
You guys. This is it. This is our big chance. Last night, DinoShark appeared before me, awash in heavenly light, and said, "Raaaahhh!" And because I operate on a higher plane of existence, one where DinoShark and I dish, I knew that that meant, "Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their made-for-TV cinema!"
Remember those hideous looking Troll dolls from the '60's? Troll Dolls, Leprocauns, Dam Dolls, Gonks, Wishniks, Treasure Trolls, or Norfins? Ugly little bastards, is what they were. An ugly fad that never seemed to go away completely. They made comebacks in every subsequent decade, for some reason, but they never got any cuter. But they were just dolls. Dolls made to scare the bejesus out of kids for no particular reason.
Their decades-long trendiness is apparently enough to warrant a movie deal.
I was ready to banish Neil Patrick Harris to the land of wind and ghosts for introducing that vomit-making Smurfs trailer ("Hi guys, here's a few seconds of some complete shit we made and it only cost us the state budget of California"). But things are now all better between me and NPH, because he'll be in the third Harold And Kumar movie.
When Hollywood produced the movie version of the musical version of the Mel Brooks classic The Producers (a movie about a failed Broadway musical, to make things even more meta), it sounded to me like something from The Onion reflecting on the lack of original ideas in recent years, both on stage and on film. But it was for real, and was then followed by the film adaptation of the musical adaptation of the John Waters film Hairspray. And now Hollywood is doing it again, with Footloose, slated for a 2011 release. With no end in sight to the phenomenon, I have to wonder—what will be the next blockbuster film adaptation of a musical ripped off from Hollywood?
No doubt you've read the gossip about the recent goings-on with Jeremy London. Homegirl has gotten himself into a hot mess of an intricate situation that seems to have been devised by the writers of Six Feet Under, a four year old and a Choose Your Own Adventure book with half the pages missing.
So, Jeremy London. Aside from him being in the center of a riveting bad-accident-scene-type story, who the eff is Jeremy London?
Entries were trickling in until the late hours of Wednesday night. Well, not so much "trickling in" as "blasting in with the crippling force of a fire hose". And so the time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things. Like shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings. And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings. But mostly to announce the winners, of course.
Random Number Generator had PLENTY of entries to choose from, so let's see what it came up with...
Because every movie concept that could ever possibly exist has apparently already been imagined and fully- realized, every fucking week another studio announces another inevitably-terrible, uncalled-for remake. This week's impending-bastardization announcement comes courtesy of the creative geniuses at The Mark Gordon Company, who are reportedly looking for writers for a Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead remake.
There is this French actress, see? And I saw a picture of her sometime this last week in which she was looking so freaking cool and like I should completely fall in love with her in a totally devoted but non-creepy way.
Shut up. I'm not creepy.
And so I asked Who is that woman?, and I was told that it was none other than Delphine Chanéac from the movie Splice, and so I decided to devote today to her beautiful visage, because it is important to have beautiful things to look at.
I've been watching a lot of Twilight lately. I've forbidden my husband from deleting it off the DVR and I've put a secret lock code on it because I don't trust him. The thing is, I don't really like Twilight that much. I think it's an extremely so-so movie with poor acting, laughable dialogue, and a distracting blue wash over the film that does a terrible job convincing me that sunny Oregon is actually rainy Forks. Why do I watch it then? I'm obsessed with the slo-mo walk.