When life hands you lemons, make limoncello. Give Danny DeVito (pictured) credit for finding a way to turn his embarrassing, liqueur-fueled appearance last November on The View into a profit center. Instead of apologizing for overindulging in the citrus cocktail behind those six minutes of train-wreck TV, he's marketing his own brand of limoncello. We applaud Mr. DeVito and hope other celebrities learn from his example. After all, rehab-averse chanteuse Amy Winehouse really ought to have her own wine house. Similarly, Mel Gibson should brand his own tequila. ("It's Apocalycious!") And Rush Limbaugh could market his own OxyContin and Viagra. ("Talent on loan from Pfizer.") The possibilities really are endless...

Straggling in more than three months after they've rolled up the red carpet at the Oscars, the MTV Movie Awards has always seemed like an afterthought, one last chance for the stars to plug last year's movies now that they're on DVD. This year, however, we might be motivated to care, for the following reasons:

? Sarah Silverman (pictured) is hosting. It'll be interesting to see if she can clean up her R-rated, politically incorrect act for the tween and teen viewers at home. Especially since...

? The show is live. Usually, it's taped five days in advance, but the June 3 show may actually have some spontaneous and suspenseful moments. Survivor/Apprentice evil genius Mark Burnett is producing the show this year; don't know if that means losers will be voted out of Hollywood or fired by The Donald and sent home in a taxi, but it does mean increased interactivity. He's encouraging fans to submit their own movie spoofs, and there'll be a giant Web wall running ongoing commentary from viewers. And of course, fans' votes help determine who will win in...

? Those wacky categories. Not all the suspense will come from seeing whether Sarah gets bleeped. There may actually be some real competition for some of these golden popcorn tubs. (Cinematical.com has helpfully handicapped the race.) Okay, maybe not that much competition (we agree with Cinematical that Borat and 300 will take home most of the popcorn), but there is one intriguing new category: "Best Summer Movie You Haven't Seen Yet" (nominees are post-June 3 releases Evan Almighty, Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer, Hairspray, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Rush Hour 3, and Transformers). In other words, viewers are being asked to vote on the ad campaigns instead of the movies themselves. Given how much more entertaining many campaigns are than the afterthought movies they promote (hello, Snakes on a Plane), this strikes us as a brilliant innovation in awards-granting, one that could save us all a lot of time next year when Oscar season rolls around.

Last night Michael Bublé, the Canadian crooner you've seen on the red carpet with girlfriend Emily Blunt (The Devil Wears Prada) ? and on American Idol without his usual charm (more on that in a bit) ? celebrated today's release of this third album, Call Me Irresponsible, with a performance at New York City?s Webster Hall. He swung so hard it hurt.

Bublé opened with the title track, which had more focus and oomph (it's a technical term) than it did last month on Idol ? when bloggers accused the Grammy-nominated singer of having a cocktail or two before the show. I chatted with Bublé recently for EW (look for him in the issue out Friday), and he told me he's never had a drink before he's gone onstage because he's too much of a control freak. His explanation: "Listen, I was nervous. I'm sitting there filling in for the greatest of all time [his mentor, Tony Bennett], on the biggest show in America, and perhaps I overcompensated and tried to calm myself down and be a little too cool for school. After about 20 seconds, I really felt like I got into it, and I actually had fun. But it's a scary thing."

Bublé looked perfectly at ease during his second number, the saucy "It Had Better Be Tonight (Meglio Stasera)," which gives the dual Italian citizen a chance to speak the language while his horn section has the opportunity to scream. His 13-piece band may look like The Daily Show writers on Emmy night, but those boys got soul. (I defy anyone to listen to them wail at the end of "Feeling Good," which Bublé did later as his encore, and not momentarily wish they'd taken up the trumpet.) When "It Had Better Be Tonight" ended, a women in the crowd seized the moment and announced that she was going to marry Bublé. "You're getting married to me, yay!" he answered. "I love you, too! But I'm still going to see other audiences."

