Despite the fact that today is Christian Bale's birthday, he's the one who's given the blogosphere a present, in the form of an expletive-laden rant directed at Shane Hurlbut, the cinematographer on the film he's currently shooting, Terminator Salvation. Now, there's nothing the Average Joe likes more than proof that some pretty-boy prima donna really does hold his lessers in contempt, and no one has been enjoying watching this story play out in the press more than I have.
For all that, though, I must confess that I have a terrible temper; having been on a number of film sets myself, about the only display I've ever seen that even comes close to this came on the day I mistakenly offered Cholmondeley St. John-Mainwaring a juice box of orange without pulp, knowing he prefers it with extra pulp. Clearly I'm a better director than McG, because I immediately ordered the set cleared and the crew searched for recording devices, at which time we hugged it out.
Obviously, Mr. Bale, it's time to book yourself a bed at the Russell Crowe Clinic and get in touch with why you're so angry... Is it the swoon-inducing looks, the pots of money, the harem of Class A tail? Or is it a certain white powder whose principal side effect is rampant egomania? Either way, I'd figure it out before box office bait turns himself into box office poison...
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