"End of the Rainbow" is a troubling experience in Broadway's new musical theater, being both thrilling and depressing. I suppose the dichotomy of it all goes to the heart of those of us who remember the real, live Judy Garland and others, to whom her early tragic death and unending genius, remain mysterious.

Word has wriggled out of LA that Raquel has met with the creators of TV's big hit "Modern Family." She is being wooed to make a few appearances as Sofia Vergara's mother.

You may not care about the Costume Institute's exhibition of Elsa Schiaparelli and Miuccia Prada and their proposed "Impossible Conversations" opening at the Metropolitan Museum this very night. (It runs into the summer!) But if you 'd like the great Museum to keep functioning and being a bastion of culture in the U.S., you'd better accept "fashion" as part of it all.

I just loved "The Avengers." I had never before seen the Black Widow...or Captain America...or Thor...and I had only seen part of Robert Downey Jr. as Iron Man.

The Johnny Depp/Tim Burton big-screen retooling of TV's legendary "Dark Shadows" isn't in release yet, though the trailers look fabulous. (This new version appears to be intentionally funny, as opposed to the unintended yucks sometimes generated by the series, which was taped live.)

Jane told me, in a lively phone conversation last week: "If you cannot come to forgive your parents, accept them as human beings, how can you accept yourself and go forward in life? How can you truly be free? It's nice too, if your parents forgive you, as well. But they have had their journey, the focus should be yours."

I have been raving about Peter Dinklage since the very first episode of HBO's "Game of Thrones." By the second episode, I was confidently predicting he'd win the Emmy.

Recently, Rita performed an exclusive gig at the Troubadour Club in West Hollywood. (This famous spot has seen Linda Rondstadt, The Eagles and Elton John, back in the day.) The crowd loved her.

With all the ponderous punditry on same-sex marriage -- not to mention President Obama on the cover of Newsweek with a rainbow-colored halo, being called "Our First Gay President"--I think we need some irreverence.

Pfeiffer is celebrating the 19th anniversary of her marriage to producer David E.Kelly, and beginning to suffer empty-nest syndrome as her children go off to college.

The movie, despite its seemingly salacious subject, is completely charming and amusing.

Clive, accepting the Richard J. Caron Award for Excellence, appeared to be deeply moved when he said, "I wish with all my heart Whitney had availed herself of the facilities at Caron." His remarks were brief and powerful.

How well I recall nights at Studio 54, and other clubs of the 1970s and '80s, with Donna's groundbreaking music blasting.

If Mick had not been so profitably good at his day job--rock and roll singer--he would have certainly made a bigger noise as an actor.

It's not that reporter Drew is mean, he simply has a journalist's jaundiced eye and cocked eyebrow, observing 18-year-old Bieber -- his high voice, his inattentiveness, his slight frame, the eardrum-puncturing decibel at which he plays his music.

"DH" could return, rebooted with a slightly younger cast.

Everybody involved with "Magic Mike" is at pains to insist it is not a male version of "Showgirls." It's intentionally funny.

Battleship, directed by Peter Berg, is a very entertaining movie, unlike most smash-and-bang films of today. In fact, I liked it better than The Avengers. (Blasphemy!)

I must say, however, in the language of John Wayne to Maureen O' Hara--"you're awfully purty when you're riled up, Justin."

I am busy now reading Hilary Mantel's "Bring Up the Bodies." This is the best-selling hit sequel to the writer's Man Booker prizewinner, "Wolf Hall" -- a story that even amateur historians just can't get enough of -- the rise and fall of Anne Boleyn and of the men and women who rose and fell with her.