police, as a suspect in a million-dollar jewelry heist!

I clicked on the story and as I read it, I realized half-way through that is was a “joke.” Though nowhere did the story indicate that it was some sort of cruel satire. It was taken down quickly after an outpouring of disapproval. Variety, once the Bible of Show Biz, picked it up too, though they referenced it as “humor.” It wasn’t funny. I’m not surprised at “Yahoo!,” but the Variety aspect is just sad.

Miss Stone is the mother of three and has a number of movies coming out. Probably too busy to sue anybody.

I HAVE been writing lately here about the incredible Billy Rose and his “Casa Mañana” showgirls of the 1930s-’40s scene. Lo and behold, the Times reported on real estate mogul Aby Rosen and how this art collector is dominating the night life cafe scene. They say he put on “a spectacle that hasn’t been seen in the Paramount Hotel of Times Square since Billy Rose’s era.” Aby celebrated his birthday with a “Diamond Horseshoe” type 1945 tribute to the old movie of the same name. (Why am I not surprised that several times in recent weeks writers have harked back to Billy Rose for a comparison of excess and fun?)

“ALL BIOGRAPHY is mystery” wrote Norman Mailer in his infamous “novel biography” of Marilyn Monroe, back in 1973.

I’ll say! Norman contributed to many mysteries and myths surrounding Monroe, and would later admit that much of what he wrote was mere speculation and shouldn’t have been taken too seriously.

But he was correct, biography is mystery. A few years back, I read a marvelous book titled The Many Lives of Marilyn by Sarah Churchwell. This was a compendium of all MM bios, how they each borrowed from the other other, exaggerated, played down or invented what each author wanted, and how Marilyn’s image was crafted after death. The point was, Churchwell stressed, we’d never know the whole truth.

I was reminded of that while reading Susan Bordo’s The Creation of Anne Boleyn. (Houghton/Mifflin/Harcourt)

This takes us through the tragic queen’s short tumultuous life and her shockingly hasty death. It chronicles what was written about Mistress Boleyn in her lifetime — much of it by her enemies. And tells how each succeeding generation invented its own variation of Anne — bitch or saint, guilty or innocent, hag or beauty, heretic or true believer.

Bordo, inquires, just how did Anne, no great beauty by the standards of her own time, hold King Henry VIII at bay for six years, while for her he divorced his loyal wife, beheaded loyal friends, defied the Pope, and split the church?

Author Bordo also critiques the popular culture’s take on Anne, specifically through Genevieve Bujold’s electric portrayal in the 1969 feature film, “Anne of The Thousand Days” and of Natalie Dormer’s take in the TV series, “The Tudors.” Bordo was lucky enough to score interviews with both Bujold and Dormer, and the actresses reveal their theories on Boleyn, and how they tried to make her alive and vital for modern audiences.

IT IS a fascinating work, and Bordo clearly admits her prejudice — she is obsessed with Anne Boleyn, and fascinated with a whole host of historical women who have suffered at history’s hands. Bordo writes of Anne: “She is an enigma who is hard to keep one’s hands off; just as men dreamed of possessing her in the flesh, writers can’t resist the desire to solve the mysteries of how she came to be, to reign, to perish. I’m no exception. I have my own theories and I won’t hide them.”

And she doesn’t. She is refreshingly honest in criticizing those whom she thinks have done wrong to Anne by over-reaching or under-investigating.

PERSONALLY, I can never get enough of these historical re-evaluations — on women from Cleopatra (crystal clear ambition undone by a passion for Marc Antony) to Marie Antoinette (the shallow child queen who became wise and regal too late) to Mary Queen of Scots (driven by her emotions, bedeviled and imprisoned by the jealous Elizabeth I but smart enough to die in a manner as to ensure her own legend.)

As Edgar Allan Poe wrote: “The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetic topic in the world.”

This won’t be the last word on Anne Boleyn, who — thanks in large part to actresses Genevieve Bujold and Natalie Dormer — has become a feminist heroine to thousands of women around the world. (Bujold’s magnificent — if fictional — confrontation in the Tower, with Henry, still elicits cheers and applause.)

I was especially taken with Ms. Bujold’s remarks. At the end of the interview, Bordo asked the actress whom she could imagine playing Anne today? Having not seen “The Tudors,” Bujold said: “Maybe it’s selfish, but … the way I feel … no one. Anne is mine.”

Such is the power of a woman who died 400 years ago.

This column originally appeared on NYSocialDiary.com on 6/4/13

“WHAT people think of me is none of my business!”

This has been attributed to Oscar Wilde, Mae West and Gary Oldman. So, who do you think said it?

THE music world lost a great champion over Memorial Day. She was Jean Bach, a beauty in her 90s who reigned over the jazz and music world from her adorable Washington Square Mews house and then moved upstairs to One Fifth Avenue, staying loyal to Greenwich Village her entire life.

She knew everyone from Benny Goodman to Artie Shaw to Bobby Short to Lawrence Brown to Lester Young to Thelonious Monk to Mary Lou Williams. In 1995, she won an Oscar nomination for her film based on an Art Kane photo of 59 jazz musicians posing together on a stoop in Harlem. The documentary was titled “A Great Day in Harlem.”

(After the film was released, dozens of copycat photos began appearing. Jean’s favorite being the Smithsonian Magazine showing black Harlem businessmen with Bill Clinton in the center.)

For years, Jean was wed to TV producer Bob Bach who worked for Steve Allen and Mark “What’s My Line?” Goodson. She referred to her husband before him as “the first Mr. Bach.” When I first knew Jean she was producing Arlene Francis at the height of the latter’s stardom in the ’50s and ’60s.

My personal favorite of Jean Bach’s gracious correspondence is where she reported on being out with Artie Shaw and Bob Bach. “We talked of you and the men agreed you would be the most appealing date ever!”

