Cinema Hype

1. Jason Segel can, like, write stuff. Apparently all that time in Judd Apatow’s writers’ room paid off; his movie is genuinely funny and well-written, and pleasingly un-formulaic. Skeptical as I am of Apatow’s sudden desire to paste his name on every R-rated comedy out there, I did not see this coming. (More CH Fun Facts, courtesy of IMDB: Jason Segel is 28, which makes me…a complete loser at life; he’s been tapped to write and direct the next Muppet movie. Apparently he has a thing for puppets? Awesome. Whatever. He can do his Dracula voice for me anytime he wants. No lie.)

2. Mila Kunis is, as a wise woman once said, an intense kind of pretty. Almost so pretty she stops being pretty, actually. I didn’t know there was a strike zone for that kind of thing.

3. Maybe, in the land of the Apatow Romantic Comedy, the girl who dumps doesn’t have to be a complete wench. Relational complexity? Wha?

4. Dracula is totally a puppet rock opera waiting to happen. If and when this comes to my home city, somebody must take me. This would be the world’s most amazing first date–true love, dapper fashion (the good Count sure knows how to dress for dinner), and singing hand puppets? Do they also sing “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”?

5. HAWAII. Why are you so far awaaaaay? (Also, I wonder if the Lost folks realize that if they walk far enough south, they’d hit Waikiki Beach? You’d think Jack would’ve figured that out by now.)

Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Jason Segel, Judd Apatow, Mila Kunis, Dracula, Hawaii

This Friday is one of my most-anticipated release dates of the summer-movie season. (I’ve been WAITING and WAITING for The Love Guru; didn’t you know?) (Kidding.) I’m so excited: Friday is all about the shoe phones and general awesomeness of Dwayne “The Rock Johnson. Yes! Get Smart is finally here!

Now, Get Smart is a TV remake, which might, in a more rational world, make me think it’s going to be terrible. Why does Hollywood continue to fixate on TV remakes, when so many of them are so bad? Maybe it’s a personal-nostalgia thing; that kid who broke his arm trying to jump through his parents’ car window is later bound and determined to bring The Dukes of Hazzard to life once more. More likely, it’s the lure of possibility: people like the idea of reinvigorating something dated and making it cool again (or maybe they’ve just forgotten why the shows were cancelled in the first place). Dismal box-office stats aside, there’s always the chance that justice will be done to some old, well-loved show, and audiences young and old will come in droves. Each attempt is, more than anything, likely to be a Beverly Hillbillies, a Brady Bunch Movie, or a Scooby Doo, but maybe—just maybe—it’ll be more of a Charlie’s Angels.

Furthermore, there’s a perpetual supply of material. Nostalgia is powerful; even a mediocre show can look ripe for adaptation after twenty years. What shows will we see on the big screen in 2025? Will there be all-star re-casts of Friends? Lost? Grey’s Anatomy? And why do all of those sound so distasteful now? Is it that these shows are really so inferior to, say, Miami Vice? Or are we just too close for time—the equivalent of soft-focus lighting—to do its thing? (Personally, I’m wishing and hoping and praying for a Golden Girls reunion movie. That Betty White! Such a kick!)

Maybe today’s TV lends itself less to adaptation in the first place. Reality TV’s hostile takeover of the networks thins the list of future big-screen offerings, and a lot of popular shows are now so serialized—with a defined beginning, middle, and end—that their stories would be hard to pick up in a one-shot format. Besides, some shows are already eliminating the waiting period and making movies while they’re still on the air. Maybe the future of TV remakes is doomed. But I doubt it. TV maybe changing, but something tells me studios will find a way to keep this weird, surprisingly non-lucrative trend chugging along. So…bring on Saved by the Bell: The Movie?

TV remakes, Get Smart, Dwayne Johnson, The Rock, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, The Dukes of Hazzard, Friends, Grey’s Anatomy, Lost, Miami Vice, Saved by the Bell, The Beverly Hillbillies, Scooby Doo, Scooby-Doo, The Brady Bunch, Golden Girls, Betty White

Do you find that you just can’t get enough CH goodness in your life? When it comes to movie news, are your eyes not cutting the mustard? For all you CH junkies out there–that would be you, Mom–I’ve got great news!

