Ulrich Muhe, the German actor and star of the Oscar-winning art-house hit "The Lives of Others," died Sunday at the age of 54. In "Lives" he played Gerd Wiesler, a pallid Stasi spook who gets emotionally involved with the theater couple whose surveillance he's overseeing. It was a memorable and touching role that introduced Muhe to international audiences after a busy decade and a half in German film and TV; after the Oscar win, his agent received numerous offers from producers in the U.S. and elsewhere. He was respected enough that German Chancellor Angela Merkel sent a public letter of condolence today to Muhe's widow, actress Susanne Lothar.

The cause of death was stomach cancer, but the Hollywood Reporter obit includes "Lives" director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck's statement that the ailment stemmed from Muhe's experiences in the East German military in the 1970s, when he developed stomach problems after being ordered to shoot fugitives escaping over the Berlin Wall. (The Spiegel Online obit has further details.)

It's possible, then, that Gerd Wiesler's expression of pained sympathy was real. The character's final words in "The Lives of Others," responding to a novel dedicated to his Stasi code-name, are "Das ist for mich" -- "That is for me." Perhaps the role served a similar cathartic purpose for Ulrich Muhe. Or perhaps it was just his art.

Perhaps the most brutally frank assessment of the sad little implosion that is currently Lindsay Lohan can be read halfway through David Halbfinger's business piece in today's Times: "I believe she?s uninsurable. And when you?re uninsurable in this town, you?re done.?

That's Bernie Brillstein, legendary agent/manager/producer and a guy who once represented John Belushi and Chris Farley. So presumably he knows something about people who can't stop putting things up their nose. His statement gets to a nasty truth about Hollywood -- that no matter how people cluck their tongues in dismay or sympathy over a celebrity tailspin, it's finally all about business.

And Lohan's business is headed for Chapter 11. (If you haven't heard, the actress was arrested yesterday after apparently chasing her former personal assistant's mother in a SUV; she had a high blood-alcohol count and a small amount of cocaine in her possession. So much for Hollywood rehab.) The Times article also reports how Lohan's legal woes may pull the financing out from under the independent film "Poor Things," currently in pre-production. Sad that the presence in the cast of two Oscar-winning actresses, Shirley MacLaine and Olympia Dukakis, means less to investors than a train-wreck of a post-adolescent, but there you go. I'm not blogging about MacLaine and Dukakis either, am I?

Lohan's woes have also put a damper on the release of "I Know Who Killed Me" (photo above), which opens this Friday without benefit of critics' screenings. (I'll catch it at the first showing then and post my review here later in the day; it'll run in Saturday's paper.) We reviewers are used to this treatment -- not happy about it, but used to it -- when it comes to D-grade horror movies like "Captivity," but when a studio embargoes a film with a star this big, that means it's either unwatchable or they're embarrassed to be associated with her or both.

Judging from "Georgia Rules," I'm guessing the latter.

I can’t stand Michael Savage (aka Michael Weiner). He, like Bill O’Reilly, gives conservatism a bad name. Savage is like O’Reilly, but worse. He has created a climate on his radio show where callers are typically one of two kinds: A) complete ass-kissers (“Dr. Savage, I think you are the greatest…”) or B) anyone else. […]

I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry is a perfect example of a comedy that, despite its good intentions, fails to explore a controversial issue because it completely surrenders to idiotic jokes and stereotypes instead of approaching its subject matter with subtle wittiness. But what is there to expect from a flick that stars high-profile comedian Adam Sandler as a hardcore playboy pretending to be gay? Right, you got it. (more…)

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This is one of the best put-downs I’ve ever come across in a book review:
Judging by the tone of his writing, Gray is well insulated by self-esteem, but I’d like to think that, one day, even he will pick up this book and wince like a drunkard remembering what he said the previous night.

The great cinematographer, who fled Hungary for the U.S. in 1957 and went on to shoot many of the key "New Hollywood" films of the 1970s, was 74. "Easy Rider," "Five Easy Pieces," "Paper Moon," "Shampoo," and "New York, New York" -- these are all great films and critical documents of their period, and Kovacs defined them as much as did their directors (respectively, Dennis Hopper [with Kovacs, above], Bob Rafelson, Peter Bogdanovich, Hal Ashby, and Martin Scorsese). He shot "Ghostbusters," too, instilling a fear of the Upper West Side in a generation of children.

The L.A. Times obit has a good thumbnail bio and a nice anecdote about "Easy Rider," but the most fitting tribute you could give the man is to rent "The King of Marvin Gardens," Rafelson's brooding 1972 drama of brotherhood and the death of the American dream. Never has Atlantic City looked so beautiful and so diseased. Thanks, Laszlo.