He's "Gorgeous George"—sexy, talented, and rich, a nice guy and a wiseguy. No wonder everyone's gunning for him

This article is from the March issue of Radar Magazine. For a risk-free issue, click here
Unconvinced that Hollywood really has changed George Clooney? Click here for a photo retrospective of Gorgeous George, from 1986 to today.

George Clooney just can't wipe that grin off his face. Take the night of September 24, 2007, at the New York premiere of Michael Clayton: Despite having broken a rib in a motorcycle accident several days prior, and as a result, squiring his hobbling girlfriend, Sarah Larson, down the red carpet, the grin was in full effect—glorious as ever, strategically deployed in all its variations.

Later that night, watching Clooney in one of his darkest roles, as a conflicted corporate fixer (a performance that would win him critical raves and Oscar buzz), guests could view the grin in stunning Technicolor. "Do I look like I'm negotiating?" Clooney asks costar Tilda Swinton in one scene. His tone is deadly serious, but if you look closely you can see the grin lurking just below the surface, tugging at the corners of his mouth.

According to Hollywood insiders, Clooney is an overhyped egomaniac, a phony, and a "bully" with a "whopping temper" Of course, the man has his reasons: At 46, he's clawed his way to the top of the business, an incontestable A-lister and respected director with final-cut status. He's seen as "a burlier version of Cary Grant," according to a recent Los Angeles Times piece (the writer went on to compare him to Sinatra and Bogart)—a man about whom one could write a biography and, with a straight face, entitle it The Last Great Movie Star, as author Kimberly Potts did last year. And no one knows better than Clooney that his trademark all-knowing semi-smile has had everything to do with his success. Not the expression itself, exactly, but the utter confidence underlying it, a confidence that's unparalleled even in Hollywood, where it has never been in short supply.

Clooney's self-assuredness is backed up by real accomplishment, too. With 2005's Good Night, and Good Luck, which he cowrote and directed, he took on one of Tinseltown's most cherished villains, the red-baiting Senator Joseph McCarthy, and won! He then challenged the nation's troubled Middle East policy with Syriana, which he executive produced and starred in. Hollywood never passes up a chance to occupy a sliver of moral high ground, especially during awards season, and Clooney was leading the charge: Between the two films, he received an unprecedented trifecta of Oscar nods (director, writer, and supporting actor), going on to win for his turn as Syriana's tormented CIA agent.

But the actor is no stuffed shirt, either, no humorless Sarandon-ista, a point driven home by his brilliantly nonchalant performances in the Ocean's films, playing the roguish ringleader to a pantheon of Hollywood royals while burnishing his rep as the Rat Pack reincarnate. Unlike Frank Sinatra (the original Danny Ocean), Clooney has used his powers for good, growing a bit of stubble and smuggling a camera crew into Darfur (though he upstaged the genocide a bit by mentioning the nasty case of food poisoning he picked up on the plane ride home).

Meanwhile, he's juggling myriad projects—10 in development and five in production, including the forthcoming period football comedy Leatherheads, which he's helming and starring in. But he always manages to work in a regular dip in Northern Italy's Lake Como, where he owns a $10 million mansion—he was there over the winter holidays—or a joyride on one of his hogs around the Hollywood Hills, near the famous eight-bedroom Casa de Clooney. (It's never a real escape, though, since in either circumstance, the paparazzi—"bounty hunters with cameras," as he puts it—are always lurking.)

No other celebrity has a brand so diverse, so perfectly positioned, or so impervious to the vicissitudes of fame. George Clooney is at once the ultimate playboy—a confirmed bachelor, he has twice been named People magazine's Sexiest Man Alive—and a gentleman. He is a commercial superstar and an art-house auteur. He's the town's moral authority and an adorable scamp. What's not to love?

Indeed, for the past few years his public image has hovered above those of his famous colleagues like a gleaming bubble rising from a heavily perfumed bath. But recently, Clooney's impossibly flawless exterior seems to have taken on too much air, with reports of some very un-Clooney-like behavior. There was, for instance, that motorcycle crash in Weehawken, New Jersey, which left girlfriend Sarah Larson with a broken toe (the parties blame each other, and the case is still under investigation), and a near-fistfight with romance-novel cover boy Fabio in November. Suddenly, Clooney's become the bubble people are lining up to pop.