I think that’s one to go on my tombstone.

NOW here’s something I wrote over ten years ago, on June 5, 2002 to be exact. I have altered only one or two words:

“Now look, you see pictures of Tom Cruise with a three-day growth of beard, staring intently from the cover of Premiere magazine. You see newcomer Colin Farrell on Vanity Fair, with his great grunge look. Yeah, I like these bad boys, and I’ve said so.

“But, honestly, what kind of real-life image is that? I’m getting really sick of it. These fake machismo poses look like police mug shots, which I suppose is what they’re aiming for.

“Whatever happened to glamour and mystery and insouciance and charm and charisma? Whatever happened to shoe shines, tailoring, clean linen. Somebody give these guys a bath and a shave. Wash their hair.

“We’re living in a world where celebrity men all look like they just escaped from Folsom Prison, and the women are all so underdressed that they could be posing for customers in the windows of Amsterdam. Female fashion is now a joke, since it’s only wisps of cloth uncovering acres of enhanced bosoms, navels, hips and everything else just scraping along above the bikini fault line.

“I know, this is Old Fogeydom at its worst. But really … where will it all end? Males stars wallowing in the mud?”

And today I am looking at the cover of one of the rare successful print magazines — Adweek. Its cover shows Luke Hagel of “Tough Mudder” and inside it’s all about the “getting down ‘n’ dirty” on reality “mudventure” shows that are driving the market. They say Reebok, Miller Lite and Advil are all jumping into this military-inspired crawling through the muck offering.

SO the British author Helen Fielding is bringing the appealing character, Bridget Jones, up to date. “Bridget,” as played by Oscar winner Renee Zellweger in two movies, will find a newly mature romantic and professional life in a third book to come out in October.

This one will be titled “Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy.” Knopf is publishing in the U.S. (The AP says “Bridget” was highly popular in the two previous novels of the 1990s but now she must cope with text messaging and social media.)

The big question is will a more mature and independent Renee Zellweger want to go down the “Bridget Jones” road once again to complete the trilogy on film?

NOSTALGIA FACTOR from Ellen Easton: “I miss the great restaurants where the tables were set far apart, the room was quiet, so one could actually taste one’s food and hear the conversation, women dressed, men looked like gentlemen, the service was seamless and non-intrusive and the food was delicious, not tortured: Quo Vadis, Le Pavilion, Chambord, Le Voisin, La Caravelle, Lutece, La Cote Basque, The Colony are just some of the greats that no longer exist. There were novelty restaurants — Trader Vic’s, The Hawaiian Room, the original Lindy’s, Pen & Pencil, Dinty Moore’s, Rumplemeyer’s, Hick’s, Schrafft’s, Patrick Murphy’s Popovers, NY Women’s Exchange Tea & Lunch Room, Horn & Hardart — all gone.

“There was a texture to the City that no longer exists. Not for the better. La Grenouille still exists on East 52 Street and it is great as well as the Veau d’Or in the Bistro aspect of 60th Street.

“What’s left? Corporate versions of the Four Seasons, the 21 Club, Serendipity 3, but those are no longer the same. The Plaza’s Edwardian and Persian Rooms gone, The Waldorf’s real Peacock Alley and Starlight Roof for dinner-dancing. The Cafe Pierre — gone. The Savoy Plaza, the Stanhope, Westbury, and Drake are all offices or apartments. The 52nd Street jazz clubs-gone. The original Copa! The music clubs were better — the Fillmore East, the Electric Circus, Le Jardin, Studio 54.

“My parents’ world is completely nonexistent — Le Club, El Morocco, The Stork Club, The Cotton Club, and the stores — the original Henri Bendel, Bonwit Teller, B. Altman’s, De Pinna, Best & Co., too many, too long to continue.”

This column originally appeared on NYSocialDiary.com on 5/30/13

“I EVALUATED myself very carefully. It sounds vain and egotistical to say, but I knew I was good looking.”

That was the late Greg Bautzer, Hollywood lawyer and romancer deluxe.

BAUTZER IS the subject of a fascinating new biography, The Man Who Seduced Hollywood: The Life and Loves of Greg Bautzer, by B. James Gladstone (Published by The Chicago Review Press.) Youngsters don’t get it, but the middle-class Greg was a genuine symbol of his times and also of genuine all-American ambition and know-how-and-get-what-you-want!

When he arrived in Los Angeles, he spent nearly all his cash on an impressive wardrobe. He charmed waiters and Maitre d’s into seating him at the very best tables at the very best Hollywood cafes and nightclubs. (“Presto! I was a celebrity!” he would recall of those early years as a lusted-after ornament.)

As a teenager he had already shown a remarkable ability for oratory and a flair for distinct and succinct writing structure. He was smart. He knew he wanted in on the big-time of show-biz. But what got him in was his charm, good-looks and oozing sex-appeal. He became, early on, a hot commodity, dating stars such as Lana Turner, Dorothy Lamour, Rita Hayworth, Ava Gardner, and most spectacularly, Joan Crawford.

Bautzer gradually became more than arm-candy. He morphed into one of Hollywood’s most powerful lawyers — a mover, a shaker, a deal maker. He advised studios, moguls and the lunatic that was Howard Hughes. (And he and he alone could get Hughes on the phone.) He represented Ingrid Bergman in the truly messy custody trial that followed Bergman’s scandalous affair with Italian director Roberto Rossellini. (One of Bautzer’s few failures — his cross-examination of young Pia Lindstrom, Bergman’s daughter, backfired spectacularly.)

He was the man who arranged forRobert Evans to head Paramount. He masterminded Kirk Kerkorian’s takeover of MGM. His deals were eventually responsible for many classic films.

