Since fantasies seem to be de rigueur here at Tart City, I thought about writing a review of Gladiator, and then I thought again. Unfortunately, and no one hates to admit this more than me, the movie really wasn't that great. I read that the screenplay was being written as the movie was shot, and it did show. But, and this is an enormously important and adorable but(t), Russell Crowe stars in a movie called Gladiator. If that isn't enough cause to celebrate I don't know what is. So, I put on my official Tart City Fantasy Hat (lots of feathers, black veil, jauntily askew over one eye) and decided instead on an interview. Oh, why the hell not. But I will not tease you - this is not a Roman orgy fantasy, those are taking place over on another page right now. This is just me, Russell Crowe, Richard Harris, and the late great Oliver Reed sitting down together and discussing Gladiator. I thought about inviting Joaquin (that's pronounced Jemeroquai for those of you who think I'm ill-qualified to write this), but I'm sorry, he's just not sexy enough in a truly tarty sort of way for this writer. Hey, you like him, write your own fantasy interview.

CL: Thank you all for joining me today to discuss this wonderful movie. I must admit, when I first heard there was going to be a movie called Gladiator, starring Russell Crowe, well I got down on my knees and thanked Bacchus.

OR: I'm afraid I listened to the voice of Bacchus a few too many times.

RH: Why am I here again?

CL: You are here, Mr. Harris, well let's face it, you're Caesar - you were the top dog who recognized the incredibly brilliant, talented, handsome, most perfect specimen of manhood Russell, I mean, Maximus was indeed the man to restore the Roman Republic. And on top of that I've just always wanted to go out and have a beer with you.

RH: Really? When did you first become familiar with my work?

CL: My dad was watching a rerun of A Man Called Horse on television, probably over 20 years ago.

RH: And what did he think?

CL: He called you a total nut job.

RH: And ever since?

CL: Right, ever since -- I said I want to party with that guy.

OR: If I'm invited to that party, I suggest we get moving here with the interview.

CL: Right Mr. Reed. I've also always wanted to party with you, ever since noticing you were the cute musketeer.

OR: I was the cute musketeer?

CL: Well, d'uh. Michael York? Richard Chamberlain? Pa-lease.

RC: Aren't we supposed to be talking about Gladiator?

OR: Damn it Russell, you'll be around forever to talk about Gladiator, please allow me this one courtesy if you don't mind. So you were saying...

CL: Actually, I think we were finished, you were indeed the cute musketeer. I don't care what Faye Dunaway says.

OR: One of my greatest lines in Gladiator ended up on the cutting room floor.

CL: Oh yes, I did hear about this, when Maximus turns to you and with that husky, sexy voice says "You were once a gladiator?" .

OR: Right, I replied: "No, I was a musketeer. Different costume, same choreography." I can't for the life of me figure out why they cut that.

RH: Budget man, budget! How about that scene of me, Caesar, standing naked, overlooking the battle with Germania. It was brilliant I tell you - bloody brilliant.

RC: Not bloody likely, mate. And, sorry to interrupt, but is it really necessary to conduct this interview with you sitting on my lap?

CL: Ahem, no offense, Russ, but I am, after all, a professional.

RH: Professional what, that's what I'd like to know.

CL: Pipe down, Harris, or I'll never take you to my favorite pub. So let's get back to the movie, any of you familiar with who the hell was responsible for the sets?

RC: Why do you ask that?

CL: The Coliseum - how can I put this delicately, seemed to have chariot lanes delineated by giant, well, I'd call them phallic symbols but there's just nothing symbolic about it - there was this inner circle of giant stone penises. Anybody?

RH: If I had to guess the inspiration came from my aforementioned scene, overlooking the battle..

OR: Oh, please tell me it's time to go get drunk.

CL: I didn't have enough prep time to research, I was wondering if there really were giant stone penises around the center of the Coliseum, or if some set director came up with it on his or her own.

RC: You do know I was running around in this movie with a fu-, sorry, a freaking skirt on, right?

CL: Of course. You don't think I was paying attention to the plot, do you?

RC: And you are sitting on my lap right now?

CL: (at this point the interviewer adjusts herself to get more comfortable): I indeed am.

RC: Well, what do you think?

CL: I think the set decorator was either a woman, or a gay man, who spent too much time peeking in the dressing room.

RC: Well there you have it then.

CL: Since I have your, ummm, attention now, Russ, what did you think when GQ called you "The Next Marlon Brando?"

RC: Well of course I was flattered, I mean, who wouldn't be?

CL: Hmmm, actually, I thought it was a bit, I don't know, outdated, cliched?

RC: The next Marlon Brando?

CL: Let's face it Russ, you are the 30-something crowd's sex symbol. Yes, yes, Godfather aside, but if they really wanted to say something they would have said, let me think, Russell Crowe - the Next Bobby Sherman -- now that's saying something.

RC: I can't say as I'm familiar with Bobby Sherman.

CL: I hate to break this to you, really I do, but, until Gladiator, whenever I said hooo-baby, Russell Crowe, I would get the response "What's a Russell Crowe?" But I've been doing my best, hell I even found a copy of the movie Proof -- how many Americans do you think have seen that?

RC: Wait a second, I was nominated for an Oscar in The Insider.

RH: I knew it! Even with a tart sitting on his goddamn knee, he couldn't get through this without mentioning that stupid Oscar. You know I was nominated twice.

CL: Yes, Oliver, let's go off and get rip-roaring drunk. If I may just sum up for my audience: there are idiots out there saying this is not a chick flick. If a movie called Gladiator starring Russell Crowe is not the truest definition of chick flick, then I'm living on the wrong planet, and will take off with Oliver to whatever bar in the sky he's become a regular at. So Oliver, Richard - if you could just step across the aisle -- yes, yes, a little further -- there you go, I'll be right with you. Russell you and I really didn't get an opportunity to discuss your part in any great depth. Would you mind joining me in the Tart City Roman Orgy room for just a few more questions? I thought that's what you'd say.