Cindy Adams

Cindy Adams

Movies

George Miller will never make another ‘Mad Max’ movie

Ricky Gervais: “I never want to emcee the Oscars. So stiff and uptight. Boring as s - - t. Not my gig. But hosting the Golden Globes is a fun night. You have a drink. Everyone’s loose. They were probably scared I’d be as raunchy as the first time — which I am. But I love it.”

Australian director of the snubbed “Mad Max: Fury Road” George Miller: “I won’t make more ‘Mad Max’ movies. ‘Fury Road’ with Charlize Theron, Zoë Kravitz, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley and Riley Keough was forever getting completed. If you finish one in a year, it’s considered a leap of faith. Start, stop, start again.

“I’ve shot in Australia in a field of wild flowers and flat red earth when it rained heavily forever. We had to wait 18 months and every return to the US was 27 hours. Those ‘Mad Maxes’ take forever. I won’t do those anymore.”

Hungarian director László Nemes, Golden Globe winner for best foreign language film (plus he’s up for a crate of other non-Globe awards): “ ‘Son of Saul’ has five languages in it — German, Hungarian, Yiddish, all together. It’s my feature debut, and we already won [the Grand Prix at] the Cannes Film Festival.

“This is about the Holocaust. Our world has problems. Hungary, overrun with refugees, has problems. We don’t want Syrians there. Everyone has problems.”

Ready to replace

As you may have heard: Dem Congressman Steve Israel of North Shore’s Queens/Nassau/Suffolk is exiting to become a novelist. Maybe he’s had it, wants to make money or has a secret yen to live in Bulgaria, who the hell knows?

There’s a Running of the Bulls to succeed him. Four are already shouting “Olé.” Community leaders want p.r. exec/TV commentator/Dem fund-raiser Robert Zimmerman to run. He’s well-liked, has recognition, hasn’t spent two consecutive nights home since 1983, and itches to help his country.

Nice. But his friends yawn: “Crazy to do it.” Oy, please . . . they’re right.

Surprise at the disco!

Geoffrey Weill, international p.r. specialist — Israel, Berlin, Dublin’s Ashford Castle, the Orient Express — immigrated here in 1973.

While British ship Canberra’s 1,000 passengers sucked up Yorkshire pudding and trifle, he inhaled E-Deck’s below-stairs discotheque.

For seven nights, one tall thin young man — “face covered in pancake makeup, hedgehog-shorn rainbow colored hair, 3-inch glitter heels, sequin suits, exaggerated shoulders, stovepipe pants — danced a strutting rhythmic coma with his monumentally attractive gentleman companion. The surround? Psychedelic colors, flashing lights, groovy vibes. Neither guy was seen daytime.”

The tall thin young man? David Bowie.

Pay attention

Note: Might our lockstep presidential Rockettes — blue uniforms, red ties, campaign buttons — readjust their mumbles? Cruz, Hillary, Obummer, all — burble that same: “Let me be clear . . . to be perfectly clear . . . as I clearly stated.” Under our current misadministration clear is that we’re in doo-doo.

Remembering an honorable lady

Judith Kaye, who succeeded New York state’s Chief Judge Sol Wachtler, was my longtime friend. I remember a traveler grousing Her Honor was in his airplane seat and how graciously she handled it. I remember Gov. Pataki speaking at her swearing-in ceremony while we restrained ourselves from plucking thread off Mayor Bloomberg’s jacket. I remember Dunkin’ Donuts and her carrying a coat dangling its sales ticket. I remember her keeping a teddy bear given after 9/11.

I’ll always remember Judge Judith Kaye.


Screening loo. Each seat was up. Proves women are from Venus, men are from Mars.

Only in New York, kids, only in New York.