The most recent salvo was fired by, of all people, Rupert Everett, who in a December 15 interview with the UK Independent, took aim at the actor's unusually diverse résumé: "Clooney thinks that provided he does films which are politically committed he's allowed to do Ocean's Eleven, Twelve, and Thirteen. But the Ocean's movies are a cancer to world culture. They're destroying us."

Everett didn't confine his comments to Clooney's filmic output. "He's not the brightest spark on the boulevard," he went on, predicting, "He'll be president one day. Mark my words, if he's straight, he'll be president." Though Everett seems to have meant it as an insult (and in the waning days of the Bush years, it's gotta sting), Clooney's name has, in fact, been bandied about recently as a possible candidate for governor of California, and, according to gossip columnist Cindy Adams, Arnold himself is fanning the flames. (Of the buzz, the actor has said, "Believe me, you don't want me in politics." Self-deprecating, sexy, yet slyly ambiguous—that's Clooney!) As for Everett's bit of sexual innuendo, girlfriend Sarah Larson, a former Las Vegas cocktail waitress, is the latest Clooney conquest. (The actor famously swore off betrothal after his four-year marriage to actress Talia Balsam ended in divorce in 1993.) The list of women he's been linked with since is notable mainly for its length and—save for reported dalliances with actresses Renée Zellweger, Lucy Liu, and Teri Hatcher—his apparent preference for civilians.

At the moment, Clooney still has plenty of admirers. It's hard to see an upside to publicly slinging mud at the man; Hollywood needs as many unsullied gods of the screen as it can get. But increasingly, an avid anti-Clooney faction is emerging. No one, save Everett, wants to go on the record, but under cover of anonymity the tales emerge, sprinkled in many cases with a dose of real resentment. According to Hollywood insiders, Clooney is an overhyped egomaniac, a phony, and a "bully" with a "whopping temper." And worst of all, at least in Hollywood: He can't open a movie.

"Oh. you mean Mr. Beautiful, Mr. Nice, Mr. Politically Correct, and All That Other Crap Guy?" growled a formidable Hollywood agent when asked about the actor. "He's the perfect human being, except that he has the biggest ego in the world and never lets the public know because it wouldn't be the right kind of image."

Lately, though, we've been treated to tiny glimpses of that other Clooney. Back in August, for instance, an Italian reporter at the Venice Film Festival asked him how he squared Michael Clayton's critique of corporate greed with his recent ad for Nespresso, given the international boycott of Nestlé for pushing what critics say is potentially harmful infant formula in developing countries. (Video available here.) As he listened to the question being translated on a headset, a deeply tanned Clooney ran through an amazing array of expressions (annoyed, condescending, threatening, confused, disgusted...) before offering the most dismissive response imaginable: "Yeah, okay—look, I'm not going to apologize to you for trying to make a living every once in a while," he offered before mentioning his efforts in the Sudan and concluding with a wave of the hand, "It's sort of an irritating question."

And the famous Clooney grin was nowhere to be seen on the evening of November 2, 2007. The actor was dining at the swanky Hollywood eatery Madeo when a camera flash raised his ire. (Clooney has made no secret of his hatred for the paparazzi, reportedly installing an egg-throwing machine at his Lake Como estate to pelt shutterbugs who dare to cross an infrared barrier—though he denies it in an e-mail to Radar.) He seems to have thought the group of women at a nearby table were snapping his picture, but in fact they were documenting their evening with another sex symbol. Harlequin heartthrob Fabio (recently profiled in Radar by this writer) was participating in a charity event on behalf of the 11-99 Foundation, benefiting California Highway Patrol family members—and Clooney, for once, was in the background.

As Fabio tells it, one of the six women at his table informed him that "a gentleman" a few tables behind him was flipping the bird every time she took a picture. (Indeed, in one of the shots, which later made its way to tmz.com, you can make out Clooney, middle finger raised, over Fabio's shoulder.) Recognizing Clooney, Fabio says he approached the actor's table to explain the situation.

"He says, 'Fuck you,' and tried to push me—but I didn't move, and instead he fell back," Fabio recalls. "Then I got in his face, and I called him every name in the book. And he says, 'Get away from me, you big thing.'" Fabio's impression of Clooney's voice is decidedly unmanly. He also notes that the actor appeared to be in his cups.