He then segued into Call Me Irresponsible's steamiest cover, "Me and Mrs. Jones," which you can hear here. He dedicated it to the men in the room, since "it's about your wife cheating on you with a younger guy." (Lord knows my 59-year-old mother wouldn't pass up a night with Bublé, 31, or, since we're being honest here, with his buddy Josh Groban.) 

Emily Blunt sings fade-out vocals on the album cut of "Me and Mrs. Jones" and even though her "Same place, same time"s seem inconsequential there, once you've heard them, you kinda miss 'em. (Perhaps album producer David Foster does know what he's doing.) Still, the song killed, if you like that moment of anticipation when someone who starts a song singing seated on a stool stands up because he's about to vocally let loose. And I do.

After that, Bublé wanted to do something that reminded him of Vegas in the '50s, when everyone was "s---faced," and launched into "I've Got the World on a String." Nice, but the album version sells it even better. Then came "Save the Last Dance for Me," which got the people movin' ? and me wonderin' if someone in the band has ever missed a note because he was laughing at the people movin'.

Joking that "nothing brings out sexuality like... country music," Bublé admitted that he'd inadvertently co-written a country song in his hit single "Home," then sang hick-ed up renditions of it and "On the Road Again." I turned to my plus-one Karen and asked if he was making fun of "my people," and she, not particularly a country fan, said, "Yes." I, however, chose to believe that Bublé was just having fun, and that someone who prides himself on being "emotionally honest" in his music (see Irresponsible's tear-inducing cover of "Always on My Mind," recorded live in the studio without the usual digital voice enhancements) knows that it doesn't get more genuine than Mr. Willie Nelson. Also, when I'd asked Bublé which artist he'd like to cover but hasn't, he answered Bryan Adams, so you know he's in no position to cast stones.

To finish the hour-long set, Bublé drove the ladies in the front rows wild with Leonard Cohen's "I'm Your Man" (during which I seemed to have again scribbled "kinda hot when he has to get off the stool" in my notebook); the first single off Irresponsible, "Everything," one of two originals he co-wrote on the album; and an old show-stopper "How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved by You)," which his band rocks harder than the song has a right to. (Do you really need to devil-horn at a Bublé concert, people?)

So, there you have it. A night with the man whose name everyone loves to say (you know you do). You can catch Bublé ? and his custom-made Hugo Boss suits ? on tour this summer. Perhaps my mother and I will be seeing you.

Will the Virginia Tech massacre finally make us squeamish about extreme gore in movies? The New York Times seems to think so, judging by this article that suggests the upcoming Hostel: Part II (featuring Lauren German, pictured) may suffer at the box office because it may be too soon to enjoy a movie about the indiscriminate slaughter of college students. In fact, the article hints, such revulsion may spell the end of the whole torture-porn horror sub-genre.

To which I say, whoa, not so fast. My guess is that Hostel: Part II should do just fine when it opens June 8. Face it: you already knew whether or not you wanted to see it, even before Virginia Tech. The gorehounds' appetite for destruction hasn't gone anywhere; if anything, they may find Hostel cathartic after the trauma of inexplicable real-life mayhem. Remember after 9/11, when the studios had a sudden fit of good taste and decided to shelve any upcoming movie that might remind viewers of the tragedy? So everyone went to Blockbuster and rented Die Hard, in which the foreign-terrorists-in-a-skyscraper scenario had a more satisfying ending. (Meanwhile, the studios' period of cautious discretion lasted about six months, and then it was back to business as usual.)

