If two radioactive celebrities talk amongst themselves, do they really make a sound?
Certainly not so with Alec Baldwin and Woody Allen, who conversed this week on Instagram about such relevant fare as Groucho Marx, Jack Benny and the demise of movie “houses” at the expense of streaming.
Unmentioned, of course, was the $68 million Amazon was ready to pay Allen until Ronan, Dylan and Mia Farrow reminded the world what a disgusting ogre he is (and that holds true whether you believe he molested Dylan as a child — grooming and marrying your own stepdaughter is a hard thing to outrun).
Also unmentioned was Baldwin’s own worst scandal, his fatal shooting of cinematographer Halyna Hutchins while shooting “Rust.” Plus his subsequent blaming of this young wife and mother for her own death and his constant gloating on Instagram, with fake-Spanish wife Hilaria, about their perfect, ever-expanding family.
It was just Alec and Woody, two malignant narcissists shooting the breeze, indulging in the notion that anyone cares what they have to say.
To wit: Here we had a once world-renowned director and former movie star grappling with a livestream. Allen’s WiFi signal dropped twice. You would think such experienced filmmakers would have young, hungry, tech-savvy interns on hand to prevent such rookie mistakes — especially when broadcasting on the only medium that will have them — but no. Who among the young, woke, post-Harvey generation would even want to go near these two?