The former cover boy returned to his table, but says he finally lost his temper when the actor dropped by on his way out to call one woman a "fat bitch" and another a "fat cow."

"That's when I got up, but he ran out of the restaurant," Fabio says, adding philosophically, "It doesn't matter how much money you have. If you're white trash, you're always white trash. He's not even half a man."

Clooney says he had words with Fabio alone and didn't argue with the women. "Not my style," he told Radar in an e-mail. Though the women are on record saying Clooney was speaking to them, the actor's dining partner that night, Ben Weiss, backs his account. "George never said anything to those women. He's not like that," vouched Weiss, who is a member of Clooney's inner circle, known as The Boys. "There is nobody nicer to people when they ask for photographs," he added, explaining that the middle finger came after Clooney endured flashbulbs throughout dinner. According to Weiss, it was only when Fabio "aggressively" took a seat at their table that Clooney pushed him and told him to "get the fuck out of here."

The big kiss-off is a Clooney trademark. He walked away from decent gigs on The Facts of Life, Roseanne, and even ER once he felt he'd outgrown themClooney may owe his sinking reputation, like so many pop cultural phenomena, to South Park. Ironically, he was a friend of the show and a longtime fan. Back in 1997, he personally called up creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone to offer his services. He wound up in one of the first episodes, playing Stan's gay dog, Sparky. He also took part in Bigger, Longer & Uncut. But Parker and Stone know a plump target when they see one: They parodied the actor in Team America: World Police, and pounced again after Clooney's 2006 Oscar acceptance speech for Syriana. "We are a little bit out of touch in Hollywood every once in a while," the actor proclaimed. "I think it's probably a good thing. We're the ones who talked about AIDS when it was just being whispered, and we talked about civil rights when it wasn't really popular."

In the 2006 South Park episode, the speech gives rise to a cloud of smugness that, combined with the emissions of hybrid cars, ultimately endangers the nation. It is, says a local weatherman, "the perfect storm of self-satisfaction."

George Clooney was born (grinning, no doubt) on May 6, 1961, in Lexington, Kentucky, the second child of a beauty queen mother, Nina, and newscaster father, Nick. Pop, it seems, was a bit of a renegade, always making trouble by standing up for his beliefs, and George seems to have modeled his own righteous stances, consciously or not, on his father's. As children, George and his sister, Ada, were fixtures around the news desk, where George picked up a taste for the spotlight. In 1982, he drove to Hollywood in what he called the "Danger Car," with a mere $300 in his pocket, according to Kimberly Potts' biography. The family was uneasy about his decision, especially Nick, who had made his own go at showbiz and come up empty. It didn't help that George's aunt, singer Rosemary Clooney, had become a star only to fall from fame into the depths of drug addiction and severe depression following her divorce from Oscar-winning actor José Ferrer. But when, by the grace of God, Clooney's rusted Monte Carlo made it to Los Angeles, it was in the driveway of Aunt Rosemary that its cargo was unloaded. According to Clooney legend—he's told the story so many times it must be true—Rosemary couldn't stand to have the unsightly car around, so young George was made to bicycle to auditions.

He was, from the outset, relentlessly ambitious. "Actors go into auditions thinking, 'Oh God, they're going to hate me,'" Clooney told Playboy in July 2000. "I started to come in selling confidence, not even selling my acting skills. The best actor never gets the job. ... Never."

The strategy began paying dividends when Clooney landed the part of a hunky handyman on The Facts of Life, and then the cocky boss on Roseanne. He also starred in an impressive number of failed shows before finally nabbing his first starring role, on ER, in 1994. Along the way, he became known for his collegiality and good humor on the set—he was a lovable cut-up whose practical jokes put everyone at ease. One favorite gag involved Clooney secretly borrowing a colleague's camera and photographing his own backside, then waiting for the howls of laughter when the pictures were developed.

Despite his hijinks, Clooney became known as a mensch who would display real moral grit when the right situation presented itself. In 1991, he was cast to play the male lead in the short-lived sitcom Baby Talk (based on the John Travolta film Look Who's Talking), which was being produced by the legendary writer/producer Ed Weinberger (The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Taxi, The Cosby Show). The story goes that Weinberger was a tyrant to the cast and crew, and after he fired an actress without warning, Clooney snapped.