But, let’s face it. He romanced the great goddesses of the screen, none of whom, in the end, had a really unkind word to say about him. (Yes, he was thatcharming,) He had his demons — drink and an unexpectedly bad temper. But it never lasted, and even those subjected to the worst of him, always forgave, because he didn’t hold a grudge. He was always there for a friend or an ex-lover. For instance, when Merle Oberonneeded TWA airplane tickets, she called Bautzer. She got her tickets.

And he was sexily persistent. When he met, and was infatuated with the actressDana Wynter, she rebuffed him: “You’re terribly nice, but you’re the last man I’d ever marry.” Bautzer asked, “Why?” Dana replied: “We have nothing in common. And you have an appalling reputation.” (She was unimpressed by his romantic conquests.)

They married, dear reader. It didn’t last, but he was an excellent ex. For all the power he wielded, he appears not to have held a grudge, had few enemies, and till the end, exerted his fabled charm on women and men alike. Robert Wagner says, “Greg created an air of success around me.” (Before Wagnerwas a success.) “When Natalie Wood and I married he began to represent her too. When her career took off, he handled everything for us.”

AND though he “put Frank Sinatra through the wringer” in his divorce negotiations with wife Nancy, even the terrible-tempered Frank became friendly with Bautzer. Years after all the mess, Sinatra suggested that he visit Greg and Dana Wynter and “cook some Italian food.” Greg agreed. Wynter, however, was appalled by Sinatra’s entourage, which included girls Wynter was sure were still in their early teens. Eventually, after a number of visits, Wynter confronted her husband “Sinatra is bringing hoodlums to our home. Somebody could be shot on our doorstep, and he (Sinatra) doesn’t even have the courtesy to say who this man is. It’s appalling!” Needless to say, Bautzer remained pals with the singer, but not in his home. After, Bautzer identified “this man” as mob boss Sam Giancana.

BUT IT is Bautzer’s relationship with Joan Crawford, on and off for many years, that really juices up this book. Crawford was — well, nuts. The great star was notoriously promiscuous, but given to behaving like an empress in public. A close friend of Crawford’s described her attitude: “A man must be a combination of butler and bullfighter. Crawford expected her escort to place her napkin in her lap, light her cigarette, open doors for her.” Bautzer performed these duties without losing the upper hand.

The pair also indulged in mutual sexual violence. Crawford would proudly show off her black eyes and bruises, and Bautzer would point to scars on his face, inflicted by Crawford’s penchant for throwing cocktail glasses, missing his eyes by inches.

Hollywood had a big laugh when Crawford later dissed Marilyn Monroe,saying, “The public likes colorful personalities, but they like to know that underneath it all, the actresses areladies.” Joan had convinced herself, despite sleeping with directors, producers and leading men, that she was a “lady.”

No doubt, in private, Bauzter disabused her of this notion. I kind of wished the entire book could have been about Greg and Joan! He admitted he was “stuck” on Crawford, but embarrassed by her absurdly royal demands and various hi-jinks. (Bautzer’s long affair with Lana Turner, his first “big time” date, was passionate and romantic, but left no visible scars.)

Greg Bautzer for all his seemingly frivolous womanizing was a serious man who truly changed Hollywood history in many ways. As Robert Wagner writes in the Prologue: “He knew everyone and knew their secrets. He knew what made them tick. He knew what made Hollywood tick!”

And the tick, tick, tick of sex, glamour and big business is revealed amusingly and intelligently in The Man Who Seduced Hollywood.

OH, MY — I almost forgot my favorite anecdote in the book. In the late 1940s, Howard Hughes had Bautzer approach Sara Taylor, mother of Hollywood’s exquisite teen queen Elizabeth Taylor. Hughes offered Mrs. Taylor one million dollars to marry Elizabeth. Rather than be appalled, the ambitious Sara asked, “tax free?” Taylor was appalled, and shortly after, was engaged and then married to first hubby, Nicky Hilton. Elizabeth would say later, “I married to get away from my parents.” Could you blame her?

This column originally appeared on NYSocialDiary.com on 5/28/13

wowOwow’s Lesley Stahl, Cynthia McFadden, Liz Smith, Joan Ganz Cooney and Joni Evans with PureWow’s CEO Ryan Harwood, Editor in Chief Mary Kate McGrath, and Managing Editor, Jillian Quint

“MOST AWARDS, you know, they don’t give you unless you go and get them. Did you know that? Terribly discouraging!”

So said young Barbra Streisand, back when she was first receiving armfuls of awards. Since then, she’s mellowed a bit about being adored.

WE REALLY have to call her “Dr. Streisand” now. On June 17th, Barbra will receive an honorary doctorate of philosophy from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. The movie star will be recognized for humanitarianism, civil rights, dedication to Israel and the Jewish people.

Streisand already holds an Honorary Doctorate in Arts and Humanities from Brandeis University.

Well, after Elizabeth Taylor was made a dame of the British Empire, she did insist on being introduced as “Dame Elizabeth Taylor.” So, “Dr. Streisand” isn’t such a leap.

SPEAKING OF Miss Taylor — Elizabeth’s super-devoted assistant of many years, Tim Mendleson, e-mailed us from Cannes, happily floored by the experience of seeing all four-plus hours of the restored “Cleopatra.” He wrote: “I had no idea! I’d actually never seen it before. People in the audience were screaming and applauding all the way through. It was wild.” He added: “She took so much of that movie with her for the rest of her mortal life. She never spoke of it much, and now I cannot understand why?”

MY GOOD friend and associate Denis Ferrara and I were astounded recently when we wrote about a new book by Leslie Zemeckis titled “Behind the Burly Q: The Story of Burlesque in America.” We never dreamed we would cause such an outpouring of interest. I had also recently seen the dramatic play on Broadway, “The Nance,” which surprised me because it tells the story, partly, of how Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia drove vaudeville out of New York and it turned into stripping, which then became burlesque as a result. (Vaudeville and burlesque offered up some of the greatest comics of our age. They then went to work in early television. Their jokes, japes and comedy became priceless.)

