Brett Debritz’s archive

Truman Capote died in 1984, but his memory lingers on – probably due to sustained interest in his “non-ficiton novel” In Cold Blood and novella Breakfast at Tiffany’s, which became a famous film. Now his long-lost first novel, Summer Crossing, is to be published. Details here.

It makes it pretty hard for celebrities who genuinely want to be left alone when, as reported here, here, here and elsewhere, soapie star Bec Cartwright and tennis player Lleyton Hewitt have gone and sold exclusive rights to their lives to a women’s magazine for $1 million.

Christopher Paolini is 21 years old and he’s a famous fantasy author. I am older and envious.

I’m certain Alan Jones and I would find we have very little in common if we sat down and spoke – but I can’t help but say I’m impressed by the man’s ability to communicate. His glowing introduction of Reg Grundy at the launch of the television pioneer’s wildlife photography book at the Queensland Art Gallery last night was a studied in measured speech-making. For his part, Grundy had the room in stitches when he complained that his name had been inevitably linked via rhyming slang with the short form of the word “underpants”.

Obviously I wasn’t the only person who was skeptical about the news of Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore’s wedding. Apparently an email is doing the rounds suggesting, as I did, that the marriage ceremony was a stunt for Kutcher’s Punk’d TV show. The couple’s PR folks say the wedding was real, the email’s a hoax. I’m starting not to care either way.

His creator died 15 years ago, but Kermit the Frog is 50, feeling fine and about to embark on a 50-stop world tour. Now owned by the Disney company, Kermit will star in a new TV series. Also in the pipeline are new films, and Muppet-themed web and mobile phone content.

The battle against movie pirates is getting serious. Eight people have been charged with copying and illegally posting the final Star Wars film on the internet.

I saw Laura Foot-Newton’s Tshepang at the Brisbane Powerhouse Theatre last night. It’s a superbly written, poignant play about a harrowing subject – the rape of children in a South African community torn apart by alcoholism and unemployment – that features stunning performances from Mncedisi Shabangu and Kholeka Qwabe. Don’t be put off by the subject matter, this is powerful theatre that demands to be seen. It resonates far beyond its geographical setting and speaks to us all. Tonight sees a fundraising performance for the Abused Child Trust, and the short season ends on Saturday. Details here.

Thanks to The Mail on Sunday, via Private Eye, for sorting out the mystery of Sean Combs’s latest name change. The former Puff Daddy who became P. Diddy is now just Diddy. He explained: “I felt the P was getting between me and my fans and now we’re closer.”

I went to see Michael Buble at the Concert Hall last night and, while I acknowledge that he’s got a good voice and an affable stage manner, I still can’t come to grips with the extreme crowd reaction. He had an audience ranging in age from teens to 70s hollering with approval at his tuneful but hardly earth-shattering renditions of jazz and swing standards, with the odd pop song and thrown in for good measure. When he sang songs made famous by Ray Charles, Peter Allen, Freddie Mercury, Otis Redding and Frank Sinatra, it made me hungry for their unique talents, not his. Still, the band was pretty hot and Buble was amusing some of the time (although the patter went on a little too long). More importantly, he didn’t offend me by “phoning it in”, as Rod Stewart did on his most recent tour.