"Ed, that's enough. You don't pull that shit," Clooney told him, according to Andy Dougan's book The Biography of George Clooney. In Weinberger's account to the New York Times, though, it went down a bit differently: Clooney had bristled at the firing of the actress, according to the producer, but the last straw had come later when the twin babies had to be replaced.

"The audience hated those first babies," Weinberger said. "We had to get cuter ones. The babies didn't know they were being fired. But George blamed me."

"I remember him calling up and saying Weinberger warned him he'd never work in that town again," Nick Clooney told the Times, "and he said, 'Pop, maybe he means it.'"

Is it possible Clooney simply thought the show stunk, and saw a golden opportunity to walk? Perhaps, but the actor marks the incident as a turning point in his life, the moment he learned to champion the underdog, whatever the cost. "I think that's when I grew up," he told the Los Angeles Times in 1997. "I believed I was ending my career. ... I was living in a house I couldn't afford. ... I had a bleeding ulcer, and I was putting on weight. Everything was kind of colliding at once. And I thought, If I'm a man, if I'm a guy, I have to draw a line here. And from that point on, I was fearless."

The big kiss-off is something of a Clooney trademark. He walked away from decent gigs on The Facts of Life and later Roseanne once he felt he'd outgrown them. Even a starring role on TV's highest-rated show couldn't contain him; he famously bowed out of the show immediately after completing his five-year contract.

It's ironic that what are to many observers Clooney's most appealing qualities—his bad-boy penchant for practical jokes and his sense of moral indignation—seem to have curdled as his star has risen. Certainly he wouldn't be the first celebrity to find his winning personality warped by the pressures and perquisites of fame. It was widely felt that Clooney's self-righteousness got the better of him, for instance, during his infamous 2002 dispute with his longtime agent at CAA, Michael Gruber. The conflict involved Clooney's purchase of Villa Oleandra, on the shore of Lake Como. Gruber, who helped steer the actor from prime-time television to his first blockbuster hit, The Perfect Storm, introduced the sellers to Clooney, and contemplated pocketing a $250,000 finder's fee for his efforts. "I introduced friends to George," Gruber later told Variety. "While a finder's fee was discussed, and disclosed to Clooney, it was never expected, and it was never received."

When Clooney heard about the proposed payment, he went ballistic, apparently making such an issue over the incident that Gruber was forced to leave CAA. "He ruined that guy in this town," claims a well-placed source with a major talent agency. "Maybe Gruber was an idiot to try it, but get over it! Change agents, move on! It's enough that he lost his job. But that wasn't enough for George. He just had to ruin his career. He had to kill him." (Clooney declined to comment.)

Before running afoul of Clooney, Gruber repped the likes of Brett Ratner and Ice Cube. After a brief return to agency work at ICM in 2005, he's currently working in the nightclub business.

"George has a whopping temper. I mean volcanic," asserts a well-placed studio executive who has worked with Clooney in the past, adding that alcohol often helps bring out the beast in him.The executive points to Clooney's dustup with Good Night, and Good Luck producer Simon Franks at an afterparty for the film's London premiere at the Floridita nightclub on November 3, 2005.

"Depending on who you believe," says the studio exec, who spoke with a number of witnesses to the event, "it was either that Simon Franks was trying to pick up Clooney's girlfriend, or that Clooney was mad because he went outside to get his limo in the back alley and it wasn't there, or that somebody just looked at somebody the wrong way and he went off. It was a late-night—maybe not a brawl—but a good, solid fistfight."

Various accounts of the fight were reported in the UK tabloids, most of which pegged Clooney as the aggressor.

"George was livid and trying to knock the living daylights out of the other guy," a witness told the London Sun. Clooney's publicist, Stan Rosenfield, explained things this way: It had "to do with someone being unkind to a woman. No punches were thrown, [but] George told the person to knock it off."

Clooney himself released a statement the following day, declaring, "I won't stand by while someone is being insulted and maligned."

Whatever the truth, the event apparently so rankled Clooney that three months later, he was still holding a grudge, according to the Daily Telegraph, which claimed the actor had Franks barred from Harvey Weinstein's glitzy BAFTA party at London nightclub The Hospital.