THIS ALL reminded me of the days of the rise of Billy Rose, who began as a fast shorthand taker and played his skills into a friendship with financier Bernard Baruch. This catapulted Mr. Rose into the ranks of master producer of musicals, girls, girls, girls, shows and refined stripping. At the time of the 1936 Centennial of the State of Texas, Dallas was the be-all and end-all of where this celebration was taking place.

The Dallas “enemy,” only 30 odd miles to the West, was Fort Worth. This town went behind the back of Dallas and its Chamber of Commerce and hired Billy Rose to bring his glamorous showgirls to Texas and put on something he called the Casa Mañana there.

Before graduating high school in 1940, I well remember dancing with my father on the very same stage where Billy Rose offered his dazzling, sexy and daring extravaganza. They even adapted the music of “Gone With the Wind” into something nearly the same, re-titled for legal reasons, “Gone With the Dawn.” Before they opened the Casa Manana to public dancing, I was a rapturous teenager watching the great Sally Rand do her dance behind gigantic fans. Later, she refined this to a big balloon dance where she appeared to be in the all-together behind the ball.

Too naughty and too thrilling for the Southern Baptist nature of Fort Worth. Remember, these were times when people could still be shocked by nudity or assumed nudity; Everybody said Sally wore a skintight leotard and wasn’t really nude. At the time the dirty limerick going around was: “Billy Rose asked SallyRan(d)/If she would dance without her fan. Sally danced without her fan/Billy Rose and Sally Ran(D)”

Many years later, I was on tour with a musical starring Phil Silvers called “Top Banana.” The comics would take us out every Saturday after closing at the theatre to see what was left of Burlesque. There, I experienced the thrill of Lili St. Cyr who I think was called “The Atomic Bombshell.” She came onstage, fully clothed — and not just in bra and panties, removed all her divine clothes, took a leisurely and sexy bath, got out, re-dressed head to toe, hat and gloves and left the stage, leaving audiences panting!

After we wrote here about the publication of the book by Skyhouse, I received an outpouring of burlesque memories. Reader Ellen Easton writes me: “Lili St. Cyr was once wed to Armando Orsini, the restaurateur who owned Orsini’s in Manhattan long ago. He was prominent in the founding of the discothèque era. Lili had helped Armando at the beginning of his career and long after they were divorced, he continued to support Lili in her later years. All of his restaurants were elegant and fun. He cut quite a swath with the ladies who lunched.”

Ms. Easton has sent me some nostalgic memories of the Sixties and Seventies and we will undertake remembering them after we get her permission to do so.

This column originally appeared on NYSocialDiary.com on 5/24/13

“WHAT a rage for fame attends both great and small! Better be damned than mentioned not at all!” wrote Peter Pindar.

I WAS in Orso, the under-stated theatre café on West 44th Street the other night, and there was music tycoon Clive Davis with his entire family. I asked why they seemed so excited? “Why, because we are going on to see Bette Midler’s show over on 45th Street at the Booth!” I told them, with all the authority I possess, that I’d already seen Bette play the Hollywood agent, Sue Mengers, twice!

Bette is going strong and I still think that although the Tony Awards neglected her, they should have asked her to emcee the Tony theater show with Neil Patrick Harris on June 9th. I’ll bet Bette would have accepted the challenge just for the hell of it.

While all the hoopla surrounds Bette on Broadway, let’s not forget her husband of a lifetime, 29 years this December — Martin von Haselberg, who has his own show going on.

“Paintings and Works On Paper” can be seen at the Rose Burlingham Gallery, 2 West 123rd Street (between Lenox and Mt. Morris Park) or at the Martin von Hasselberg Studio 165 Lenox Avenue in Harlem. The website is www.roseburlingham.com.

Let’s not forget that Martin is a true performance artist and no “Mr. Midler.” I personally think he is a genius and I’m not surprised that he is thriving in the hottest art form extant today — drawings and paintings!

REGARDING “Iron Man 3,”the Robert Downey, Jr. crash-bang movie in the weird and crazy “Iron Man” sequels: This super explosive action film didn’t get the rave reviews expected, but I saw it again this week and had a wonderful time.

Its sarcastic and witty star is irresistible (again) as he battles evil with the help of his pal, played by White House military Colonel actor Don Cheadle. (You can also see Don in the Showtime TV series “House of Lies.”)

As the “Iron Man” tries out his “sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t” futuristic inventions, he remains the emotionally dependent adolescent to his chilly super woman executive girlfriend, played here by Gwyneth Paltrow. He is forever asking her “Are you mad at me?” after he has done something stupid.

He is forever trying to save the world from a truly evil international terrorist, who appears to resemble Osama bin Laden, and this provides a great comic turn for an unknown failed actor!

In the end, the “Iron Man” naturally triumphs and even Miss Paltrow warms up and looks truly sexy and disheveled by the end.

The plot, if there is one, is that the famous shouldn’t always ignore their fans, and admirers, and refuse to hear them out, because in the end, the latter can turn very dangerous. But what more can one want from two hectic hours of slash/bang/crash action? This is all accompanied by an almost knowing wink of the eye, as if the director, screenwriter, etc, are saying: “We know this is crap, but look what we’ve done with it!”

Robert Downey, Jr. is a simply super tongue-in-cheek hero. A great actor!

ON THE night of the recent Literacy Partners gala in Cipriani 42 Street, I was approached by two beautiful human beings who are famous writers. It is always a delight to see them, together or separately, as they represent (1) women who have done it themselves and risen to the top (2) generous souls with senses of humor and a great deal of talent.