CH has been featured on the NPR show The Takeaway–you can hear it here, either by clicking “Listen” (a mishmash of all the featured reviews, heavily edited; I’m the first voice after they mention specific problems with the story), or by using the little player to listen to the whole thing. (If you click the link, you’ll find yourself…here.) For the truly obsessed, you can even download it as an mp3, but if you do that, I’m not sure I want to know about it.

Happy listening!

Update: It appears that the streaming audio may not be working (on a Mac, anyway). Avid listeners may need to download.

Why do I do this to myself? Why do I pretend I might like movies like The Happening? Is it some kind of peer-pressure thing? All the cool kids are white-knuckled and squinch-eyed in the theater, so I should be, too? Clearly, anything beyond Bambi on the creep scale is not to be endured. I know this about myself. Did I really think I was going to make it to the theater for whatever it is M. Night Shyamalan has up his sleeve?

They had me at the white-faced, bloody-nosed zombie. Now, I like a good creepy moment as much as the next girl (as long, of course, as the next girl doesn’t really like creepy moments). The people falling from the sky? Call me callous, but I think that’s a pretty awesome shot. But that zombie/alien colonist/James Carville freaks me out. As soon as the extended trailer hit my TV, the debate was over. Nothing but kittens and rainbows and unicorns for me, okay? I live in a Lisa Frank world. I’ve accepted that.

Apparently, everybody else agrees, or perhaps they’d just rather watch a green monster stomp all over the U.S. Army. The Happening came in third at the box office this weekend (trailing The Incredible Hulk by $24 million and the second weekend of Kung Fu Panda by $4 million, which doesn’t bode well for the alien zombie folks and their marketability). A $30 million first weekend isn’t terrible—plenty of movies you may have seen this year have opened to cooler audience responses—but it’s not enough to make Shyamalan’s film, which was a hard sell anyway due to the box-office failures of his previous two movies, a legitimate threat to the Hulk. Would The Happening have been a box-office winner in, say, April? I’d tell you, but then I’d be sleeping with the lights on for a week.

The Happening, The Incredible Hulk, M. Night Shyamalan, box office, box office totals, Kung Fu Panda, horror movies

To understand the newest rendition of The Incredible Hulk, you’d have to go back a few years. Not to 1962, when Stan Lee first premiered the character, but to 2003, when Ang Lee tried to bring him to the big screen and ended up with one of the biggest superhero-movie bombs in cinematic history. The Lee Hulk is long. It’s a thinker. It’s the worst thing a superhero movie can be: it’s boring. The Marvel Entertainment Hulk reboot, which opens today nationwide, is a clear reaction to the previous film—almost a point-by-point rebuttal—and it seems to accomplish the goal of amping up the Hulk franchise once again. However, if the further target is to create another thoughtful superhero film within the Marvel universe, something’s gone seriously off-course.

The Incredible Hulk’s success as an action flick is a relief, but it’s not surprising. Director Louis Leterrier keeps things speedy and simple, with a standard three action sequences—big, bigger, biggest—and a running time of less than two hours. It’s not very original, and it feels basic, but it works anyway; if anything, the Hulk-vs.-everybody-else scenes feel like a blend of modern CGI with a classic, pre-Michael-Bay eye for crafting complete stories within the action, without the nausea- and confusion-inducing close cuts we see in other action movies. Leterrier functions on a scale that’s appropriate for the Hulk, including plenty of story in his biggest, most elaborate sequences. Audiences looking for a good summer action movie should be pleased.

So the problem with The Incredible Hulk isn’t with the Hulk. The Hulk’s fine. Great, even. He does his crashing-around rage thing. But his poor alter ego, physicist Bruce Banner, gets short shrift, and the movie suffers because of it. Bruce’s backstory comes out in a vague kind of way during the opening credits—there’s a montage—and after that, nothing. We know how he feels about his girlfriend, Betty Ross, but then we know how most men would feel if they were dating a brilliant biologist in Liv Tyler’s body. Whether it’s a reaction to the overwrought backstory in Lee’s Hulk, this Bruce Banner never makes it into the third dimension. And what is a superhero without his or her alter ego? A superhero who’s only a superhero misses the point, doesn’t tell us anything about ourselves, and becomes vaguely resentable. Maybe nobody’s actively disliking Bruce Banner, but it’s difficult to connect with a character who won’t show his cards. It’s a shame, really. Why go to the trouble of hiring Edward Norton—arguably one of the best actors working onscreen today—and then give him so little to do? Norton’s a great choice for Bruce Banner; his regular-Joe looks and slight build make him a natural counterpoint to the alter ego he hates so much, and he’s the kind of actor who could easily lend added depth to a shallowly-written role. All he needs is a good line or two. Maybe a pensive look. We want to know this guy, and the movie never gets us there.

