It's still the shoulder season for Hollywood right now, so this should be almost too easy. Which is good, since . . . I've got nothing else to write about.

Basic Instinct 2

There's almost too much material here to work with. Coming what, 14 years after the original, here is a film that has run through directors like a bull through drunken Spaniards (at one point David Cronenberg was attached) as well as leading men, including the truly cursed Benjamin Bratt, who was vetoed by Sharon Stone for the role for being a bad actor. That's got to feel good. It's like being blacklisted by Larry the Cable Guy for not being funny. And of course this is all while ignoring the elephant in the room, which is: is anyone ready for Sharon Stone to . . . you know. That? Look, I'm just saying: she was born in 1958. I guess this is going to be the acid test for whether or not we really are living in the age of the MILFs.

It might be so, really. I see on IMDB that she has another film in production. It is called Cougars. Her character's name? Mrs. Robinson.

"Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to . . . uh, well, I guess you're trying to show me your snatch." (Pause.) "I, uh, it's really working."

A Scanner Darkly

Richard Linklater, the bizzarely overrated director of horrid swindles like Slackers and Waking Life (alternative title: You'll Want To Take Your Own Life) takes on professional insane person Philip K. Dick's murk-o-babble story in which you and everyone you know are crazy, on drugs, and probably cops, maybe. Clear? For reasons unfathomable to everybody, it makes great use of that animo-filmy thing that is already so tired that it's been picked up by brokerage firms for their ads. Also, it stars Keanu Reeves. Squandering whatever audience goodwill he earned with genuinely watchable (if lightweight) films like Dazed & Confused and School of Rock, Linklater's film promises to be this year's Constantine: a debacle that embarrasses everybody within its blast radius.

Slither

Huh? I honestly don't really give a fuck, except to note that 1. It has Michael Rooker in it, aka "Henry" the serial killer; 2. It also has Rob Zombie in it, which amuses me for no good reason; and 3. I like to think of it as an appetizer for Snakes on a Plane. You know what would be a rad movie? Michael Rooker Vs. Samuel L. Jackson. It would totally be like AVP, but with . . . actors. Two man enter! One man leave! With snakes! I don't know.

V For Vendetta

Ah, it's the big one. Poor Alan Moore, who is clearly insane, but surely does not deserve the filmic insults delivered in his name. Maybe this one won't be as stunningly horrible as From Hell or League of Extraordinarily Insulting Moviemaking, but look at what a paltry statement that is. The ads for it cynically make it sound like the Wachowski brothers directed--they don't, and maybe that's a blessing, considering the horrible mess they made of the Matrix franchise. (Come on--the first one was a lot of fun, but was also really flabby. The next two were painfully wretched. And yes, if you must ask, I own the whole lot of them.)

Natalie Portman gets her head shaved, and then she gets assaulted by Siguorney Weaver, who screams, "I DID THIS FIRST!" Then Hugo Weaving speaks without moving his jaws at all, but nobody cares, because he's wearing a Guy Fawkes mask. Awesome! At the end, all the fat old guys die. Just like in real life.