They were, of course, Barbara Taylor Bradford who has now written 27 international bestsellers and is offering us her latest Secrets from the Past from St. Martin’s Press. Barbara is a genial blonde bombshell who has been given the Order of the British Empire by Queen Elizabeth. It is always a delight to run into her.

The second sweetheart is Mary Higgins Clark who is offering Daddy’s Gone A Hunting, another mystery from Simon & Schuster. This little darling has been described as “The mistress of high tension!” by none other than The New Yorker. I always tell the story how this petite and pretty lady invented a writing career for herself. If memory serves, nobody helped her and she became a bestselling success all by herself. She is not only now rich, famous, well-wed to John Conheeney and has produced another writer, her daughter Carol Higgins Clark.

It was delightful on literacy night to be hugged, kissed, cosseted by these successful writing stars. I will always be grateful for their support in fighting for the 2 million adults in NYC who need to learn to read at the 5th grade level.

And if you couldn’t read and were grown up, you’d have trouble getting a job, keeping it, reading your Rx bottles, following signs and simply surviving. So if we could solve the problems of literacy, we’d be solving a lot for 2 million or so adults. Thank heaven for the generosities of Barbara and Mary!

DON’T MISS it! I do mean the fabulous playwright/actor/icon Charles Busch, performing one night only (May 29th) at Manhattan’s hot spot, 54 Below. Call 646-476-3551 for ticket info.

I’ve loved Charles since his old “Psycho Beach Party” days right up to his brilliant “straight” prize-winning comedy, “The Tale of the Allergist’s Wife.”

The amazing thing about Charles is that despite the wild situations he puts himself in onstage, (or what insane get-up he’s wearing) he’s actually subtle.

A little Norma Shearer, a little Joan Crawford, a bit of Bette Davis. It’s the throw-away gestures and vocal mannerisms that are paralyzingly funny. Anyway: May 29th, 54 Below. One night of sheer genius.

TONIGHT, don’t miss Michael Landes and Anne Heche in their terrific new series “Save Me,” from 8 to 9 on NBC.

It’s a big deal for the next four Thursdays.  Mr. Landes is the son-in-law of our photo friends, Gigi and Harry Benson.

Ms. Heche is a talented pal of mine from the past.  This is a good tip in spite of the “friendship” angle.

This column originally appeared on NYSocialDiary.com on 5/23/13

“THERE’S NO smoking in this building, ma’am.”

“What are you going to do, arrest me for smoking?”

So it went between murder suspect Sharon Stone and the detectives grilling her in 1992’s “Basic Instinct.” Moments later Sharon briefly uncrossed her legs and made movie history. (“I forgot my panties that day,” Stone would later complain about the angle of Paul Verhoeven’s camera.)

That movie was a smash, and briefly lifted Stone’s career to the heights. A few years ago, she reprised the character of Catherine Tramell in “Basic Instinct 2.” It was unintentionally hilarious and not a success.

And yet, now we hear that Miss Stone is ready, “eager” even, to give the Tramell character one more go-around! I don’t know if anybody else is, but Sharon is a determined woman. And, she looks fabulous in her fifties. She might have learned from the mistakes of the second “Basic Instinct.” Supposedly, the idea she’s cooked up is for Tramell to somehow be involved with the lucrative and ever-growing online porn sites. More than anything else, she wants “closure” for her character and Michael Douglas’ character — he was the detective so enslaved by Stone’s ambiguous, deadly, sexuality.

As far as I can see on a cloudy day, I doubt this will happen, even if my source on this rumor is correct. Still, anything can happen. And with Hollywood suffering such a dearth of originality these days … maybe. Not that Sharon is scratching for work. She has three films in post-production and three in the planning stages.

Sharon is often a better actress than she is given credit for. I saw, again, on cable, the 2006 movie, “Bobby.” Stone is terrific, and one scene between her and Demi Moore presents both women at their very best. (Lindsay Lohan is also in “Bobby.” This was during the era that Lohan was still just a “wild child” with promise. The good old days!)

YOU have only about one more month to see “The Scottish Play” starring the powerful Tony-winner Alan Cumming, playing most of the parts, as a crazy man in an asylum or recovery situation. And he is impressive as Shakespeare’s own crazy man Macbeth!

I asked Alan after the curtain came down on his incredible performance, how he does it, including drowning on stage before our very eyes? He laughs and says, “I don’t know how I do it!”

If you can get a ticket for this at the Barrymore Theatre on W. 47th Street, I’d advise you to re-read “Macbeth” before you go.

CBS’ “60 Minutes” take on the aftermath of the trial of Michael Jackson’s mother vs. his last concert managers, is fascinating. Everyone recalls that there was the huge scandal not only of Michael’s untimely death, but of the fact that he left financial chaos behind him and owed hundreds of millions of dollars in debt.

Lara Logan’s story on this popular program, one of the only real analytical news shows still left on Primetime, established an amazing array of positive facts.

Michael’s will, much contested and wondered at, is offered as remaining just the way he wanted it — with equitable parts for charity, for his mother, his children and eventually his brothers and sisters.

Lifelong friends and devoted associates have taken over Michael’s chaotic financial problems and now they say almost all of Michael’s debts have been settled in the millions of dollars. His archives are vast and a treasure trove of cars and limousines, his clothes and costumes, and his multiplicity of art and gifts signed by people like Elizabeth Taylor. As well as his estate owning much valuable film, records, music and The Beatles priceless music collection. “60 Minutes” says Michael Jackson will go down in history as the greatest money-making star of all time. The Michael Jackson “Immortal” show put on by Cirque du Soleil has taken in $300 million. And he has 60 million Facebook friends!