This article is from the March issue of Radar Magazine. For a risk-free issue, click here

Clooney's penchant for practical jokes crossed the line, according to numerous sources, when he responded to a savage review of his directorial debut, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, by egging the house of the writer, Los Angeles Times movie critic Kenneth Turan. "He and a bunch of guys who were all in black tie got in a limo, and they each took a dozen eggs," recalls a studio suit who heard the tale from the actor himself. "They went by Turan's house and they egged it." (While a spokesperson for the newspaper confirms the egging, Clooney insists it never happened.)

"I think George is super-invested in making himself look like a good guy all the time." says director David O. Russell. "I think George will be president."When Turan began telling the story, the exec continues, "George then used that to his advantage. He contacted the editor of the Los Angeles Times and basically said, 'It's bad enough that Kenny Turan has lambasted all my movies, and particularly the one I directed, but now he's going around saying I've egged his house. For God's sake, I'm a 43-year-old man! I mean, will he stop at nothing?'"

Clooney, who studied journalism at Northern Kentucky University before dropping out, requested that Turan be banned from reviewing his movies due to personal bias. (Turan appears to have passed on Clooney's next flick, Spy Kids 3-D: Game Over, but was back with a vengeance for Intolerable Cruelty, writing that even the "Coen brothers fail to help the audience warm to George Clooney and Catherine Zeta-Jones.")

In any case, Clooney wasn't quite through, according to what he told the exec, which another anonymous source confirms. "He wrote Kenny this letter in which he said, you know, 'I just wanted to let you know that I'm willing to let bygones be bygones. I really don't hold it against you, and frankly, as my mother used to say, if you want to make an omelet, you gotta break a few eggs.' Cute, although strong-arming a critic might not have sat well with Clooney's hero Edward R. Murrow (nor, one imagines, his newsman pop).

The list of Clooney's sparring partners also includes the paparazzi, a battle that started with the boycott he organized against Entertainment Tonight in 1996 in retaliation for what he considered the aggressive tactics of another Paramount show, Hard Copy. The boycott—which gained momentum with Princess Diana's death and was joined by Steven Spielberg, Tom Cruise, and Madonna—exemplified Clooney's knack for simultaneously taking a moral stand and seizing the spotlight. (It worked, too, forcing Hard Copy to reform.)

Perhaps Clooney's biggest scrap was with director David O. Russell on the set of Three Kings. Russell and Clooney reportedly had a tense relationship from the start because Clooney was not Russell's first choice for the role. According to Sharon Waxman's Hollywood tell-all, Rebels on the Backlot, the director even went so far as to make Clooney do yogic breathing exercises to curb the actor's tendency to squint when he delivered his lines. Depending on which version you believe, the two either almost came to blows or Russell wound up on the receiving end of a Clooney headlock. One thing that cannot be disputed is that Clooney kicked Russell's ass in the PR spin war that followed.

"I would not stand for him humiliating and yelling and screaming at crew members, who weren't allowed to defend themselves," the actor told Vanity Fair in October 2003. "I don't believe in it, and it makes me crazy. So my job was to humiliate the people who were doing the humiliating."

"George Clooney can suck my dick," Russell responded, adding, "He's a really good person, and I'm a really bad person, right? He's a super-political, extremely manipulative guy, and he's not an artist. I think George is super-invested in making himself look like a good guy all the time. I think George will be president."

Anyone inclined to take Russell's side was likely persuaded otherwise when a clip of the director verbally abusing Lily Tomlin on the set of I Heart Huckabees was leaked to YouTube last year. Speculation as to its origins immediately pointed to Clooney.

"Clooney paid the [cameraman] to release it," insists the well-placed agent. "It was all him."

When Radar originally reported the incident in March 2007, Clooney denied leaking the footage and offered $1 million to anyone who could prove he had. So far, the money remains unclaimed.

Egos, it should be noted, aren't exactly in short supply in Hollywood. "At the end of day, compared to other movie stars, Clooney is a dream," acknowledges the studio executive. George Clooney is as entitled to his occasional missteps as anyone—that is, he would be, say his critics, if his movies earned money. Unfortunately, they rarely do. "Look at his box office!" says the power agent. "The bottom line is, the only movies he's made money on are either movies costarring Brad Pitt, Julia Roberts, Matt Damon, and Mark Wahlberg, or one starring a giant wave. Everything else: nothing."

