With Roger Daltrey kicking back in the restaurant, it was literally a Who's who at BlackBook's star-studded "Red Hot Hollywood" party at the Sunset Marquis Hotel and Villas. Rock stars, movie stars, and porn stars all came out to toast our Red Hot Hollywood issue, on newsstands now. See full gallery.

When superhot band Animal Collective redecorated a corner of our office, it seemed only right to mark the occasion with a video record of their artistry in motion. Check it after the jump, appropriately scored with a juicy AC track.

"Hey, I’ve got an ass!” exclaimed Amy Adams at our cover shoot, sashaying in a chic but somewhat risqué number that showed off her curves. “If Kate Winslet can show hers in a magazine, so can I!” The endearing star of Junebug, Enchanted, Doubt and this month’s Sunshine Cleaning showed us another side of her saucy self while modeling a selection of the season’s sexiest designs. Those perceptions of her as a faux-naïve? Right out the door. Those perceptions of her as a kind, humble, lovely soul, I’m happy to report, stayed perfectly intact.

There is a feral glint in the gaze of Emile Hirsch that conjures up the same spark of the scalawag in Jack Nicholson. Stylistically, the Hirsch that took on Into the Wild is the younger brother of back roads Jack in 1969’s Easy Rider. Both actors seem to belong to a physical and artistic open range. Sure, they will show up for premieres buffed and polished, but those airings are perfumed with an attitude that says flirtatiously, “What do you dare me to do?” Their natural habitat is more blue horizons than red carpet -- more open bathrobe and overgrown hair, less creased pants and being on time for brunch.

I knew Hollywood late. I saw it on television. Brightly lit and never-ending ease. Not an intellectual place at all. A place where radios played Tom Petty’s “Even the Losers” loud in convertibles and all those stories of hookers and trips to Las Vegas in the middle of the night. For me, Hollywood seemed scary as in nightmare-daytime scary, two trillion stories intersecting one block at a time. But I am a transplanted heart. Southern body created, but veins and skin all meant for the shadows of skyscrapers. Leaving the cocoon of New York for L.A. is painful. Even in winter. Because inevitably, you will meet someone, and they will want you to stay. Out there in the desert oasis that rides the beaches up the coast all the way to the valley, what they don’t tell you, and you have to find out for yourself, is “they’re all lonely as hell” and “it’s why they dream like that there.” The Big Time, they call it by postcard and letter. Ha. If only they knew what was what.

After eight years spent lampooning everyone from Dakota Fanning to Kim Jong-il on NBC’s enduring sketch comedy show Saturday Night Live, actress Amy Poehler allows the ghost of closets past to catch up with her. After the jump, the comedienne's biggest sartorial slip-ups.

After hearing about Mischa Barton's favorite people and favorite places, then checking out her fashion photo shoot, let's take a gander at her behind-the-scenes video for the latter. Rock out after the jump.

How best to spend a surfeit of talent is a problem shared by few, but in the case of Justin Timberlake, is a dilemma that grows like his curly hair -- overnight and exponentially. He sings, he dances, acts, produces, and then there is the daily task of simply being JT. In his multi-digital existence, Timberlake’s counterpart in the classics is none other than analog icon Frank Sinatra. Whether he was behind the microphone or in front of the camera, the transitions were seamless, his very Frankness evident in every blue-eyed wink.

You've seen Sasha Grey's high-fashion pool party, thrilled to her Twitter interview, and contemplated her ruminations on style and the porn business. Finally, here's our behind-the-scenes video of her photo shoot at LA's Sunset Marquis. Hit the jump for the full clip.

At the end of an abused, stony trail peppered with condom wrappers, avocados and evidence of late-night drug use, actor Luke Grimes stands on the precipice of a giant rock, scanning the hillside community of Elysian Park in Los Angeles. Partnered with his strong jaw and active, hungry eyes, the denim overalls that cover his slim build give the impression of a young Robert Redford, without the bandit mustache. (See full gallery.) When he speaks, his words are slow and controlled. “A lot of people can’t separate talent from fame,” says the Ohio native, who moved to Hollywood four years ago. “And often you’ll hear celebrities wax poetic about all that shit, which gets annoying. But I really think actors can get to the point where their work is inspiring, and so that’s where I’d like to end up.”