Many people analyzed Michael Jackson as a child molester and drug addict. Be that as it may, he was a shrewd collector and talent and remains a money maker.

His children seem to be emerging from his odd sense of over protection and some of them seem to have reconciled with their birth mother, Debbie Rowe,once a medical aide to controversial Dr. Arnie Klein.

I knew Debbie slightly and although she always refused to give me an interview, I found her pleasant, non avaricious and cordial. Here is a letter she wrote me in 1999: “Dear Miss Smith — I usually stay away from most articles written about me and/or my husband and child. Dr. Klein brought me your article from today’s L.A. Times. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate your comments. I wish the rest of the world would back off and just believe the truth that we tell them. Thanks again — Debbie Rowe Jackson.” 

And twice, in his professional career, I had occasion to meet and know Michael a little bit. The first time was when Michael was 16 years old and filming with Diana Ross in “The Wiz.” DirectorSidney Lumet and Lena Horneboth invited me to come watch some of the filming in New York.

Michael seemed to be a shy teenager with little to say. He was obviously impressed by his co-stars and director.

The other time I met Michael was at The Neverland Ranch when he was “giving away” the bride Elizabeth Taylor and hosting her wedding to Larry Fortensky. I divided my time between examining Michael’s domain and running outside the Ranch to the Fox News trailer where I was reporting to New York.

At one point I ran into the rich and famous Dr. Mathilde Krim, co-founder of AmFAR. The mortals guarding the door refused to let her in; she lacked i.d. After convincing these men that Ms. Taylor would want Dr. Krim inside we joined for the belated appearance of the bride in her yellow Valentino gown on Michael’s arm. (She looked more tan than he did.)

The ceremony proceeded with a paparazzi leaping out of a helicopter under a parachute landing into brutal arms of the Secret Service and hustling the intruder away, as Nancy Reaganwas sitting in the front row.

At the wedding dinner, I was asked to join Michael and Elizabeth sitting together while bridegroom Fortensky sat with his many relatives at another table.

Michael, as sweet as always, flustered and softspoken told me he and Elizabeth were so close because they shared the horror of being “child stars!” (With abusive fathers.)

I later wrote quite a story of this wedding but I didn’t make a dime out of it. My fee went lock, stock and barrel to Elizabeth’s AIDS charities.

Michael Jackson, often beleaguered, perhaps misunderstood in life, seems to have redeemed himself in death!

This column originally appeared on NYSocialDiary.com on 5/22/13

“CHINA IS a big country, inhabited by many Chinese,” said Charles de Gaulle, with incredible insight.

FANS of Ang Lee’s “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” were caught by surprise when they learned that a sequel is being planned. Thirteen years after the original film debuted, they’d just about given up hope.

But the Weinstein Company has hired Yuen Woo Ping to direct this latest epic — he is extremely proficient in staging fight sequences, we hear. I recall “Crouching …” has something to do with stolen swords and people who can inexplicably fly, but otherwise, the details of the plot elude me now. (Well, it has been 13 years!) None of the original cast is returning except forMichelle Yeoh. 

If you ask yourself why this sequel is happening, think no further than China. Hollywood wants to make nice with China. Everybody wants to make nice with China! Movie-makers want to keep Chinese audiences and financers happy. What better way to spread joy than sequel-ing one of the most adored and iconic Chinese action films ever released? The “re-boot” as it is called these days will most likely debut in the summer or late fall of 2014.

The original film was fantastical fantasy, but since nothing succeeds like excess, “Crouching 2” will probably be in 3-D, which I find irritating. But then I find obsessive coverage of the Kardashians irritating. You see where irritation gets me?

CHANNEL-SURFING on Sunday nights is maddening. There’s “Game of Thrones,” “The Borgias,” “Nurse Jackie,” and “Mad Men.” This past Sunday the Billboard Awards were on, too. (I know I should get with it, and DVR everything, unless that’s now too early 2000s, and there’s something else even more convenient?) Anyway, as luck would have it, even though I tuned into the Billboard ceremonies only twice, they were the two moments I wanted to see. One was Taylor Swift, rocking down the aisle onto the stage doing an energetic version of her hit, “22.” (She ended up with eight awards.)

The other woman I wanted to see was Madonna, who accepted an award for her “MDNA” tour — the most successful of 2012. She picked up two other awards as well. (She’s so “over,” right?) Of course the Big M wore something that looked right out of a Fredericks of Hollywood catalog but she looked damn good. This is what she is, like or not. Madonna thanked her fans sweetly: “Without you, I would have no show to do. And every showgirl needs her show!”

I missed Justin Bieber complaining and being booed. Eh, next week, somewhere, I’ll catch that act.

MORGAN Freeman has become such a symbol of nobility and stability in his movies — he’s played God, he’s been the President … he’s been an attorney general … a good cop … a great detective.

Even his rare villains seem like guys you’d trust to baby-sit the kids. He has an amazing presence. And that authoritative, calming voice. It was watching Gary Cooper movies, Morgan has said, that inspired him to pursue an acting career!

Well, it’s likely you’ll find all of Morgan’s compelling gravitas in his new coming thriller, “Now You See Me.” This is about a group of illusionists who pull off bank heists. The trailer looks fascinating but often you can’t tell much from a trailer. Or, more often, the trailer tells too much! Anyway, there are magic tricks galore. This movie has quite a cast, aside from Morgan — and that’s one of the biggest asides in the movie world.

Also on board are Michael Caine … Mark Ruffalo … Jesse Eisenberg … Woody Harrelson … Dave Franco — the hot younger brother of James Franco … and Isla Fisher, who is seen in the current controversial maybe hit, “The Great Gatsby.”

Morgan Freeman has been nominated five times for the Oscar, winning for “Million Dollar Baby.” I don’t know if “Now You See Me” is Oscar caliber, but Mr. Freeman is always a pleasure to watch, and listen to. And that’s no illusion.

