Thandie Newton is stretched out--shoeless, a sliver of a round tummy showing--on a divan at the snooty Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills. She is gossiping mercilessly about filmdom's high and mighty (who has a potty mouth, who is a racist), trashing the town's powerful directors, ridiculing scripts (wait till you hear about Hottentot Venus) and dishing just as much about herself--a girl born in Britain, with a plummy British accent and skin the color of caffe latte. Taking tea with Thandie (pronounced Tan-dee) turns out to be a jolt of caffeine straight to the system. Come prepared for opinions slathered...
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