Maybe F. Scott Fitzgerald is rolling in his grave. Then again, maybe not.
All I know is, entrepreneurial 'N Sync singer Lance Bass is getting ready to produce a big-screen take on "The Great Gatsby" with Paris Hilton as an updated Daisy Buchanan.
Maybe someone will ask Paris tonight at her, uh, book party if she's even read "The Great Gatsby." Perhaps Merle Ginsberg, the ghostwriter of "Confessions of an Heiress: A Tongue-in-Chic Peek Behind the Pose," will read it to her tonight at Lot 61.
Anyway, if Bass and his partners get their way, the Jay Gatsby character will be played by Chris Carmack, the third lead young man on Fox's TV series "The O.C."
Jamie-Lynn DiScala, of "The Sopranos," will play Tom Buchanan's love interest — made famous in the 1974 film version by Karen Black and in 1949 by Shelley Winters.
So to review: That's Paris doing Mia Farrow, who in turn did Betty Field, and a guy from "The O.C." as Robert Redford, previously incarnated by Alan Ladd.
No word on who will play the story's conscience, Nick Carraway, who was brought to the screen in 1974 by Sam Waterston. I'm thinking Freddie Prinze, Jr., but no one asked me.
All kidding aside, Lance continues to be a tireless presence who will not rest on the 'N Sync laurels. He's just produced another film, "Lovewrecked," directed by Randal Kleiser and also starring Jamie-Lynn and Carmack alongside Amanda Bynes.
Tonight he'll attend bandmate Joey Fatone's wedding somewhere in New York along with Justin, Nick, J.C. and the other one. But don't look for any new music for a long time.
"It all depends on whether Justin wants to do it, and he doesn't," Lance told me recently about Timberlake. "He doesn't even want to make his own new solo album. He just wants to make movies."
By the way, here's a title for the Gatsby update: "Jay G." I'm not kidding.
The parents of Michael Jackson's 1993 accuser — the one who received $23 million in settlement — considered that he might be gay and that was why he was spending time with Jackson.
That's one of the claims made in a new self-published book called "All That Glitters" written by the boy's uncle, Ray Chandler.
Chandler told me that when it first became clear to the boy's parents that he'd allegedly had inappropriate relations with Jackson, the parents thought he might be gay.
"You know, it's California, and the boy's 13, and who knows?" said Chandler. "They were trying to be sensitive to the situation. But then they realized very fast that whether he was gay or not, the boy had been molested."
There is nothing to indicate the boy's sexual orientation, but thanks to "All That Glitters," the subject may be open for discussion by early next week when the book hits the stores.
Chandler also told me that 10 years ago Santa Barbara District Attorney Tom Sneddon had a lot of evidence ready to go against Jackson.
"He had child pornography, interviews with psychiatrists, and the tapes Anthony Pellicano made of the boy's father, which indicated no extortion demands, just a man who was very angry that his son had been abused," said Chandler, referring to his brother.
Watch for the entire Chandler case to be kicked wide open again with publication of this book, including a reopening of old grudges and cases among the then-12-year-old accuser's father, mother, and stepfather — all of whom benefited financially in the settlement of the case.
Joining the cast of Greg Glienna's directorial debut, "Relative Strangers" are Neve Campbell and Oscar-winner Kathy Bates .
Danny DeVito and Ron Livingston have already been cast in the dark comedy, which should start shooting momentarily. The movie is about a young man (Livingston) who wants to meet his biological parents (DeVito and Bates). Neve is his girlfriend.
Hmm: Wasn't this the plot of David O. Russell's "Flirting With Disaster"?
Anyway, Campbell is just outstanding in James Toback's shocking and slightly perverse "When Will I Be Loved," which opens this week.
She told me that the Toback film and the recent Robert Altman project "The Company," based on her own idea, are her favorites so far in what's turning out to be an interesting career. But anyone who knew her as Julia on "Party of Five" could have guessed that Campbell was headed for a bright future.
Maybe you don't know the name Tara Subkoff. She's the young, hip designer of a cutting-edge clothing line called Imitation of Christ.
Yesterday afternoon she had her first real fashion show at the tent on Sixth Avenue. What can I say? It was either terribly with-it or complete nonsense. Take your pick.
Subkoff's boyfriend is "Rushmore" and "Royal Tenenbaums" director Wes Anderson, so she has a celebrity clientele. Chloë Sevigny, Rufus Wainwright, Jennifer Jason Leigh and Jane Adams were among the bold-faced names who turned out for the Imitations.
I do not know what they thought when the lights went down and a little boy recited the Pledge of Allegiance while pictures of grieving Iraqis flashed on the video screen.
Did I mention that the tent sported four huge American flags on this occasion? Or that the invitatation was printed on an individual serving-sized flag?
Following the Pledge, male models trooped down the runway wearing I-don't-know-what, since the lights never went up. They paraded and slouched in darkness.
"It's a statement about the war," said the woman next to me. "You see, fashion doesn't matter. And the men are wearing military-type clothes."
The photographers at the end of the runway yelled at the models to stand in the little bits of light available so they could get pictures. I think they said, but I'm not sure, "Go toward the light."
When the men finished, the lights did go up and the real models — petulant, posture-driven, Size 0 young women who stepped out in Roman sandals — did the catwalk.
While they moseyed in and out, a real live musician who sounded like either a) Nina Simone, if she were being murdered, or b) a wounded moose in Big Sky country sang and played the piano.
Tara Subkoff may be many things, but this much I know: She is tone-deaf. The dolorous, depressing and monotonous soundtrack was relentless.
The New York Times's Bob Morris and Paper magazine's David Herskovits, each of whom is smarter and hipper about these things than I, were outside when the interminable show was over. They disagreed with me entirely, calling Subkoff's piece — which I thought was pretentious junk — everything from genius to daring. But a fashion writer sitting next to me put it this way: "It's not about the clothes."
A few minutes later, in heavy drizzle, Subkoff — who had her own hair in tight cornrows — was spotted across the street having her picture taken under the red awning in front of her new, temporary store on Sixth Avenue.