IT WAS great to see Paul Anka, famous since the ’60s promoting his new book “My Way” on “Morning Joe” last week. Anka has no axe to grind; he is just looking back remembering how he left home at age 15 and a half and started his music career. He looks great — grey suit and a pink tie and most of his hair.

“I got really lucky by sixteen. I started working with Frank Sinatra in Vegas before the Beatles happened and the new rock.”

Paul went on to rave about singer Michael Buble whom he says is “personable and intelligent.” Anka has five daughters and says Sinatra was the biggest influence and the most unforgettable person, even more so thanPresident John F. Kennedy. More power to the Paul Ankas of the world.

I see that another older-than-is-generally-allowed person has been in the world of news — and the Earth didn’t come to an end because she was all of 47 years old. I mean the gorgeous Cindy Crawford who knocked them dead at Cannes on the Riviera last week.

BETTER HURRY or you’ll be left out of the Martha Stewart Center for Living at Mt. Sinai honoring the one and only Marlo Thomas.Happens in June 11 on a Tuesday at the Starrett-Lehigh building, 601 West 26 Street, 9th floor.

Call to attend 914-579-1000 and I don’t have to explain to you, again, who Martha Stewart is and how historic philanthropic and wonderful Marlo is, do I?

GREAT BIG shout-out to Laura Linney, who has performed magnificently in the final four hour-long episodes of her Showtime series, “The Big C.” (The drama, about a woman battling cancer, concluded last night.) Showtime has promoted this as “the role of a lifetime,” and that’s not hyperbole. Linney has been brilliant every season, and this year, took it one step beyond; heartbreaking, life-affirming — so real it was difficult to watch at times. Linney has won three Emmys … two Golden Globes … a SAG award … she also has three Tony nominations and three Oscar nominations. (Why she has never won the latter two at least once baffles me.) In any case, I see a fourth Emmy for Miss Linney looming.

This column originally appeared on NYSocialDiary.com on 5/21/13

“YA, know, from the way that dame walks, she would have made a damn fine stripper in her day!”

So says Tessie Tura, commenting on Mama Rose, in “Gypsy.” (Tessie is one of the three strippers who belt out “You Gotta Have a Gimmick!”)

I’VE HAD “Gypsy” on my mind ever since I finished reading “Behind the Burly Q: The Story of Burlesque in America.” This entertaining, and often poignant book was written by Leslie Zemeckis. It is a more detailed version of Zemeckis’ 2006 film documentary of the same name. In the film, I thought that the remarkable Dixie Evans — “The Marilyn Monroe of Burlesque” — was the standout. Evans is so earthy, funny and real.

But the book opens up even more tales behind the twirling tassels. It tells of the comics, the talking women who worked with the comics (they rarely stripped — and few strippers would condescend to be a “talking woman” — even in an emergency.) and, of course, about those tantalizing beauties who took off as much as the law allowed.

And if a “pastie” popped or there was a bit of a “flash”, well — accidents happen. Amongst the bare: Sally Rand (she of famed feather fans), Rose La Rose, Sherry Britton, Margie Hart, Zorita, Tee Tee Red, Kitty West, Georgia Sothern, Ann Corio, Tempest Storm, Blaze Starr, Lili St. Cyr, and but of course, Miss Gypsy Rose Lee. 

Miss Lee wasn’t much liked, personally, but everybody seemed to admire her style: “She challenged and controlled her audience.”

(The real Gypsy looked nothing like luscious Natalie Wood in the movie version. One stage manager told Zemeckis of Gypsy: “She had a horrible body!”)

Each life story in this book is compelling, and most of the women don’t regret their careers, despite hardships on the road, being jailed occasionally, and perhaps not as much time for a normal family life as they might have wanted.

Many would have continued, had burlesque not been watered down by New York Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia,and by a more open society — namely pornography. The individual “gimmicks” that each lady employed — snakes, headstands, bathtubs, parrots, cats, agility with certain body parts — so as to stand out, makes for delicious reading.

There is a touching anecdote from Dixie Evans, who so resembled Marilyn Monroe. This speaks volumes about both women. After one of Marilyn’s miscarriages, Dixie, extremely upset, sent Marilyn an emotional telegram. Two weeks later Dixie received a response: “My dear Dixie Evans, of my many friends and acquaintances throughout the world, your telegram was of the greatest comfort to me at this time. Marilyn Monroe Miller.” (When Monroe died, Dixie became hysterical, “I was crying not only because my career was over, but because Marilyn was no longer in the world.”)

The book reminded me a lot of the documentary I saw just last week, “The Girls in The Band.” (And of Nathan Lane’s version of hidden gays in Burlesque in “The Nance.”) Their struggles were similar, though the musical ladies might not wish to be classed in with burlesque queens. Still, they were all women fighting for independence in a male dominated world, sharing a special camaraderie under often difficult circumstances. As Blaze Starrcomments in the foreword: “Burlesque provided an opportunity to many girls, like me, to escape poverty.”

And author/filmmaker Zemeckis is correct when she writes: “Burlesque thrived in its day and even though its time has passed, its influence is everywhere — in television, film and music today. We owe so much to the art form.”

Indeed! Why, just ask — Baz Luhrmann.

P.S. Isn’t it time for another revival of “Gypsy” on Broadway? I say yes.

WITH the serious news of Angelina Jolie’s double mastectomy rocking the public — at least that part of the public who are not fixated on President Obama’s “second term curse” — we ask: how will the glossy weeklies handle Angie and Brad from now on — or at least for a little while?

The magazines have made their bread and butter off this couple, having them splitting up, in fits of jealously, arguing and decoding their every move and gesture.

