Stephen Colbert hangs with New York Cardinal Timothy Nolan (PatrickMcMullan)

- The Amazing Spider-Man's Andrew Garfield and girlfriend Emma Stone managed to turn an invasion on their privacy into a mitzvah when they used a weekend paparazzo swarm to show off handmade cardboard signs for the Worldwide Orphans Foundation and Gilda’s Club of New York City. Hopefully they weren't arrested as OWS protestors.

- Suri Cruise finished her very first week at Avenues, the new private school in NYC. Though "private" is a relative term when there are people waiting in the bushes to take photos of you during snack time.

- Nicki Minaj joined Keith Urban as an American Idol judge, spending her first days on the job fighting with Mariah Carey and beginning New York auditions. That's got to be worth $12 million, right?

- Stephen Colbert joined New York Cardinal Timothy Dolan onstage at Fordham University on Friday, telling the Jesuit school students that despite the flaws in the Roman Catholic hierarchy, he loved his Church, "warts and all." No, he wasn't in character. Stop being so cynical.

- Seth MacFarlane kicked off a "meh" premiere of Saturday Night Live, but maybe that's because his face just looks so damn punchable. The night's best sketch didn't involve the guest star at all, with an Obama-sponsored political ad.

Creative Director Francisco Costa alongside Diane Kruger, Emma Stone and Amy Adams.

We love the clean lines and abstract nature of Francisco Costa’s designs for Calvin Klein Collection. Of Brazilian descent, he has an unmatchable talent for creating wearable art that is minimal and wearable—perhaps the only one who provides a Parisian level of artistic thrills in New York.

We had some time to spare before the show began—a departure from our general habit of sprinting four blocks and arriving sweaty and out of breath at the last minute. We left our seat-mates Bianca Jagger, Julie Macklowe and Kelly Klein, to name a few, to explore the front rows.

Amy Adams, Diane Kruger, Emma Stone and photographer Patrick Demarchelier were all present, but our vigilant eyes sought out someone less obvious: W Magazine’s Fashion and Style Director, Edward Enninful.

“What are some of the highlights for you?” The Observer asked.

"September is the January of fashion," said Edward Enniful, who was flanked by Hollywood's hottest.

“Oh my goodness, there have been a couple of really great shows. I really enjoyed Proenza [Schouler]. I really enjoyed Rodarte, Marc Jacobs,” he replied, browsing the endless catalog of styles he had presumably witnessed in the past week; an unbearable fashion overload, it seems.

“How have you enjoyed W and growing there?” we carried on.

“With a great team, there is so much freedom ... It kinda of encourages you to do the best you can. We’re having a ball!” Mr. Enninful told The Observer.

Indeed, but is the ball worthwhile, we wanted to know. “Why is fashion week so important for stylists?”

“It’s like the Oscars of fashion. It’s like a get-together on one hand, and you decide how the whole year is going to be, how the whole season is going to be mapped out. September is the January of fashion.”

Well put. We bid adieu to Mr. Enniful, who was off to London in a few hours for more style and mayhem.

There was a sense of powerful austerity and dark romance for spring 2013, and it delivered a bold, physical (read: sexualized) reaction. There is a curiosity to the clothing, one that our fashion eyes could not decipher. Chiaroscuro, cinched waists and overemphasized busts, and innovative fabrics captured the fashion frenzy’s weary attention. The looks featured interesting moiré appearances, glossy leathers layered over tranquil matte crepes and cotton voiles in muted black, reed and cream colors. It highlighted a richness that was not opulently crass.

Looks from the spring 2013 collection.

A novice would have likened the proportions of several dresses to rolls of toilet paper under silk or waxed netting over a cage, but such individuals shouldn’t even be permitted to grace a Calvin Klein Collection boutique.

To end with a bang is no small feat after innumerable ready-to-wear collections of relatively unmoving, routinely practical and safe proportions. American’s sportswear isn’t in a rut; it just is what it is. How lucky we are to have Calvin Klein’s Mr. Costa. We don’t have any callous commentary, just rare bliss, which sadly ended the moment we exited onto ghastly, repulsive 39th Street.

So, which party had the best-dressed attendees?

