This year's sales figures for the week that include the Thanksgiving break show that Wicked raked in $2.1 million, the biggest haul of the week. Breaking the $1 million mark were The Lion King ($1.7 million), Billy Elliot ($1.6 million), Jersey Boys ($1.3 million), A Steady Rain ($1.2 million), West Side Story ($1.2 million), Mary Poppins ($1.1 million), Phantom of the Opera ($1 million), and Shrek ($1 million).

A look at last year's numbers shows all of these were the big earners last year as well. The only two new shows at the big kid's table were A Steady Rain which boasts A-list talent Daniel Craig and Hugh Jackman (and which every gay man in America has been decreed to go see at full price) and West Side Story, which is, well, West Side Story.

The only shows still running to fall out of the $1 million club are Momma Mia (everyone already saw the movie), seasonal rehash White Christmas (which everyone heard sucks), and In the Heights. What really troubles us is the last show. With the heat from it's Tony cooling and it's average ticket price dropping by more than $10 a ticket, it looks like another original Broadway musical is on the way down. Also underperforming are new original musicals Memphis, Fela!, and Rag Time, and (last season's critics favorite) Next to Normal.

What does that mean for you? Save $100 and just go to the movies. Chances are you can catch something that is going to be on the stage in a year anyway.

[Image via Getty]

• Poor Sarah Palin! The former Alaska governor wants to charge $100,000 for speaking gigs, but sources say many lecture circuits think she's nothing more than a "blithering idiot" and don't want to shell out the bucks. [Page Six]

  
  

• How far they fall: Eddie Furlong's wife Rachael Kneeland filed a restraining order against the Terminator 2 star. She claims he "grabbed me, bruised me, pushed me, made threats of more violence" and smokes cocaine like a mad man. [TMZ]

  
  

• A medical examiner has officially ruled on suicide in DJ AM's death. It was an "accidental overdose." Still sad, though. [NYDN]

  
  

• Meghan McCain doesn't have the highest opinion of journalists: I am pretty much completely disillusioned with journalists after my time... I think all of it's bad." Wait, don't you write for Daily Beast? [Mediaite]

  
  

• Who knew so many people would want to see Jude Law and Hugh Jackman in the flesh? Their new play, A Steady Rain, broke Broadway's record for single tickets sold in a week. [Reuters]

  
  

• Ew! U2's current tour costs a little over $750,000 each day. And, despite Bono's Earth-friendly ways, a lot of that goes to the 200 trucks that transport equipment, lights and food. [The Sun]

  
  

• Madonna wants to get her embryonic boyfriend, Jesus Luz, DJ gigs at East Village bars, including homosexual establishment Eastern Bloc. [Page Six]

  
  

• Penelope Cruz can't — or won't — say if she prefers kissing Scarlett Johansson or Charlize Theron. They are both, she says, "pretty beautiful partners." Also, she won't say if she's having Javier Bardem's baby. [Vanity Fair]

  
  

• Let's all pray for Gwen Stefani, for some evil robbers tried to break into her mansion while she was in Singapore. Tragic. [NYDN]

  
  

• Conan O'Brien made fun of Newark, New Jersey, last week, and now the city's mayor, Cory Booker, has posted a YouTube "banning" him from the city's airport, which is basically like telling someone they can't eat glass. That place sucks. [NY Post]

  
  

• BBC executives chided gay comedian Graham Norton for making fun of lesbian haircuts. [Daily Mail]

  
  

• So, Diddy's leaving Warner Bros. for Interscope, but WB won't let him take all of his Bad Boy artists, so he's going to have to find new talent. Good thing he has a billion MTV shows that revolve around that very concept. [Page Six]

  
  

• Oscar-winning Pulp Fiction writer Roger Avary was sentenced to one-year in jail yesterday for a DUI accident in which his passenger died. [MSNBC]

Piven pulled out of the production back in December, saying that 20 years of eating fish twice a day had elevated the level of mercury so high in his body that he couldn't function. His departure sent ticket sales into a spiral, even after he was replaced by William H. Macy. The show closed in February, but still made back its investment. Now the producers of the show have no legal or financial recourse against Piven and are still pissed. Their statement says.