The Times could be correct in guessing that the torture-porn vogue that began three years ago with Saw could well be over, but that's because horror sub-genres tend to run in cycles. (Remember all the J-horror remakes we got in the wake of The Ring? Not seeing too many of those anymore.) Taking the long view is horror vet John Carpenter, who suggests in this interview that what we're seeing now is part of an endlessly recurring pattern, in which horror filmmakers try to push the envelope, a backlash arises among tastemakers and self-appointed censors, and the fans (when they're ready) move onto the next scary thrill. At any rate, we shouldn't expect Hollywood to react and change too quickly. Not just because of the lag time between greenlight and release (if the studios decided to stop making torture-porn horror tomorrow, we'd still be seeing all the Hostel knockoffs currently in the pipeline trickle out for another 18 months), but also because, for better or worse, this is the business Hollywood is in ? and has been in for a long time. Grindhouse may not have been a hit, but as EW's Owen Gleiberman pointed out recently, the studios are nonetheless in the grindhouse business, not the good-taste business.

I'll let you decide, PopWatchers, whether that's a good or a bad thing. Show of hands: Plan to see the Hostel sequel? Has Virginia Tech affected your viewing choices? Does the current torture-porn wave represent a new extreme, or is it the same old gore with more realistic special effects? And is that wave still building, or has it crested?

Greg Kirschling: Missy Schwartz, we're almost a week in, so let's talk about the Tribeca Film Festival. Like you, I've done stints covering Sundance, Toronto, and Cannes, but this is my first Tribeca, and in one weird way, this festival seems bigger than all the others put together. Not because the star power is any greater, and God forbid not because the movies are any better ? more than a few are Sundance rejects ? but because NEW YORK CITY is itself the hugest venue in the world, and the festival is spread throughout half of Manhattan. Pounding the pavement, I'm finding it's harder to get a handle on what's REALLY going on because the festival is all over the place, unlike Sundance, Cannes, and Toronto, where you cover so much of the same geographical terrain over and over again. And there are more must-sees. What do you think?



Missy Schwartz: Greg Kirschling, I do agree. And as Tribeca grows creatively, it's also expanded geographically, spreading all the way to 34th street. (For our non-New Yorker readers, that's about three miles north of the downtown Tribeca 'hood.) Sticklers have taken issue with this, which really ticks off the fest's co-founders, Jane Rosenthal and Robert De Niro. On April 22, I had the pleasure of sitting down with them in (yes!) a Tribeca screening room, where they chatted about how the fest has changed and all that stuff over the past six years. As you know, Greg, the famously press-shy De Niro usually leaves the public speaking to Rosenthal, but since he'll be shooting the Barry Levinson flick What Just Happened throughout the festival and won't be in the city much, he decided to give us reporters a peek into his brain. And yeah, he deferred plenty to Rosenthal during our brief chat. Still, he was pretty friendly and game, telling me that this fest, born out of the ashes of 9/11, continues to strive to be socially relevant and to "reflect what's happening in the world. And that's through the movies, different types of movies, whether they be documentary or feature or whatever."

But the best part came when Rosenthal was talking about what, if any, themes have emerged this year. She mentioned the idea of "artist as activist."

JR: The power of the individual to do something, the individual spirit, does seem to be a theme throughout. [Turns to De Niro] Is that hokey?

RD: No, no, no, I was just...

JR: Want another apple?

RD: What was the question?

JR: Just the theme of the festival.

RD: I think what Jane said was... [Nods]

Love it!

GK: I saw De Niro a couple of days later, at the opening night ceremony. He looks SHARP. Since the night was devoted to a series of short films about global warming that I mostly found a little oversimple (riding bike to work GOOD, riding car to work BAD), Al Gore spoke too, and he capped off his speech by introducing Jon Bon Jovi, whom I didn't realize was such a friend of the Earth until Gore didn't stop going on and on about him. Bon Jovi played a warming-appropriate three song set. He opened with "Hallejulah," followed with a toned-down "Livin' on a Prayer," and closed with a version of "Here Comes the Sun" that managed to sound hopeful instead of, you know, apocalyptic. I was stirred.