Streep (Getty Images)

Last night's Oscars were as draggy as ever--perhaps it's time to give up the ghost of the hope that they can magically become a breezy ceremony, or at least to stop complaining annually that the jokes are hackneyed and the show's self-congratulatory. The jokes being hackneyed are kind of the point, and, given that this is a Hollywood trade show, the self-congratulation is REALLY the point. And the tributes would not have been so terrifically vague had they been able to be directed at nominated films people had seen--the Bridesmaids-a-palooza in the middle of the show should serve as a reminder of what the tributes at the Oscars look like when they're aimed at hit movies from this year and not "hit movies from all time."

The show's biggest surprise came late in the evening, when Meryl Streep beat out supposed front-runner Viola Davis for the Best Actress trophy; for those hoping for an epochal Oscar moment, it was both disappointing (Ms. Davis would have been only the second ever black Best Actress) and vivifying (Ms. Streep's Oscar was her third--and her first since 1983). The rest of the ceremony went according to plan, with top nominees The Artist and Hugo both winning five awards, the former in major categories and the latter in minor ones.

What else sticks out the morning after? Emma Stone's eagerness to take from Anne Hathaway the mantle of "the one eager to sing and dance" after it didn't quite work out for Ms. Hathaway. Chris Rock nailing sixty seconds of standup and, yes, fine, whatever, the same old Billy Crystal jokes Mom and Dad like. (We will say we've never gotten the "What the nominees are thinking" thing, but people apparently like it?) The Christopher Guest-directed Wizard of Oz parody, so utterly random it felt like a wonderful mistake. The indication that Tom Cruise has been rehabilitated by Hollywood in that he got to present Best Picture. Perhaps the best moment of last night was the appearance of Melissa Leo, the weird warrior queen of the 2011 Oscars, in a relatively normal sequined dress presenting an Oscar to someone else. Last year, she stole Kirk Douglas's cane--and this year, she just smiled and applauded and watched time march on and another Oscar ceremony enter the books.

Meryl Streep, Oscar presenter (Getty Images)

The Academy has released an incomplete list of this weekend's Oscar presenters. Based on past experience, what categories shall they present. Here are our best guesses!

Christian Bale will present Best Supporting Actress; Melissa Leo will present Best Supporting Actor; Colin Firth will present Best Actress; Natalie Portman will present Best Actor. This gender-swapping return of last year's winners is a predictable tradition; the only thing surprising about it is that Melissa Leo won an Oscar one year ago instead of eight, which is how long ago it feels.

Halle Berry will present Best Documentary Feature and Short. This seems like her level of fame right now.

The cast of Bridesmaids will present Best Costume Design. Because women can make jokes about dresses!

Bradley Cooper and Emma Stone will present Best Sound Editing and Mixing. Only two charming young(ish, in Mr. Cooper's case) stars can get us excited about two seemingly indistinguishable categories.

Tom Cruise will present Best Picture. Doesn't it seem sort of weird that he never has? And doesn't it seem as though he's been fully rehabilitated?

Penélope Cruz will present Best Cinematography. Sure!

Cameron Diaz will present Best Art Direction. This is the sort of early-in-the-ceremony category for which it's perfect to have on hand an early-2000s star whose rep couldn't arrange something later in the ceremony.

Michael Douglas will present Best Director. He's already presented Best Picture twice but he's still a pretty prestigious guy. Practice saying "Hazanavicius," Gekko!

Will Ferrell and Zach Galifianakis will present Best Visual Effects. And do some sort of Rise of the Planet of the Apes-themed skit in the process.

Tina Fey will present Best Makeup. And tell a joke about how much makeup it takes to keep her from looking like either a wrinkled old man or an acne-scarred teenager in the process.

Tom Hanks will present the "In Memoriam" montage. He can't present Best Picture because one of his own films is nominated (the Academy's actually done this before when Jack Nicholson presented the prize to The Departed, but let's hope they learned from how gauche that looked) and his presenting Best Director would only call attention to the fact that he directed Larry Crowne last year. The only other thing someone with all Mr. Hanks's gravitas can do is present this segment.

Angelina Jolie will present Best Foreign Language Film. What a wonderful way for her to seem benevolent in defeat after not having been nominated for her own foreign film (which was not eligible in this category).

Jennifer Lopez will present Best Original Song. A theoretical actress and theoretical singer, Jennifer Lopez is the perfect simulacrum of a presenter of a music category at the Oscars.

Meryl Streep will present Best Adapted and Best Original Screenplay. "For actors [giggle, stern look over glasses], it all begins with a script," the star of The Iron Lady will inaccurately say.