While we respect the decision, we strongly disagree with it.  We remain eternally grateful to everyone who helped make the wonderful production of Speed- The-Plow possible, especially the artists who created it, and the many who had to deal with very difficult and trying circumstances.

With his mercury in retrograde, Piven is thrilled.

I'm just a theater actor who got sick, and was physically incapable of finishing my run. And now I can put this behind me and move on. And I'm stronger than I've ever been. I had a real health scare, and now I can climb back on the stage and know that I'm strong and able to complete the mission. It's a great day.

Yes, he said "climb back on the stage" not "climb on some stripper named Destiny," which is probably what he meant. And he has a better chance with Destiny than he ever does coming back to Broadway. Hope that, movie thing works out.

Yes, the Twitter-obsessed, Muppet-headed actor may be coming to Broadway, as one of Neil LaBute's awful male characters, to boot. The playwright/director's play Fat Pig recently received a well-reviewed production in London, and now producers plan to move the thing overseas. And Kutcher might be the lead!

So if you're not too tired out from waiting in line alllll day just to see Anne Hathaway mangle Twelfth Night (for free!) in the park this summer, maybe next season you should go drop $100 just for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see Kelso from that one show about the 70s be a jerk to a fat girl. That Miss Julie with Sienna Miller will just have to wait.

Graden, who gave up his MTV Networks Music Group president title on Monday, in steering the network through its intense changeover from a music-based format to a platform for young adult reality programming, has been one of the major faces of the unscripted TV boom. So we have him to curse for Heidi and Spencer, but to thank for True Life. Graden also shepherded the creation of Logo, the country's first LGBT-themed television station, and was instrumental in helping Trey Parker and Matt Stone get South Park off the ground.

Variety reports that his position will not be filled as Viacom has become "top heavy" with executive positions.

Graden and Van Toffler, who's the president of all MTV Networks, co-wrote the departure memo which is cute and full of fun little pop shout-outs, including Britney Spears, Kanye, and the Jonas Brothers.

Subject: Message from Van and Brian

For more than a dozen years now, Brian and I have been each other's work spouses. That's a longer partnership than most unions, so it's only natural that this comes from both of us. Let me now step aside for a moment and let him go first. Brian….

If you look at the shows we have all created together – especially lately – you can feel a tangible fascination with people on the brink of their next great adventure in life. We have called it aspirational
television – capturing people at the moment of transformation into a bold new iteration of themselves. Well, over the last year, I woke up to the fact that I'm a character in my own personal reality show and
this is my time for that next transformation.

Last year, Trey Parker convinced me I could afford to replace my beat up, 20 year old "rental" piano, and helped me pick out an amazing Yamaha Grand. Last Saturday night in Los Angeles, I played 10 original songs on that piano, while a full cast of actor/singers brought Limbo – a musical I'm writing with friends – to life for 100 guests (I have a big living room).

I know you're shocked: a gay man who loves musicals.

Truth is, I'd never written a song in my life until a few years ago, and now, I'm arranging on Logic Pro almost every night when I should be sleeping. The point isn't that I think I'm the next Diane Warren – I'm not. The point is: no matter what any of us have done in life, there's always some new passion waiting to show us how to keep evolving — if we honor that call when we hear it.

I've had a very unusual ride. Though I've been in one place, MTV Networks, for 12 years, I've been afforded a series of sequential chapters, each completely unique — like getting a new "calling" every couple of years. First serving the TRL generation at MTV. Later loving up the 80's at VH1. Working then with CMT and various international channels, and 4 years ago, a personal triumph, launching LOGO. All of which says a lot about the dynamic nature of MTV Networks and Viacom.

For me, it's time to complement my television ambitions with some new passions already in motion - the writing of two books, making music, creating theater, speaking on subjects that matter to me, raising alpacas…okay, perhaps not all calls will be heeded right away. I have no idea if I possess any of these talents, but my friends who know me well know that these new adventures have been tapping my shoulder for a few years.

Television however remains my first love, and I'm already deep in conversations with MTV Networks about shaping a situation that would allow me to still play with you guys in new ways for years to come. At MTV, it's necessary to think like a 19 year old girl every day, which wasn't much of a reach for me (yes, I have a favorite Jonas); in my next chapter however, the dream is to pursue a wider array of ideas that intrigue me, borne more from the heart than a need to serve any particular demographic or brand.