MS: Speaking of being stirred, we all took a beating getting into the Spider-Man 3 screening in Astoria last night, didn't we? I'm convinced the entire borough of Queens turned up to see Tobey Maguire, Kirsten Dunst, et al sling down the red carpet. What a zoo. And here I thought the premieres over the weekend had been packed. On Friday, there was the improvised poker comedy The Grand, starring Woody Harrelson, Cheryl Hines, and Werner Herzog (!!), as well as the romantic comedy Suburban Girl, with Alec Baldwin and Sarah Michelle Gellar (pictured). But Sunday's The Air I Breathe, which stars Gellar (again!) as a pop star whose manager is a very bad gangster man played by Andy Garcia, was particularly nutty. Just as the house lights went down, a frantic festival worker raced up to my row and pleaded with the guy sitting to my left to give up his seat. Seems there was a major mess-up and there were no seats left for the cast and director, Jieho Lee. Uh-oh. Well, my neighbor was no fool. In a posh British accent, he politely told Mr. Manic to find another sucker to kick out. And that's just what fest dude did. He booted some folks on the other end of the row and Gellar, her hubs Freddie Prinze Jr., and pals got seats just a few feet away from yours truly. The night was saved!

But as for movies, other than the John Dahl-directed You Kill Me, starring Sir Ben Kingsley and Téa Leoni, I haven't seen anything yet that's rocked my world, Greg. Have you?

GK: I have, actually. The Education of Charlie Banks is the directorial debut of Limp Bizkit frontman Fred Durst, and I was taken aback at how very above average it was. I'll say it again: FRED DURST. Crazy, right? Jesse Eisenberg, the kid from The Squid and the Whale, stars as Charlie, a preppie at an upstate New York college in the early '80s who gets an extended visit from a New York City tough kid named Mick (Jason Ritter), whom he ratted out to the cops three years previous. Does Mick know Charlie blew the whistle? We don't know, but Durst packs in tension all over the place while also managing to nail down the wistful particulars of being young and being in college. It's a great coming-of-age-in-school movie, which is a preferred genre of mine. And it's just one of the several prominent movies here at Tribeca directed by actors: Julia Stiles has a short film called Raving, Before Sunset's great Julie Delpy has a feature called 2 Days in Paris, and later today I think I'm finally gonna see the directorial debut of Entourage's Kevin Connolly, which is called Gardener of Eden.

MS: Gardener of Eden, a.k.a. The TFF Movie Produced by Leonardo DiCaprio. See how it comes full circle, Greg? Bob (De Niro), Marty (Scorsese, who was at your opening night gala) and now, Leo! Good ol' Tribeca, bringing the boys together. Have fun at Eden. I'm a-gonna get my Gallic on and check out Daniel Auteuil and Monica Bellucci in Napoleon and Me. Dare me to bust out singing ABBA's "Waterloo" in the middle of the theater?

"I'm a little lad who loves berries and cream."

Dance, little lad, dance!

Sting's lyrics (from the Police and his solo years) will be immortalized in a book this fall. Appropriately titled Lyrics by Sting, it will also feature his commentary on the origin and meaning of each song.

Now, PopWatch editor Gary Susman says, "Besides Bob Dylan and Elvis Costello, I'm hard-pressed to think of anyone whose collected lyrics I'd enjoy reading cover to cover." I myself would prefer to see Duran Duran dissect their impenetrable prose. (My friend Sheila, a longtime Durannie, insists that one day she'll enter the University of Liverpool's Popular Music Studies graduate program and write her thesis on "The Meaning of 'The Reflex.'")

So which artists' lyrics do you think really merit a book anthology? And how far behind the music do you actually want to go? Some artitsts don't want you to know their inspiration because they think it stops you from interpreting a song for yourself. Some music fans don't want to know that, say, the Dixie Chicks' song "Lullaby" is actually about a child, not a lover. I think I'm capable of knowing why someone wrote what they did and still bastardize it in my own mind, thanks.

Get-well wishes go out to Ellen DeGeneres, who, TMZ reports, injured her back over the weekend and will host Tuesday's and Wednesday's shows (at least) from a bed placed on her talk show set. No details were immediately known about why she's in the reclined position, but we certainly look forward to hearing the story.