Even Michael Clayton, for which Clooney was tipped as a likely Oscar nominee, has been fairly flat, bringing in just $39 million on an estimated $25 million budget—a payday that wouldn't make up even half the losses on last year's ill-fated Clooney vehicle, a black-and-white World War II noir called The Good German, which earned just $1.3 million of its estimated $32 million budget. One prominent screenwriter sees that film as a rare case in which Clooney eagerly spread the credit around: "It was always promoted as starring George Clooney, Tobey Maguire, and Cate Blanchett—though clearly it was George's movie."

"When that thing completely cratered, no stink got attached," notes the screenwriter with annoyance.

Actually, Clooney's big-screen career has generated quite a lot of stink for such a major celebrity. Excluding the star-studded Ocean's Eleven and its sequels, which have made a fortune for Warner Bros., most of Clooney's films have actually lost money at the domestic box office. Even the critically acclaimed Steven Soderbergh film Out of Sight, costarring Jennifer Lopez, failed to make back the $48 million it cost.

Interestingly, some of Clooney's biggest failures have been films produced by Section Eight, the production shingle he founded in 2000 with director and friend Steven Soderbergh in a deal with Warner Bros. While the company's mandate was always about making art rather than money—and several of its films (including Todd Haynes' Far From Heaven and Richard Linklater's A Scanner Darkly) were critical hits—numerous sources say the partners were less interested in supporting directors' work than in putting their own imprint on it, sometimes to the detriment of the completed films. Of his experience working with Section Eight, the screenwriter says wryly, "When George and Steven have your back, you never need to worry about what's in front of you."

The fact that Soderbergh and Clooney had final cut on the films they produced was intended as a buffer against studio interference. But some directors soon found that they had more to worry about from the partners themselves. "They didn't always stand up for the artist," recalls the studio exec, "which was the thing that they were promising. Sometimes it was just ego-driven stuff, and then there were other occasions where it was like, 'Well, yeah, but we see it differently and we're going to get what we want.'"

The exec reports that during the production company's six-year run, numerous talent felt they'd been undercut by the duo—among them writer/director Ted Griffin, who was signed to helm his script Rumor Has It, but was sacked after 10 days of filming. "Famously, the biggest fight was with Syriana director Steve Gaghan," recalls the exec, who had direct knowledge of the day-to-day production. "Syriana is the most regretful case, because they wound up cutting a lot of the heart out of the movie," he continued, noting that at least four scenes were deleted "that [Gaghan] was very dedicated to keeping in."

In an interview with the Financial Times, Gaghan said Soderbergh "ruined my movie" by shaving off 24 critical minutes. "It's ego and power," Gaghan told interviewer Nigel Andrews. "End of story." At which point, Andrews notes, the writer/director, who received no mention in Clooney's Oscar acceptance speech, unleashed an off-the-record "blistering attack on another significant player in Syriana who insisted on cutting the film just where, for Gaghan, its major veins and arteries were." Clooney was the only other person with final-cut approval.

Clooney responded to Radar's request for comment in an e-mail, saying, "We cut several scenes from Syriana that didn't jibe with what the director wanted." (Asked to clarify, Clooney said he meant the scene didn't jibe with what Soderbergh, the producer, wanted.) "I'll stand with Soderbergh when push comes to shove," he added. "I'm sure you can watch [the scenes] on the director's cut." Unfortunately, a director's cut of Syriana has not been released.

Section Eight was quietly shuttered in October 2006 (few in Hollywood mourned its demise), and Clooney immediately cofounded a new company, Smoke House Productions, with longtime friend Grant Heslov, who cowrote and produced Good Night, and Good Luck. Their upcoming feature, White Jazz, about the L.A. Police Department in the 1950s, has been delayed after unexpectedly losing its star actor—Clooney. He dumped the project in December, just weeks before filming was set to begin. (In response to rumors that he did so without informing director Joe Carnahan, Clooney writes, "I didn't tell him directly. [I] had a meeting with him the week before.")

Whatever the fate of White Jazz or any of the films on Clooney's slate, he will undoubtedly be around for the long haul. He is, after all, the Last Great Movie Star, and despite the grumbling, remains Hollywood's favorite son. At press time, Oscar nominations had yet to be announced, though Clooney had nabbed a handful of critics' awards. If the Academy does see fit to hand him another golden man this year, you can be sure his acceptance speech will be both glib and politically conscious, and his grin will be dazzling.







This article is from the March issue of Radar Magazine. For a risk-free issue, click here