Van says I have a somewhat freakish ability to toggle between business and creative, kinda like Parent Trap – only my Haley Mills are internal, and can run networks. As the portfolio of responsibilities broadened and the businesses got more complex, the creative left side of my brain started to feel like Hilary at the democratic convention — left out.

That said, let me be clear: for 12 years this has been the greatest job in the world, and I've loved every minute of it. The good times through the hard times; from Britney mesmerizing in Catholic school
girl uniform through Britney stupefying in her "Gimme More" performance to Britney yet again dominating the 2008 VMA's. Yes, I measure my career in "Britney's", don't we all?

Seriously, it's been a rush to not know where "job" ends and "Real World" begins. Nowhere else in the programming universe is the unexpected quite as routine as it's been here.

I'll spare you further recounting of years gone by, but let's just say: I have worked at a company brave enough to shut down MTV for 17 hours and run the names of hate crime victims; brave enough to launch an LGBT channel when others said it couldn't be done; even brave enough to cross Kanye West… but then smart enough to make up…fast. I know more brave things are ahead, certainly for the rest of this year, and most definitely beyond.

But I won't spare you this admission: I love all of you. Really, genuinely, you've created the most special culture and brands in the world. Fortunately, I won't even be saying farewell for a while, as Judy and Van have asked me to stay through 2009 and help facilitate a great transition, which I'm happy to do — but we felt it was right to let people know now that this next evolution was beginning to occur. Until then I still get to launch a few more shows, watch a few more VMA's get handed out, witness a millennial brand makeover at MTV, and watch Diva's return on VH1.

When I speak to college kids, they often ask me if I had a detailed career plan – as if that's possible in entertainment – but the truth is: I just get up every day and do things that make me happy. I work with people I love, I trust in my heart as much as my head and everything else follows.

My fondest wish is that you're able to do the same in the years to come.

Image via Getty

According to various reports, Prince was watching the Tony's last night and flipped for Olivo, so much so that he ventured out into the Manhattan night and showed up unannounced at the cast afterparty at Hudson Terrace. Prince then expressed a desire to see the show and will do so "next Tuesday and has asked for a spot in the balcony, where he can buy the twenty seats surrounding him so no one can sit near him."

Maybe he's thinking that Karen Olivo could become the new Sheila E.?

Will Ferrell couldn't host SNL without getting around to Celebrity Jeopardy, though they pulled out two serious stops for this one: Tom Hanks as Tom Hanks, Norm McDonald as Burt Reynolds, and Darrell Hammond as Sean Connery, which is why we're here. Certainly not as great as of the CJ's of the past. Then again, I'm not sure who thought of it, but whoever did, genius: there was nothing more fun on TV this week (sorry, Lost) than watching Tom Hanks try to maneuver through plastic dry cleaning wrap.

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Ferrell's opening monologue was essentially one giant "fuck you" to the Tony voting committee and Broadway, who - if they have any brains about them at all - will give themselves national exposure by handing Ferrell a Tony for his solo show on Broadway (and subsequent HBO special). He's competing against Liza Minnelli. Somewhere, Brian Friel is not laughing. The joke about theater people's pompous self-seriousness is (especially in New York) ridiculously funny. And sadly: resonant. Unfortunately, outside of New York, it might not take.

Speaking of the Bush show, the cold open was Ferrell doing Dubya, of course - when's that going to get old for him? Will it? - and Hammond as Cheney. Again, Ferrell trying to push home the Tony win. Some of the late night ladies at Jezebel didn't like it; personally, I enjoyed. Anything with the words "face shooting" in it gets a chortle, here, but I'm a cheap date. You?

Clearly the favorite amongst the cast who came close to breaking character a bunch of times. Watch Jason Sudeikis try to handle this without laughing, especially around the five-minute mark. Jokes about speed, Bill Hader getting some strangeness in - something about a green Swatch - Maya Rudolph coming in and making complete, absolute, arbitrary nonsense. It was wonderful.

Finally: the cameo-laden finale. Spoiler: it's Ferrell doing "Goodnight Saigon." Kinda fitting. That band has Anne Hathaway, Mad Men's Elisabeth Moss, Amy Poehler, musical guests Green Day, and Paul Rudd in it. Again, this one sits squarely on the shoulders of its stars, not the writing.

