The Librarian: Quest for the Spear
OK, I'll bite: Did Noah Wyle finally read the script and assume that if he played the role as it wasn't written, like sort of a cross between Sam Malone and Joel Goodson, they'd let him off the hook and make — I don't know — Matthew Broderick do it? I mean, you know how Hollywood usually tries to throw in a pair of glasses to nerd up the hunky actor when he wants to play against type and pass himself off as an egghead? Wyle didn't even bother here.

Hey, wait — my inner geek just caught the Enterprise-doors sound effect as they stepped out of the elevator.

Anyway, Wyle, like any other actor, is looking at his postseries career. Smart. But if he's looking at this as his answer? Not so. (And I won't even begin to tackle why the hell Kyle MacLachlan and Bob Newhart are in this. Maybe they let them shoot all their scenes in one day?)

The Simpsons
Exchange of the evening:

Diamond Joe Quimby: "Err, uh... that is not my baby."
Baby: "Err, uh... waah."

Other exchange of the evening:

Chloe: "How about a half hour of pity sex?"
Barney: "Is there any other kind? [Belch]"

The Five People You Meet in Heaven
The moral of this story, from where I stand? Don't make wire bunnies for adorable little girls. It only makes them do lunkheaded things like sitting under a malfunctioning ride so you get you killed saving them.

And can anyone blame Eddie for running like hell when he wakes up at Ruby Pier and blue Jeff Daniels tells him he's in heaven? I mean, your place of work is heaven? Did my boss write this?

Still, for all my wise-assery, how could you not get a lump in your throat at that ending, eh? Yeah... I'm a sucker for love and a Ferris wheel, too. And I eagerly await the sequel, The Five People You Meet in Hell.

The Life and Death of Peter Sellers
"You simpering cow... You want to be a failure like your father, keep mewling about contentment. I didn't bring you up to be content... Bite the hand that feeds you. Then there'll always be another hand with more food and they'll be impressed by the sharpness of your teeth." — Mama Peg Sellers.

Golly, with a sweetheart of a mother like that, how did he grow up to be unhappy?

"Peter, why can't we be a normal family?" asks his missus. "We are," Sellers answers.

Oh, sure, of course — provided everyone's dad stomps on all their toys when they make a mistake, buys them a pony to make up for it, moves their home without warning, tells the kids he doesn't love them as much as he loves Sophia Loren (also filling them in that Mom's sleeping with another man), steals a movie from David Niven, subjects the kids to tantrums and breakdowns over his professional insecurities, takes up with Britt Ekland for a disastrous marriage after misinterpreting the advice of the fraud medium to whom he's entrusted decisions about his future, kicks the crap out of his body with every substance he can get his hands on, ignores his dying mum, mocks Ekland's efforts to comfort him, tears into Blake Edwards in public, and gets married four times.

I really did love him as Chance the gardener, though.


Henry's Film Corner
If you don't like Henry Rollins, you're wrong. Within five seconds he uses Ben Affleck as a verb, as in, "Going to the movie theater means being Ben Afflecked to death." Agreed. My only suggestion for the show: Please stop with all the fast P.O.V. cuts; you can't make two guys talking more dynamic with nosebleed-speed angle changes. You can, however, make me ill. And you are. Then again, I've been drinking. So perhaps it's more me than you.

Having real porn actresses critique Boogie Nights? Funny idea. But then two of them say the movie inspired them to give the industry a try. Uh... so I guess you didn't really see it? Or didn't really get it.

But Rob Zombie uses the f-word. And the s-word. And the a-word. I think all film critics should be allowed to curse. And bring their mailmen on to talk about Kurosawa. Good stuff.

Bonus points to Rollins, by the way, for bringing Heidi on to yell at him. I get a kick out of her slapping him around on his radio show — so does he, obviously — and more of a good thing is a good thing.


Frosty the Snowman
All right, here it is: As a conflicted kid brought up in a kosher household, I always felt like I was sneaking into the back of the Christmas-special club before the doors closed, and was just hoping to make it through the full 30 minutes before someone asked for my membership card and then kicked me out. Exhibit 1: Frosty. Why was being in school on Christmas Eve a crisis? I couldn't relate. So you can see why hearing Professor Hinkle's voice or seeing Karen shiver brings up my old existential-fear-of-not-belonging crisis, right? Thanks for listening. And I like the names Harold and Oatmeal.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas
Of course I never tire of this. But that one second where the Grinch looks right at us and gives that slit-eyed squint and reptilian leer? Still makes me want to leave the closet light on. Seriously.