In the end, this reboot will probably be marked down as a success. Fans can heal from their disappointment over the Lee adaptation; it’ll do well at the box office; Marvel will keep up its winning streak, and maybe stretch it into a Hulk sequel. There’s plenty to enjoy here, in a spectacular, smash-and-grab kind of way. But if a contribution to the canon of complex, well-rounded superhero movies was Marvel’s intent, they seem to have overshot.

The Incredible Hulk, Edward Norton, Liv Tyler, Louis Leterrier, Marvel Entertainment, Ang Lee, Hulk

Just in case you couldn’t tell—you’ve been living in a Luddite community, say, or have been trapped under something heavy in the recent past—2008 may be the Year of the Superhero. Or, if studio news is to be believed, it’s just the birth of an era. Either way, you know where we’re going with this. Flight! Super-strength! Insect fluid shooting conveniently from wrists! Lassos of truth!

But no superhero is all superhero. There’s got to be a person in there, someone for the rest of us, in all our ordinariness, to connect with. Otherwise, as much as we fawn over flawless CGI and effortless action, we frankly don’t care. Which is why I bring you, today, Cinema Hype’s Top Five Superhero Film Alter Egos. (Not a very elegant name. Maybe titling and acronyms aren’t my power; I’m more of a spelling prodigy. Can I have a cape?)

1. Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark, Iron Man
He’s not square of jaw or deep of voice, but that’s exactly the point. Downey’s weathered persona and wry line delivery make him the ideal counterpoint to big-chested heroes and nice-guy alter egoes like Clark Kent and Peter Parker, and possibly—time will tell—one of the best-loved alter egos of all time.

2. Christian Bale as Bruce Wayne, Batman Begins
Maybe Christopher Nolan’s script gave him the extra boost previous Batmen didn’t have, but Bale’s Wayne is deftly balanced between the wounded soul and the playboy aristocrat, lifting him above all other modern Batmen (Michael, Val, and even Intern George). Bale’s got gravitas, or maybe just a self-destructive streak. Either way, it works.

3. William H. Macy as the Shoveler, Mystery Men
Yes, Hank Azaria’s funnier in costume. And yes, his power—talent, whatever you want to call it—is unusual. But he shovels well. He shovels very well.

4. Tobey Maguire as Peter Parker, Spider-Man
Peter Parker’s the nice-guy alter ego we were talking about earlier, and he really sells it just to the limits of attractiveness. Sure, he follows Mary Jane around when she totally doesn’t deserve it—more puppy than spider—but he’s brilliant, loyal, and brave. So, so lovable.

5. Violet Parr, The Incredibles
Every girl is Violet at some point in her life—wanting to be invisible and wanting to be seen, all at the same time; the only difference is that Violet Parr can actually turn invisible. Voiced by the very smart and very funny Sarah Vowell, she’s a great representation of adolescence and of the promise of the end of adolescence, and let’s face it: she could totally take Wonder Woman.

Top Five, superheroes, alter egos, alter egoes, Iron Man, Ironman, Robert Downey Jr., Tony Stark, Batman, Batman Begins, Christian Bale, Bruce Wayne, William H. Macy, The Shoveler, Mystery Men, Tobey Maguire, Spider-Man, Spiderman, Violet Parr, The Incredibles, Sarah Vowell

A lot of people seem to be talking today about this New York Times story comparing the first American Girl movie, Kit Kittredge: An American Girl to Sex and the City: The Movie. It seems the two have a few points in common, from shared punctuation to the financial failure (and subsequent dissolution by Time Warner) of the studios that made them. Both could be considered chick flicks, though the chicks in question may vary wildly (or not; ostensibly, some Sex and the City viewers will also accompany children to Kit). They both have the potential to draw very specific, but very lucrative, niche markets. But in the middle of all this, one question remains: do girls actually need a Sex and the City of their very own?