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Oh yeah: Green Day was the musical guest and played some stuff off their new album, but when's a band gonna come on SNL and not do that? Remember when SNL musical performances used to be mildly interesting? Green Day should've come out dressed as 14 year-olds, played "Basketcase," broke some shit, and left. Memo to Lorne Michael: think dynamic. Also, question for Lorne Michaels: Did you burn through your entire Rolodex to pull this one off? Probably. Did it help that you had one of your best and brightest alumni hosted? Naturally. But you can't pull a glued audience simply based on the potential promise of cameos and only half-decent writing that your ace(s)-in-the-hole can walk circles around. You're gonna run out of ringers, eventually.

The Twisted Sister frontman wasn't the only aging, leather-clad rocker in attendance. The dudes from Night Ranger were there, so was the guy who used to sing for Survivor. They all creaked up to watch the songs of their beloved, boozey, LA wastoid 1980's spring to glittery gay life on the Broadway stage.

The show is: Constantine from American Idol is a wannabe rocker who meets cute with a girl (Amy Spanger—girl I saw you in Rent in Boston like seven million years ago and you look exactly the same, so good work) who's a wannabe actress and they fall in love and save a rock club as a jerky German tries to turn the Sunset Strip into an adult amusement and shopping park (hmm... kinda like that company that bought Coney Island?) It's a thin story, entirely forgettable, but there are some good jokes and who the hell really cares. The real reason the show exists is so those awesome 80's songs—"Hit Me With Your Best Shot", "Don't Stop Believin'", "We're Not Gonna Take It"—can rock out with their gypsy robe-covered cocks out and melt our faces off. And, for the most part, it works!

The show straddles a delicate balance between openly mocking the silliness of that whole, old scene and laboriously giving it a blow job. It's loving, but not overwrought. Poking fun, but not mean. And it's just really fun. If you have a friend or surly younger brother in town who hates Broadway shows but kinda secretly wants to see a Broadway show, you could definitely do worse than this. Charles Isherwood agrees!

After the opening there was a party next door, which featured a hilarious but vaguely unsettling mash-up between your usual "helloooo!!" Theatre types and a crowd of booze-guzzling old rockers, their precarious brides hanging on their arms. It just didn't seem right in some way, two worlds that should never collide.

In celebrity attendance news! I bumped into (literally) that fruit from Ugly Betty. And I gawped embarrassingly at Patrick Wilson. Katrina Bowden from 30 Rock shimmied by at one point, and the rumor is that Zac Efron poked his head in too, but I'm not sure I believe it. After I made a complete spectacular ass of myself when trying to talk to one of the show's cast members—sorry about that!—I decided it was time to leave.

The whole party left me feeling just a bit sad—sure there were crazy ladies drunkenly clapping and whooping during the show, but there in the safe confines of Pretend Land, it all seemed OK, it was kicky good fun. But out there in the real-ish world, a place that's long ago left these big-haired oddities behind, it all suddenly seemed so melancholy. These people, lost in time. Now beholden and grateful to their once most hated (and, let's be honest, rightfully so) enemy, musical theatre folk.

But on stage! On stage it's still quite alive and happy. I feel bound by some innate corniness to say this:

It rocks.

The Entourage star was certainly in tears after the hearing, when he sat for an interview at the offices of the New York Times.

Mr. Piven... twice broke down in tears...

He cried as he described the stress of fearing for his health while pushing himself to continue with the play. "I've never missed a day's work or a rehearsal in my life," Mr. Piven said. "I think there's a reason you've never heard of any problem like this before."

Times writer Patrick Healy also noted that Piven "looked exhausted and often meandered" during his interview. Which, along with the crying, is totally fake-able, especially by, say, an actor. And which could also be symptoms of suddenly-curtailed access to a stimulant.

There's no word yet on the results of tests performed by a doctor other than Piven's sketchy personal M.D., results that had been expected at the hearing, so all we have to go on is the word of Piven and his doctor. The actor also said he was in bed "almost every night" — you can find the known exceptions here.