We braced for the worst on the last day of New York Fashion Week, when Calvin Klein (and KCD) sent The Observer this alarming email warning:

“As a reminder, you are confirmed to attend the Calvin Klein Collection Fall 2012 Women's show today at 2PM.  We have been made aware that the Occupy Wall Street movement has plans to stage a non-violent demonstration in the vicinity of our show.  Please note that we have taken extra security efforts to ensure the safety of our guests and that the entrance process into our venue is as seamless as usual.  In light of this, all guests will be required to show email verification of a seat assignment and a form of photo identification. Please bring both with you this afternoon.

The event will be held at 205 West 39th Street and your seat assignment is L-2-2.”

Duly noted!

The rain that day didn’t justify an umbrella (besides which we lost ours at Michael Kors…) Turns out—the PR precaution, while wise and considerate, was unnecessary as well.

“Occupy fashion week!” one pitifully quiet and tattered protester yelled as we marched past him.

Well-accustomed to the photo I.D. process by now, we dutifully cooperated before entering the pitch-black showroom.

Only two rows of seating boasted an impressive roster of fashion bigwigs, whose names were perfectly printed in each spot. Calvin Klein Eternity eau de parfum accompanied the name placards… perfect for re-gifting!

Patrick Demarchelier, Mario Sorrenti, Vinoodh Matadin and Inez van Lamsweerde sat directly in front of us!

“Tout va bien?” Mr. Demarcherlier greeted Ms. van Lamsweerde.

A quick span of the room, revealed even more glitterati. The arrivals of Lara Stone (supermodel/spokeswoman for Calvin Klein), Emma Stone and Rooney Mara gave Billy Farrell and cohorts plenty to do…

Creative director Francisco Costa has evolved the brand’s signature aesthetic to an unparalleled level of ultra-refined, minimalism. Mr. Costa didn’t disappoint for winter 2012/13 either.

The click-clack of the models’ heels was still audible over the austere soundtrack...

They wore firmly structured, glazed wool/mohair collarless coats with hammered silver belts--in exaggerated proportions. There was a weightlessness with the severity, however. On the lighter end, were shades of poppy and sienna on wool tweed shift dresses, with strong pleats. The texture of the fabrics easily conveyed their value.

Leather skirts, tops and dresses were balanced by soft cashmere—some in bold tones. What really made a statement, were the onyx embroidered, laser-cut wool separates and knotted silk embroidery bodice dresses (that glistened as if beaded appliqué).

Beautiful!

As we slowly sauntered out, it seemed that the fashion frenzy had sobered… Calvin Klein Collection was a peaceful end.

Images: Dan Lecca and Patrick McMullan.

Octavia Spencer and Viola Davis in 'The Help.'

If fried chicken were really as restorative as the new movie The Help seems to think, Jim Crow laws probably wouldn’t have originated in the South. But in the world of Kathryn Stockett’s novel (and now film), Southern stereotypes are given a retro, glossy sheen, and ingrained racial tension can be resolved by a plucky white debutante’s first novel.

In the real world, the chances of an earnest deb resolving the racial tensions in 1960s Jackson, Miss., with her first writing project would have been pretty slim. But if you can suspend your disbelief that a cute 22 year-old had the power to succeed with civil rights where Martin Luther King and President Kennedy failed, The Help actually has a lot to offer.

Ms. Stockett’s story follows Skeeter Phelan (Emma Stone), a recent graduate of Ole Miss who returns to her hometown of Jackson to find that her girlfriends have calcified into terrible approximations of their mothers. They’ve been raised by strong black women, but instead of appreciating that work, they are now employing (and mistreating) those same women in their own homes.

The ringleader of this group is Miss Hilly (Bryce Dallas Howard), who prances around town spearheading a disturbing initiative to get white families to build separate toilets outside their homes for “the help.”

Disgusted by her peers’s racism, Skeeter decides to publish the stories of some of her friends’ maids in an effort to jumpstart her journalism career and try to achieve some justice for these women.

Inserting a white woman into these maids’ stories is a strange rhetorical trick, which is partly why Ms. Stockett’s novel earned plenty of critics when it debuted in 2009. But that didn’t slow its rise up the best-sellers list, or get in the way of wooing a stellar cast (despite the fact that director Tate Taylor only has one feature under his belt and got the rights because he is a childhood friend of Ms. Stocketts).

