You won’t believe this conversation. Even after this conversation I don’t believe this conversation.
Arriving for her terrific truth-based movie “Lion,” about a lost family found through Google, Nicole Kidman looked gorgeous. No line, wrinkle, blemish, scratch, pimple, or visible pore. Stunning. So was her Rodarte gown.
Me: “Great shmatta.”
Nicole: “Great what?”
Me: “Shmatta. Great shmatta you’re wearing.”
Nicole: “What’s a smotter?”
Me: “Not smotter. Shmatta.”
Nicole: “Smatta. What’s a smatta?”
Me: “Whatthehell’s wrong with you? You’ve spent time here, done Broadway, lived in New York. You don’t know the Yiddish street word for clothes, rags, the fashion trade?”
Nicole: “But I do know some Jewish words. Like a little thing’s a tsotsky.”
Me: “Not tsotsky. Tchotchke. What’s with you? You an Australian or an alien?”
Understand, 83 staring p.r. people, wanting me strangled like I’m having intense in-depth chat about “Lion,” which co-stars Rooney Mara and Dev Patel, and detaining glorious fabulous stunning Kidman against her will. But she wasn’t moving. So I wasn’t moving.
Nicole: “I also know the word fermissed.”
Me: “FerWHAT?”
Nicole: “A mixed-up person’s fermissed.”
Me: “FarMISHT. A ‘sh’ sound. FarMISHT. And the one farmisht is you.”
Nicole: (Between giggles) “Oh, OK. Fermished . . . fermished . . . fermished.”
With us, laughing, her handsome, definitely not farmisht husband, Keith Urban. Nearby a large press corps. Harvey Weinstein — actually wearing a tie — had brought “my friend Bill Clinton” to the “Lion” screening. The audience stood to applaud Clinton. And me, off to one side, teaching Nicole Kidman Yiddish.
Nicole (patting her slim stomach): “I know the word pipick.”
Me: “Pupick means belly button. Pronounce it correctly and, please, talk of your filming ‘Lion’ in India.”
Nicole: “Now you’re wrong. Not India. My character’s from Tasmania. We shot in Tasmania. Tasmania’s beautiful. Great cheese, wonderful art, glorious landscapes.”
Keith: “Just off Australia, it has everything. I loved it. I was there when I was 11.”
Chuck Scarborough, Patel, Edie Falco in striped knickers and boots went by, and before falling into an in-depth discussion of Tasmanian devils, I pointed them both to the snarling press corps.
Here’s what I’m hearing…
Sunday. Grand Hyatt, near Grand Central. Zionist Organization of America. Diners included Trump’s chief of staff trumper Steve Bannon. Last year they booed Obama. This year they cheered his departure…
Pay attention. A Ford Co. executive: “In 20 years there’ll be no private cars. So no garage, no insurance, no automobile payments, no repairs, no gasoline, no E-ZPass. It’ll be tap an app, and some Uberlike security system dispatches your driverless vehicle.”
ScarJo’s newie sounds bizarre
Tokyo organized whatever taiko drummers are and whatever Kenji Kawai performances are for Scarlett Johansson’s upcoming “Ghost in the Shell” whatever that is.
It’s about a special ops one-of-a-kind cyborg hybrid somebody who leads Section 9’s elite force to stop criminals and zap robot advancements in cyber technology. Ok?
The mother inquires about some forgotten event. The daughter answers: “I can’t remember.” The mother replies: “You don’t need to rely on memory. That’s what Google’s for.”