Certainly the producers were not convinced; their five reps all voted against Piven, while the five Actor's Equity reps voted with him. (Actor's Equity includes both actors and stagehands.) The producers have the option of escalating to more aggressive proceedings. It's not clear if they'll do that , but lead complainant Jeffrey Richards pulled an apparently snarky move on the Times:

Reached by telephone at home after the hearing, Mr. Richards said he was sick and on medication and would have no comment.

This snide joke is actually a nice opening for Piven's PR team. If it trumpets Richard's purported sickness as evidence that illl health regularly prevents hardworking people from doing their jobs, Richards will be in a bind: He either concedes the point or, to dispute it, admits he was lying.

As for Piven's honesty, it's almost irrelevant at this point: If Piven told the truth Thursday, and has been going through hell, he deserves more credit for his acting, specifically for his professional commitment to Speed the Plow. If he lied, duping fellow thespians and a Times reporter, he also deserves more credit for his acting, specifically for being such a convincing con man.

(UPDATE: The Post's sources say Piven was indeed crying during the hearing, as well.)

(Image via)

Roger Friedman—from, gulp, Fox News—had a quick chat with the Entourage actor, who abruptly up and quit the Broadway production of Speed-the-Plow in which he was starring last month, citing mercury poisoning. From eating too much sushi and stuff! Piven told Friedman:

I was so sick for most of the run of the show. Some days I would sleep right until the time I had to go to the theater. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I was exhausted.

Hm... You know what else makes people sleep all day? Snorting a lot of cocaine and then staying up all night sending booty-call text messages to bevies of models. That has also been known to make a person want to sleep late into the afternoon. Not saying. Just sayin'.

Friedman does note that Piven's ironclad contract would prevent him from leaving the show without an accurate medical report. To that we say, good thing he has a fishy celebrity doctor in his back pocket.

Though, yes, Piven did seem healthy and chipper and past all of it last night (he even warmly commented on playwright David Mamet's crack that Piven wanted to be a thermometer), we know that his troubles may not be over yet. Can't a guy who's made millions of dollars and won lots of beautiful awards for basically playing himself just get a damn break once in a while?

Image, from a Golden Globes party last night, via Splash

The Entourage actor had apparently tried to pull some shenanigans to attend the Golden Globe awards, and the producers tried to accommodate him. Then he wanted to outright quit the show starting immediately after the Globes, asking actor friends if they'd maybe want to replace him. This displeased producers. Then suddenly Piven got mercury sick and quit for good. Our tipster tells us it's because he's a party boy:

Jeremy showed NO exhaustion as recently as last week. For six weeks, he has been trying to weasel out of his contract, citing various forms of exhaustion (nothing about mercury until a few days ago), while still going out and partying constantly into the wee hours (which has been well documented by the press and paparazzi), so it's always been pretty clear that any exhaustion is not from being on stage for 80 minutes a night. (and let us point out that 80 year old Estelle Parsons walks up and down a three story set four times while being on stage for over three hours a night in August Osage County, and has been doing so for far longer than Jeremy has been in this tiny, intermissionless Mamet play)

Two fine actors have been brought in to replace Piven, but theatre producers are still angry. They are angry because they too suspect that Piven is a drug addled diva. No one believes the mercury story!

The tipster went on to tell us that Piven was also a Jealous Judy:

Jeremy also was jealous of Raul's reviews – which were far more effusive than his merely respectable ones – and insisted on being told when critics and Tony voters were in attendance – in order to "psych himself up" as he put it. A list was subsequently provided.

So it could be for a lot reasons! But one of those reasons is probably not deadly rainbow rolls. When we saw Piven in the show, way back when it was in previews, he didn't know his lines and sure seemed exhausted. But kind of cocaine exhausted, not at-death's-door exhausted. But what do we know? We're not dietary supplement-hawking celebridoctors.

Take a look at the above video, filmed Saturday after his second-to-last show, and diagnose his mercury levels yourself.

According to TMZ, Piven's sushi excuse (which we suppose should warn us off spicy tuna forever but only makes us hungrier every time we type it) was only the latest malady Piven claimed to have in order to get out of performing David Mamet's Speed-the-Plow on Broadway. And who leaked this information to the gossip website? Oh, only one of the show's producers, all of whom clearly hate him now.

Before Jeremy Piven ditched his Broadway show due to sushi-related mercury poisoning, producers say the actor was worried he was suffering from mononucleosis — the dreaded kissing disease.