I would argue that, while need is an awfully strong word, the answer is yes. Nobody’s condoning Samantha Jones joining the Big Sisters/Big Brothers—that’s a kind of education most kids won’t need for awhile yet—but pretty much all adolescent and pre-adolescent girls could use positive models of female friendship. And if there’s an example of women being there for each other, celebrating and confiding and fighting and making up and ultimately showing up when it counts, it’s Sex and the City.

And that’s the thing: before they hit High School Musical and the first half of Mean Girls, where the world revolves around Zac Efron and, well, mean girls, girls could use something that’s just about girls—about how to tell a friend the honest truth, about how friendships change and grow, about girls having adventures, about how sometimes hanging out with the girls is really the best medicine. And when you take away the Manolos and the constant stream of good-looking men—they’re secondary anyway—that’s what you’ve got in Sex and the City. Lots of other pre-teen girl movies are strikingly individual, from girl sleuths to random animal movies. This is something different, something striking and specific: girls in groups succeeding because they’re in groups. This is gives a whole new meaning to the term Girl World.

Kit isn’t the first tween-girls-against-the-world movie, just like Sex and the City isn’t the first women-against-the-world movie—but there are fewer of the former than you’d think. If they’re willing to make some use of the Wayback Machine, today’s pre-adolescents could check out Troop Beverly Hills or Now and Then, and maybe The Parent Trap (original or re-make; take your pick), but after that it’s all post-puberty. Even The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, a mainstay of the pre-Steel Magnolias set (with a sequel coming out this summer), starts at age 15. Maybe tween girls don’t have the spending power of their older sisters, though Hannah Montana and her sisters seem to prove otherwise. Maybe they’re just not interesting without the promise of any kind of romance. Maybe tween girls in groups are just too hard to wrangle on set (don’t think I don’t know; I was eleven once, myself). Who knows? But it seems like a few more girl-power movies for the younger set might not be such a bad plan.

After all, we can save them Cosmopolitans for later.

Sex and the City, Sex in the City, Kit Kittredge: An American Girl, Kit Kittredge, American Girl, American Girls, Abigail Breslin, chick flicks

I think the cat’s pretty much out of the bag when it comes to me and my crush on the Coen brothers. Of course, everybody loves the Coens these days, even people who never loved them before. They’re Best Picture winners, and suddenly The Ladykillers is fine cinema. So it goes.

And I guess I’m a bit of an easy target. Something about the rubber-band dialogue, the simple humor, the consistent brutality of their writing—even Coen comedies usually have at least one moment that comes on like a suckerpunch; think John Goodman as the Bible salesman in O Brother, Where Art Thou?—draws me in. And then there was No Country for Old Men, which had so much to say even with some of the longest stretches of silence this side of a solo road trip. It’s a Thing, the Coen brothers and me. But I have to say that it’s been many moons since I’ve loved a trailer like I love the trailer for the next Coen release, Burn After Reading. Check this out:

So we have a little Coen dialogue here, a little Pitt-Clooney silliness there, a little of each of these people doing what they do best, which basically adds up to classic comedy, revived. Feel the rhythm of that trailer—not to sound geriatric, but who in this day and age has cadence, who swings, like the this particular writing-directing-acting team? And anyway, why haven’t the Coens worked with Pitt before, when the match is so clearly one forged in heaven? If anybody approximates the screwball comedy aesthetic, retro or not, it may be these guys. Supplement the core cast with Tilda Swinton making funny faces (which is Swintonland means that quirked eyebrow), the return of J.K. Simmons to the Coen stable (zoo?) of talent, John Malkovich!, and the Russian mob, and we have a film that is practically unhateable. Come its September release date, I’m sure I won’t be the only one calling out hilarity all around—again with the Best Picture winner thing—but that won’t make me any less right.

Coen brothers, Joel Coen, Ethan Coen, Burn After Reading, George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Tilda Swinton, J.K. Simmons, JK Simmons, John Malkovich, John Goodman, O Brother Where Art Thou?, No Country for Old Men

When I was a little girl, my dad once said to me—in line for either the water slides or some unknown roller coaster; I’m don’t remember which, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my idea—”Hey, sometimes it’s fun to be scared.” Even at the time, I was pretty sure he was either wrong or lying. And that, ladies and gentlemen, boils down the basics of why this blog pretends that horror movies don’t exist. I don’t like to be startled; I don’t want to sleep with all the lights on. I don’t want to be a grown woman who’s just waiting for some Child of the Corn to come wandering into her bedroom as she sleeps. Alone.

