Evan Agostini/Invision/AP
Ode to the H’wood journey
Ralph Fiennes and Juliette Binoche, stars of the years-old Oscar-winning “The English Patient,” are back. After 20 years — haggard, unrecognizable — he washes up in Ithaca in the new film “The Return.”
No more haggard or unrecognizable, we sat in Lincoln Square Theater’s lobby on metal fold-up chairs provided by our host Andrew Saffir.
Gorgeous in his tweedy coat, Ralph said: “The movie is Juliette and my first encounter in 20 years.”
Me: Yeah . . . so?
“So you see me nude. Nothing on front or back. Walking about, standing there, Completely actually totally naked.”
Are we talking — I hope — it’s a close-up?
“Look, I haven’t seen her in 20 years.”
So what, I haven’t seen you either in 20 years but I’m not taking my clothes off.
“In a fireplace scene I have nothing on and there’s a glimpse of Juliette’s ass.”
Wildly alert I immediately recognized that this is no sequel to “Meet the Fockers.”
With me he never removed his checkered coat so I grabbed no look at what you’ll see if you watch the movie.
Gorgeous Juliette, in long black leather coat, black boots, white scarf, talked about making such a movie: “The crew was wonderful. Coats stayed on when the door opened. Then the clothes were piled behind you.
“Starting out in my life I’ve done so many auditions. People there staring at me. All I could do in those early days was to say at the end ‘Thank you.’ I hated it.”
Roe, roe your yacht
But, to see a beautiful outfit, you should’ve been one of the 30 for Margo Catsimatidis’ birthday party at Madison Avenue’s Caviar Russe.
The fish themselves carried less black caviar. It was $1,000 a person.
Husband John Catsimatidis owns WABC radio. I’m on it every Sunday 2 to 3 p.m.
After him spending this much on Margo’s caviar I think I should be asking for a raise.
Quietly grappling
One more sword slashing movie to follow “The Return.”
Paul Mescal: “First day of shooting ‘Gladiator II’ director Ridley Scott comes over in our holding tent, cigar in hand, pats me on the back and says: ‘Your nerves are no good to me. I get that this is huge, but I hired you to do this job. So anything ego-related you have to leave out.’ ”
Becoming big Al
Al Pacino once lived in The Bronx for $38.80 a month. Poor, he ate dog biscuits. Later, ketchup sandwiches. Fished in sewers for change. Mother attempted suicide. Fired from usher’s job for looking at himself in the mirror.
Bad relationships with Tuesday Weld and Diane Keaton. Drugged most of his life. And named in school Most Likely to Succeed. Now an author with memoir, “Sonny Boy.”
Nightly prayer: Now I lay me down to sleep/and pray not for that soon ex-president creep/But for one who opens my door, begs for more/and makes love til my body’s twitchin’/in the hall, the shower or kitchen/but as I pray by my bed/I see this schmuck you wanted elected instead.
Only in DC, kids, only in DC.