And the uneven racial terrain of the film likely won’t stand in the way of multiple nominations for some truly outstanding performances throughout the movie. Unfortunately, Ms. Stone’s is not one of them. It’s not entirely her fault. There is something incredibly unsettling about needing a white socialite narrator to tell the story of abused black women, and Emma Stone does not possess the acting nuance to pull it off. In The Help the sexy, raspy voice and adorable delivery that served her well in light teen films like Easy A and Superbad just aren’t enough. She’s in far over her head here, and so are the many young women who prance around the screen like they’re trying on their mother’s vintage clothes with just a dash of period-piece racism added to the look.

More powerful is how well Viola Davis (as Aibileen Clark) and Octavia Spencer (as Minny Jackson) take to their roles as maids who endure the difficulties of growing up black and poor in the South.

It’s hard to avoid falling into stereotypes when playing such a stock character type, but Ms. Davis and Ms. Spencer expertly draw Aibileen and Minny as smart, agile women struggling to survive in a culture pit against them. Their wisdom and cooking skills may be mystically overdrawn, but these women can make you believe anything. Only Cicely Tyson borders on mammyism as the elderly maid who raised Skeeter, but she brings a strong emotive tug into each of her short scenes.

In general, the older actresses fair better than their younger counterparts. Sissy Spacek has a blast as Miss Hilly’s mother, who often uses bouts of Alzheimer’s to her advantage. And Allison Janney does her best as Skeeter’s thinly drawn mother. Jessica Chastain is the only young actress who manages to own her character, instilling a bombshell trophy wife with humor and depth.

In contrast, Ms. Stone has been given some strange direction to play up her awkward side. She uncomfortably bounces through scenes in a series of improbably awful wigs, and the character of Skeeter often appears naïve to the point of undermining her own efforts.

Which might actually be the most optimistic thing about The Help. Maybe next time these black actresses won’t need a white narrator to get their films made.

Running time 137 minutes

Written and directed by
Tate Taylor

Starring Emma Stone,
Viola Davis, Octavia Spencer

2/4

editorial@observer.com

Terry says, 'Vote Stringer in 2013!'

Terry Richardson may have shot Mila Kunis for this month’s GQ, but the Transom saw him walking the red carpet for the actress’s casual-sex rom-com Friends With Benefits with a beautiful brunette of the totally opposite vocation. The mystery girl walked through the pouncing rows of shutterbugs unnoticed: until now she’s been known for her press releases, not movie releases. She’s Audrey Gelman, press secretary for Manhattan borough president Scott Stringer.

It turns out the pair have been together since the spring, and they’ve been spotted at the various spots and parties that have always welcomed Mr. Richardson with open arms. Despite many a well-documented encounter with women over the years, the raunchy glossy mag photographer hasn’t seemed too interested in settling down with any of the models and ingénues he shoots.

Ms. Gelman is the youngest press secretary in the city, making her a well-positioned mouthpiece to a 2013 mayoral candidate. Before that, she had a coveted spot as an aide in the war room of Hillary Rodham Clinton’s campaign.

But she’s not the typical type-A city politico. Ms. Gelman’s an old friend of the downtown-famous Lena Dunham and has a featured spot on her forthcoming Judd Apatow-produced HBO series Girls. And let’s hope Mr. Richardson isn’t a Yankees fan: the tattoo inked on Ms. Gelman’s lower lip reads “LET’S GO METS.”

The better half of Manhattan’s unexpected It Couple declined to comment. Mr. Richardson was unavailable at press time, and thus, unavailable. They were also missing from the Friends With Benefits after-party at the Standard. Whom did Ms. Gelman keep Terry from shooting?

Audrey Gelman

Only the likes of Liv Tyler, Emma Stone, Courtney Love, Zoë Kravitz and, of course, the film’s stars, Ms. Kunis and Justin Timberlake. The duo held court in a well-guarded corner of Le Bain, where other attendees scaled rain-slicked benches just to get a glance. The Transom was helped into the cluster of chairs by Ms. Kunis, whom we had last seen cavorting with Wolf Blitzer before the White House correspondents’ dinner.

“You know what? I prefer L.A.,” she said as we sat next to each other, staring out to the Jersey skyline across the river. “It’s nice to be here, but, well, you know.”

Could she introduce us to Justin?

“Oh, he’s doing his thing right now,” she said. He was—Mr. Timberlake was crouched between two girls, entering numbers into his phone.

We waited until he was done and then asked what it was like to play a GQ staffer.

