"The Goonies" made lots of money last weekend. That's hardly news -- Steven Spielberg productions make money every summer. But it failed to unseat "Rambo" atop the box-office charts -- that Sylvester Stallone vehicle held on to its lead with a $10.2 million gross, beating the Spielberg-Richard Donner adventure by more than $1 million. "Goonies" also failed to open with the same kind of zip "Gremlins" showed last summer, falling $3.4 million short of that film's total even though it was in 200 more theaters. (Business as a whole is off by 20 percent over last summer's record-breaking totals.) Still, "Goonies" did far better than last weekend's other new film, "Perfect," which struggled for a $4.2 million take. Now the trick for Spielberg and Warner Bros. is to interest 17-to-25-year-olds in a film that's already been branded a "kids' movie" . . .

Now that "Rambo" is a clear blockbuster, Stallone's invincible vet may be a hard guy to shake. The novelization just entered The New York Times best-seller list at No. 11. A Rambo picture book is in stores, to be followed in 60 days by a Rambo doll. Airplanes have been hired to fly above hot tourist spots trailing banners that read: "You're safe down there because Rambo's up here." Tri-Star Films and Stallone are readying the sequel for the summer of 1987. And if none of this is news to you, then you're in good shape to enter the "Rambo" trivia quiz now being held on radio stations across the country; first prize is dinner with Sly, and he promises not to cut his food with a hunting knife. Meanwhile, a few cynics chuckled when full-page Daily Variety and Hollywood Reporter ads praised "Rambo" costume designer Tom Bronson. "Costumes in 'Rambo'?" asked one Tri-Star employe. "What are they talking about -- bullet holes by Bob Mackie?" . . .

Director Michael Apted ("Coal Miner's Daughter") wasn't encouraged by the recent phone call he got from an airline staffer. Apted, reported the L.A. Herald Examiner, wanted Eddie Murphy to star in a film he'd written about inmates taking over Bellevue mental hospital, and sent a copy to the comedian, who left it under his airplane seat. A couple of days after the airline asked Apted if he wanted his script back, he got an official "no thanks" from Murphy . . .

Six months after he went platinum blond for "A View to a Kill," Christopher Walken is trying to get his hair back to its natural color for his role in "At Close Range." Walken plays the marginally criminal father of Sean and Chris Penn, two brothers who should provide an interesting contrast in acting styles. Sean is noted for his unwavering on- and-off-set concentration and for the extremes to which he goes to become his characters. Younger brother Chris, says one who's worked closely with him, "is ready to party as soon as the director yells 'cut' " . . .

It's the year 2000. George Lucas has purchased Belgium and renamed it Alderan, Olivia Newton-John has won a Best Actress Oscar for her role in the musical version of "Macbeth," and Sylvester Stallone has followed in the footsteps of Ronald Reagan and Tony Randall to become the third U.S. actor-turned-president. That's the scenario sketched by Film Comment writers Paul Budra and Graham Yost, who, in the magazine's June issue, print two dozen entries from what they say is a 21st-century film encyclopedia called "Hollywood 2000." On that date, reveal the authors, Michael Cimino will be hard at work on the first $1 billion movie, a "breakdance history of the universe" -- it follows his big-budget flops "Heaven's Gate," "Knocking on Heaven's Gate" (a $50 million comedy with Bob Dylan), "Five Fingers of Love" (a $75 million kung fu musical) and "Fiddler on the Hoof" (a $100-million "musical-Western-historical-comedy" about Russian horse thieves in 1917). Hit movies of the day include "Conan the Utilitarian," which gets its name when Conan decides, whilst cleaving foes, that the end justifies the means. And as for Steven Spielberg, he'll still be smarting from the failure of "The Visit," "which starred Michael Jackson as a Cabbage Patch Kid from outer space. From then on," the authors conclude, ". . . Spielberg began to make a series of small personal films about people having their hearts ripped out."