The show's producer tells TMZ Piven had complained of illnesses from the beginning of the show's run in October. First, says the producer, Piven reported "low-level mono." After that, Piven told producers he was worried he might have Epstein-Barr virus. The final diagnosis, as his doctor stated publicly, was mercury poisoning from a two-a-day raw fish habit.

TMZ also spoke to Piven's barbell-loving MD, Dr. Carlton Coker, who confirmed the Epstein-Barr diagnosis. Sadly, blood tests ruled out also-ran viruses like "cow pox," "fainting disease," "the vapors," and a mysterious debilitation that can only be cured by a controversial dose of Hollywood clubbing.

• Piven Went Mono Before Going to Mercury [TMZ]

The play is one of the few on Broadway still going strong, but the Entourage star has been missing more and more performances. Finally, he pulled out, with this doozy of an excuse:

Piven has informed the producers that he hasn’t been feeling well and that the condition is attributable to a high mercury count.

The show’s producers weren’t returning calls, but Daily Variety reached out to David Mamet, who wrote the showbiz satire and seemed skeptical of the reasons for Piven’s departure.

“I talked to Jeremy on the phone, and he told me that he discovered that he had a very high level of mercury,” Mamet said. “So my understanding is that he is leaving show business to pursue a career as a thermometer.”

A burn well north of 98.6, Mr. Mamet. Commenters on the NY Times story suggest that Piven had become increasingly fed up with latecomers and early-goers who refused to stay in their seats to fully savor the mastery of the Pivs. We think it owes more to the low Broadway per diems that left Piven's daily manscape artist/confidante out in the cold, unable to give his boss an outlet for thoughts like, "Why am I doing matinees for blue-hairs when my pecs yearn to breathe free on Carbon Beach?"

[Photo Credit: WENN]

• Piven speeds away from 'Plow' play [Variety]

The show was anticipated like crazy—the Brooks pedigree! Remember The Producers? What a crazy, million Tony-winning smash that was!—and priced accordingly. Premium tickets (a rotten idea pioneered by Brooks and Co. when Producers hit big) reached excesses of $400, group sales seats (bread n' butter, folks) were drastically limited, and, perhaps worst of all, the critics seemed pretty fed up with the whole endeavor. Acidic word-of-mouth spread throughout the industry, from creative types to tour directors, and the show was marked (perhaps not entirely fairly) an arrogant, dead-on-arrival failure. Don't piss off the theatre queens and the cigar-chomping tour company people! They're vicious!

The New York Times details the story today, getting show producer Robert F.X. Sillerman to sheepishly admit: “What they perceived as our arrogance was nothing more or less than my ignorance.” Oh, sad. Though, we're not sure we believe that!

Sillerman goes on to add that the show will recoup its investment, though just barely. And, well, given the show's astronomical ($11 million to mount, $600,000 a week to keep up) budget, we're not sure we believe that either.

Ben Brantley of the New York Times seems to think she's trying just a bit too hard:

And while Ann is supposed to arrive at the Keller household with high hopes and good intentions, Ms. Holmes delivers most of her lines with meaningful asperity, italicizing every word. This Ann is straight from the school of the Erinyes (those avenging furies from Greek mythology), and I didn’t believe for a second that she really loved the honorable, naïve Chris.

Clive Barnes over at the Post doesn't have much to say, other than describing her as "coltish" and "looking tough under a glossy wig." Hm. Wigs are always fun!

The Daily News' Joe Dziemianowicz is a little more positive:

Holmes, a TV and film vet, makes a fine Broadway debut. Her rather grand speech pattern takes getting used to, but she seems comfortable and adds a fitting glint of glamour. Dancing with Lithgow, kissing Wilson, she makes you forget about her being Mrs. Tom Cruise. At times, however, Holmes is strangely shrill.

Yes, "strangely shrill" sounds about right.

And finally Melissa Rose Bernardo of Entertainment Weekly thinks she's just OK:

After a painfully awkward first scene, she relaxes a bit; she's at her best opposite Wilson, who's terrifically cast as Sons' moral compass.

So good notes for the boys, some pluses for Dianne Wiest, and mostly "meh"s for Mrs. Cruise. Well, at least it wasn't a complete disaster.

[Photo: Sarah Krulwich for the 'New York Times']