“Well, I played an art director, not a writer, so it was a little different from your type,” he told the Transom.

We concurred, but noted that you can’t get a GQ job without that dapper-writer style.

“And it was fun to edit that piece, though,” he said, referring to a miniprofile of him that ran in a recent issue of the magazine with his corrections scrawled in the margins. “Who was I working with? Um … ”

Wasn’t it Lauren Bans? We were pretty sure …

“Yeah! Lauren, she was great.”

The Transom would have gone on with Mr. Timberlake, the two of us comparing our prose strategies and favorite writers and such, but as more and more people tried to get by the bodyguards, Mr. Timberlake departed the misty Le Bain balcony, perhaps to find some friends, benefits, or both.

@nfreeman1234

Emma Stone!

For the first time since January 2008, the cover of Vanity Fair this month features an individual working actress under the age of 30. Hello, Emma Stone! (We're still kind of figuring out which one you are!) One wonders if something's gotten in the water at Vanity Fair--the magazine's typical nostalgia for dead celebrities (last year saw Elizabeth Taylor, Grace Kelly, and--sigh--Marilyn Monroe covers) has been replaced by nostalgia for the late-nineties days in which untested stars used to romp across the cover. Teenage Natalie Portman! A near-unknown Charlize Theron!

2011 Vanity Fair is getting a little riskier than the dead-and/or-hyperfamous formula it had landed on in the past couple of years (excepting big group shots, which always have had and always will have a few random unknowns in there). This year saw covers by desperate post-celebrity Rob Lowe, neither (yet) dead nor (now) hyperfamous, as well as, randomly, the costume-loving pop singer Katy Perry. Risk! Oddity! The nineties are back! Between Ms.

Gretchen Mol!

Stone and Ms. Perry, one of them stands a decent chance of going the way not of Ms. Portman but of Gretchen Mol--the anonymous starlet granted a cover and fashion spread in the magazine, then not heard from again.

ddaddario@observer.com :: @DPD_

"An outrageously outsized sentence garners attention for all the players involved, but brings only sadness to the poor soul who has to serve it. I am 100% behind Lindsay and can say the same for everyone involved in the production of Inferno: A Linda Lovelace Story. Indeed, we are proud to have this remarkable artist work on our film."

What a stand-up guy! Too bad this is Hollywood, where directors have been known to change their minds. On the off-chance that Wilder is one of those directors -- plus he doesn't actually say he won't replace her -- here are four actress that can ably step in for Lohan in what is surely to be one of the most talked about female performances in whatever year the film is finally released.

Anne Hathaway

OK, so she's already made her leap from teen star to serious adult -- and the role would require much more nudity than she's accustomed to -- but if anyone has the pure acting chops to pull off something like this, it's Hathaway. She's always seemingly up for a challenge -- Rachel Getting Married, Shakespeare in the Park, singing with Hugh Jackman at the Oscars -- so Inferno seems ideal. That she'd be replacing Lindsay Lohan -- an actress well beneath her talents -- is decidedly less ideal.

Odds: 100-to-1.

Emma Stone

There is the simple fact that she looks like Lindsay Lohan -- that hair, that voice! -- but Emma Stone (Zombieland, Superbad, the upcoming Mean Girls-like Easy A) has one thing going for her that Lohan does not: Reliability! If she's looking to transition into a world of adult roles, this could be her chance. Of course co-starring in the adaptation of the acclaimed novel The Help will probably do that for her too, and she won't have to lustily shake her butt in front of a dog in that one.

Odds: 20-to-1.

Anna Faris

She was originally attached to star in Inferno -- with Sam Rockwell! -- but had to drop out in 2008. She's filming the romantic comedy What's Your Number? right now, and she's got tons of stuff in the pipeline -- hey, there's that Private Benjamin remake you always wanted! -- but if she could find room, why not try to tackle this role again?

Odds: 11-to-1.

Megan Fox

If you want controversial, you go with Megan Fox. With her career somewhat in tatters following her exile from Transformers 3 -- which, be honest, isn't a bad thing -- Fox needs to show audiences that she has another card to play. Sure, being Linda Lovelace means being eye candy, but the script reviews that have appeared online paint Inferno as a harrowing tale of abuse, depravity, desperation  and sexual exploitation. If Fox could pull it off, this could be her ticket to actual stardom and not just another Maxim cover.

Odds: 3-to-1.