This famous pair are conjoined, tabloid-wise, with the stories speculating about Jennifer Aniston and her ongoing “heartbreak” and the Kardashian girls, as favorite targets. (Substitute “subjects” for “targets” if you find that fair.)

So, it’s bound to be a respectable couple of months before the tabs have Brad and Angelina at each other’s throats again, or going their separate ways. Anyway, these stars seldom cooperate, have no press agents that I know of and insiders claim that Angelina has all the magazines’ exact deadlines so she deliberately caused them to miss the latest flash on their covers by her adroit timing and reserve in her New York Times op ed piece.

But now, probably, the tabloidettes will concentrate for a while on sentimental tales of Angelina and Brad getting married. Because that part of the press has so much concern for legal niceties.

I’VE HAD more than one offer of money for an introduction to Gloria Steinem.But now the Ms. Foundation for Women, celebrating 40 years, will do its own thing, offering a one-on-one lunch with Gloria for donated bidding.

The Ms. Foundation is also auctioning off a chance to meet with Diane von Furstenberg of whom there is no “whom-ier” — for fashionistas and those who worry about other people’s welfare. If you bid on Diane, you get a $2,000 reward for a DVF fashion spree.

You can also win a two-night stay at the luxurious Westglow Resort & Spa in North Carolina, or a four-course dinner and wine at Chef Scott Conant’s Scarpetta. This chance closes May 29th so log onto www.charitybuzz.com/support/msfoundation.

This column originally appeared on NYSocialDiary.com on 5/20/13

“CHARITY begins at home!” some wise philosopher once said.

In this particular case, charity is home!

I WENT to a fundraiser last week for The Neighborhood Coalition where they had a “live auction’ and guests began offering up huge sums of money just to get it to end! They raised a considerable sum with this uncomfortable “blackmail.”

It’s one thing to have a quick five minute auction. But 40 minutes is beyond the pale. However, many needy adults and children find homes and shelter as a result. So it’s hard to quibble with that when so many of the needy haven’t a roof over their heads.

This event was in The Boathouse where the food is excellent, and one overlooks the Central Park Lake with gondola rides. My fellow honorees were the charming maestro Cathy Blaney of Bloomberg Philanthropies. She also heads the WTC Museum. She was honored along with Dr. Mary White, a veritable saint and care provider/researcher/HIV fighter.

These women practically have wings so I hid my little horns and pretended I was in their class, accepting accolades along with them.

Loved seeing the producer Fran Weissler who now has “Pippin” hot on Broadway. And my obstreperous pal Mickey Ateyeh who admired the beautiful Angela Cummings earrings I was wearing. (She gave them to me!) And I had fun with photographer Patrick McMullan.

I was asked to this event by Samuel Peabody, an old-fashioned gentleman, and he was with his health activist daughter Elizabeth and our friend from the Landmarks Conservancy, Scott Leurquin. I had a very good time helping in the fight to bring shelter to those who need it.

I congratulated the Shelter gang for their magnificent work and I tried not to bring down the tone.

I did tell a story that I love. Many years ago when the Rothschilds were momentarily driven out of France and had to operate their banks from NYC for awhile, I was seated next to the elegant Baron Guy de Rothschild at a charity dinner. The vaunted elegant Baron asked as the main course was served? “Miss Smith, explain why we are here? What is this event?”

I explained that the dinner was a fundraiser and people paid a great deal for tickets to benefit a charity. I told him that the U.S. governnment had more or less gotten out of charity business and it had landed on the private sector.

The Baron was amazed. He exclaimed: “The French would never do a thing like that!”

So I congratulated the nights’ elegant and very nice and generous crowd that they were not French and they had worked hard and made sacrifices of time and money to fill the gap. And this is a process that I thoroughly approve of and support. And you should too, once you choose the charity of your choice or one that means something to you.

And believe me, The Neighborhood Coalition for Shelter is a good choice.

Or are you just living for yourself?

I WAS SITTING AROUND a recent Sunday and happened on a festival of Reese Witherspoon movies.

I looked first at “Walk the Line” where she plays June Carter and I didn’t intend to stay with it, but I did, to the very end. Then that segued into “Sweet Home Alabama” which somehow, I had never seen or didn’t remember.

Reese just got better and better. Finally, I treated myself once more to the often-seen “Legally Blonde,” which I have never forgotten because my pal actress Holland Taylor has an important role in it.

But the orgy of gorging on Reese had its effect. She is a wonderfully compelling actress. She paid her dues, suffering a great deal of embarrassment because of the recent alcoholic incident, and deserves to be “forgiven” by a public that has probably had a much messier life than the usually circumspect Reese.

As for her acting métier — seldom has the Southern girl been played more convincingly or with more spirit than by Reese Witherspoon. And she wasn’t a bad Becky Sharpe in “Vanity Fair,” either. (I interviewed Reese for that one, and came away impressed by her composure and no-nonsense attitude.)

She has a movie out now called “Mud,” which remains to be seen and four more on the way. A major movie talent!

I GOT quite a kick this week because the two New York tabloids landed at my door. (Yes, I still pick up newspapers to read them!)

The New York Daily News critic Joe Neumaier had a headline “It’s a ‘Star Trek’ into greatness!” And following this rave, which was encouraging when it comes to the brand new “Star Trek Into Darkness,” came The New York Post‘s Lou Lumenick with his totally opposite headline “Lost In Space.” He didn’t like the movie one bit. He wrote “What the ‘Trek’! The limp plot of this silly new sequel has its phasers set to dumb.”

So more than ever, you have to go and make your own judgment. I am predicting a big hit no matter what critics say. After all, in real life we have the actual spacecraft “Kepler” going crippled and probably delaying more examinations of outer space.

This column originally appeared on NYSocialDiary.com on 5/17/13