Regardless, DeGeneres won't be dancing anytime soon. Which you may not think is a bad thing until you (re)watch recent guest Ryan Gosling teaching her how to salsa. They don't actually get busy until 9 mins. and 30 secs. into the interview but you'll want to see the whole chat anyway. Fracture, Gosling's new movie with Anthony Hopkins, may not earn him another Academy Award nod, but while promoting it, he gave the best performance on a talk show in recent memory ? and a master class in how to be a memorable talk-show guest, as you'll see after the jump.

Gosling started off with a story about how his beehive-wearing mother was miserable at the Oscars because her hairdresser had falsely predicted that would be the look? until he explained the situation to stranger Meryl Streep, who then leaned over and said, "You know, I almost wore my hair up, too. I'm so jealous, I wish I had."

He offered a movie plug that didn't feel like one. Gosling talked about how Hopkins will start barking like a dog on set if he sees you taking yourself too seriously: "But the thing is that everything he does is so good that it sounds exactly like a dog. You can almost hear it. You're like, 'It's a three-legged shepherd," he paused, "with a kidney problem."

Then he had fun with an audience member who had suggestively strutted her stuff to "Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground)" during the commercial break: "She's not just a dancer, she's a storyteller.... She has a deeper understanding of the song than we do."

Finally, he taught Ellen to salsa, taking her hand and saying, "I'll try not to get fresh with you, but it's a very sexy dance, you're a beautiful woman and I'm only human." Deadpan, he then placed her hand in the proper position ? on his butt. She laughed. Viewers giggled. His publicist should be very proud. That's how you do a talk show, boys. Be charming; use a clever story to plug your movie with that beloved costar instead of a boring "he's such a professional" line; be funny and personable; and play. When you do that, no one feels the need to ask about your private life. Or to show this clip of you as a Mouseketeer.

Courtney Love plans to hold a Christie's auction (at a date to be announced) of Kurt Cobain's possessions, website Spinner.com reports. At first, Love doesn't exactly sound like the sentimental type: "[My house] is like a mausoleum. My daughter [14-year-old Frances Bean] doesn't need to inherit a giant Hefty bag full of flannel f---ing shirts ... A sweater, a guitar and the lyrics to 'Teen Spirit' ? that's what my daughter gets. And the rest of it we'll just f---ing sell." But in the end, she proves she is: "I still wear his pajamas to bed," she said. "How am I ever going to go form another relationship in my lifetime wearing Kurt's pajamas?"

Do you think, PopWatchers, that Christies (and Love's statement that she'll donate some of the proceeds to charity) will add class and dignity to a sale that, to skeptics, might look like another crass attempt to cash in on her husband's legacy? And will you be bidding?

The greatest threat Jack Bauer (Kiefer Sutherland, pictured) has ever faced may be viewer ennui. According to the Los Angeles Times, 24's producers are feeling the sting of criticism and defection of viewers over the ho-hum plot twists of Day 6 (count me among those fans not feeling this season, especially in contrast to the gripping Day 5), and they're promising big changes next year. "This year could be seen to be the last iteration of it in its current state," writer/executive producer Howard Gordon says ominously.

How radical will next season's changes be? Maybe not that radical; "It won't be a musical or a half-hour," Gordon tells the Times. Also, Jack won't be undergoing any major career changes; as Gordon puts it, Bauer "won't be flipping burgers."

Actually, I'd kind of like to see Jack flipping burgers. "You have five seconds to tell me the secret sauce recipe, or I'm going to put your face in the fryolator." Seriously, Gordon & Co. need to do something different, not just because longtime fans are finding 24's current storytelling predictable and stale, but also because (as the article notes) it's not 2002 anymore, and American viewers are increasingly skeptical of 24's terror-threat scenarios, just as they are of the government's efforts to sell a real-life War on Terror. So let's have it, PopWatchers? What challenges should Jack Bauer face on Day 7? What would 24 have to do to become must-watch Monday-night viewing again?