In a previous life, my roommate and I were crazy-fool movie freaks who saw as many films as we could afford. We even wrote a film review website that basically consisted of transcripts of our post-show trenchant banter. We lionized movies so much that we printed their names in ALL CAPS. Because our dork factor was pretty large. Not in a dress-up-and-reenact-STAR-WARS sort of way, but it was pretty bad.
Then I had children, and the only time I could go to the cinema was late at night, after they were in bed. I was so happy to be in the dark, alone, in a big comfortable chair, that I invariably passed out. So one day I took stock, realized I had slept through pretty much everything I'd seen for the last several weeks, and I quit.
I haven't thought about films much since then. But earlier this year, when I joined the Theater Defense Fund, I signed up for eight free weeks of Entertainment Weekly. And as I perused its Holiday Movie Preview this week, I admit I got a little of the itch back. There's a lot of good stuff coming out this award season, and even though most of it stars the usual suspects who somehow get nominated every year, I might have to see some of these flicks.
Especially Casino Royale. (Sorry ... CASINO ROYALE.) Hardcore Bond fans are decrying Daniel Craig as the new 007, and I'm stunned. Why they hatin'? Craig is the baddest badass the Broccolis have ever hired. Just look at his philtrum! He's a got a booger-chute as big as a shoehorn! If that doesn't scream "license to kill and scoop out your brains," I don't know what does.
There's another compelling story, though, one that eager moviegoers won't see this year. But they should. It's the story of a small boy, who got on a bike at age 3½ and flew down the street, wind fluttering in his little bowlhead haircut. He was brimming with confidence (a Maverick, if you will) until his a-hole parents took his training wheels off, and he had a tragic run-in with an innocent bystander. His hubris was gone. He was a broken biker boy.
Would he ever find an old, crusty mentor and/or the love of a good woman to help him recover? You'll have to find that out tomorrow, because I'm on a deadline here and I gotta get this sumbitch up by midnight.