Which makes me uncertain about The Happening. I like the poster, with all the abandoned cars; I keep telling myself that maybe it’s just a suspense thing. I like suspense. And I sometimes dig M. Night Shyamalan. After all, The Sixth Sense is my usual rule of thumb for scariness, the approximate ceiling of what I’m willing to subject myself to. So, you know, maybe fair game, right?

It’s true that I’ve skipped his last couple of projects, but that was a function of their being bad, not scary; I did see Signs and survive. But The Happening, as the ad campaign associated with it loves to remind us, is rated R, a first for the Shyamalan universe. And that makes me nervous—they don’t rate suspense movies R for nothing. So I guess that’s the question: does The Happening move Shyamalan from suspense and the supernatural into full-fledged horror territory? And how many minutes of the movie would it take me to figure that out?

Readers, I’m depending on you to let me know: CH-friendly, or no?

The Happening, M. Night Shyamalan, The Sixth Sense, Signs

Imagine being the person who chooses the trailers to attach to Sex and the City: The Movie. This is a big job—if the Sex and the City franchise is the royalty of women’s entertainment, you’ve got to figure that the trailers running before it are a kind of State of the Chick Flick address. The news here is good and bad. We saw The Accidental Husband and Mamma Mia!, which, if we’re going with the checking-in political theme, are like the vague assurances about health care and education reform—always there, always agreeable, and either a bit of a letdown (in the case of the latter, possibly) or a complete disaster from the start (which would be the former). And then there were the weird coattail-riders, the things nobody had really heard about and probably didn’t vote for, i.e. the new trailers. Like these:

The Women

I’ve got to hand it to Meg Ryan: she’s been trying to get this movie made for a long, long time, and she finally got it to the big screen. Whether the remake will be any good or bear any resemblance at all to the 1939 original remains to be seen—all evidence points to a tentative no on both counts, but we’ll reserve judgment—but the concept of an entirely female cast is intriguing. The main question here is probably whether the movie is more of a Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 14 or Heathers, Alive Again; it’s hard to say from the preview. Either way, it’s got Eva Mendes, which means The Men might show up even if The Women don’t.

He’s Just Not That Into You

This looks genuinely interesting. Based on the briefly-popular self-help/comedy book of the same name, this is…an unromantic comedy? A celebration of platonism? Or a falsely-advertised romance? Hard to tell. (Kind of. I mean, come on.) Anyway, it’s about time the excellent Ginnifer Goodwin got a leading role, and her supporting cast isn’t exactly creamed chicken livers on toast, either. Will it be as sharp and refreshing as the trailer leads us to believe? I…can’t say, not being a) psychic or b) a studio exec (not that they’d know either. Oh, burn!). But until then, CH is tentatively on board.

What do you think, readers? State of the Chick Flick? Are we recessing, or just in a pre-recession slump? Is there hope?

Sex and the City, Sex and the City movie, chick flicks, trailers, The Women, Meg Ryan, Eva Mendes, The Accidental Husband, Mamma Mia!, He’s Just Not That Into You, Ginnifer Goodwin

I’m pretty sure I can state the essence of Junebug in fifteen words or fewer, but I’m also pretty sure what I have to say is not the same as what writer Angus MacLachlan would say about his movie, or even want to hear about it. I’m also convinced that I speak for the people. Want to hear it?

Him, paraphrased: Junebug is about connection and lack of connection, about family, and about the fragmentation of modern life.

Me: Junebug is about Amy Adams and her enduring talent and general awesomeness.

If nothing else, I believe I have the Academy voters on my side: they nominated Adams’s performance for Best Supporting Actress in 2005, and not for nothing. Her performance is an early indication of what she does best: committing fully to being the sweetest (but not the brightest) girl in the world. For example:

I’m not going to lie: Junebug might have been called The Movie Where Amy Adams Makes Me Laugh and Cry, and Not Much Else Happens. She’s just that good, and the material works hard for her. To be fair, the rest of the cast also puts in a good effort. Embeth Davidtz goes above and beyond her usual cool-as-a-cucumber routine—she and Adams work some surprisingly good chemistry—and Ben McKenzie and Alessandro Nivola do what they can. But the script ultimately doesn’t help them out. Even if the performances are good, there’s not enough story articulated to include the viewer. It’s like trying to read MacLachlan’s mind, as if he had everything planned out but misjudged the amount of information the audience would need to stay connected, and the overall sense is more one of frustration than anything else—we want to know, but we’re left trying to follow threads that don’t really lead anywhere. If MacLachlan really was going for lack of connection, he got it. Too bad, too.

Amy Adams, Embeth Davidtz, Alessandro Nivola, Ben McKenzie, Junebug, Best Supporting Actress 2005, Angus MacLachlan

INT. CINEMA HYPE HEADQUARTERS

VOICE-OVER — LIZ
Back at my apartment, with my off-brand Red Vines my a stable of cheap, non-Manolo heels in the closet, I had to ask myself: How good was the Sex and the City movie?

(Hee. Sorry about that.)

First of all, I need to clarify something. Did I call Sex and the City a movie? Because I think I was mistaken. This is no three-hour tour; it’s a phenomenon. The Saturday late show at my local AMC was a madhouse—the line to get in snaked all around the front of the theater, though it was really more like packs of women in dresses and stiletto heels than an actual line. The theater sounded like someone’s (enormous) dorm room during a marathon of the show—I never support chatter during movies, but it’s hard to argue with the kinds of hooting, hollering, gasping, and “oh no he didn’t!”-ing going on here. This was a tide of chandelier earrings, lip gloss, and down-and-dirty fashion envy.

I think writer/director Michael Patrick King would have loved—or at least been flattered by—the scene. After all, these are his people. He gets these women, or at least a highly fictionalized, overpaid, underworked version of them. This last call for the Sex and the City world must have been a good feeling for him. Fortunately for all, it’s a pretty good feeling for the rest of us, too.

The only real glitch in the transition from series to movie—the hurdle that keeps the movie from all-time-favorite status—takes place somewhere in the super-sizing process. The genius of Sex and the City as a television show was that it dealt mainly in small moments—a lost necklace here, a Post-It breakup there. By necessity, the movie ups the ante, but some of the nuances get lost in the scaling-up process, so that a few major plot points hang on character decisions that don’t entirely make sense, or aren’t explained in a way that feels natural in the moment. That said, the transition works remarkably well: the screen size has changed, but the spirit is the same, and the level of detail and continuity should be satisfying for longtime fans (new viewers, maybe less so). The gang’s all here—whether you’re a Steve Brady fan or a Mr. Big aficionado (just try to call him by his real, full name), or just miss the fashion or going to brunch with the girls, we hit all the high points, and each of the four main characters gets plenty of spot-on character time. Yet there’s also forward motion—this isn’t just a rehash for old times’ sake. Without going into details, I’ll just say…things change, though in a way that’s consistent with the rest of the series. One added dimension comes with the Sex and the City world’s only truly new character, Carrie’s personal assistant, Louise (Jennifer Hudson). Louise represents the young women of New York, the women Our Heroines used to be, but she’s used judiciously—a pleasant reminder and celebration of being wiser, more experienced, and yes, older. It’s just what you’d want for one last session with the girls. Er, women.

The real gift of this movie—what makes it triumphant despite the slightly mushy storytelling— is King’s remarkable focus. The budget and time allowances of a movie sometimes pull TV adaptations off course. Sex and the City stays on point with impressive determination: this is a movie about Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha. Period. If it’s a story about love, it’s a story of platonic love first. If it’s a story about sex, it’s even more a story about battling loneliness—with the help of good friends. It’s a celebration of women, of friendship, and King never lets go of that vision. And for that, millions of women (in stiletto heels or not) should thank him.

Sex and the City, Sex and the City: The Movie, Sex and the City movie, Sarah Jessica Parker, Sarah-Jessica Parker, SJP, Carrie Bradshaw, Kristin Davis, Charlotte York, Cynthia Nixon, Miranda Hobbes, Miranda Hobbs, Kim Catrall, Samantha Jones, Mr. Big, Chris Noth, chick flicks