Cinema Hype

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

I had to wonder a little this weekend about the Best Picture nominee list in 1938. There must have been an intense historical epic in the running, right? A gut-wrenching war story? A too-long biopic? So how did a sweet little dramedy like You Can’t Take it With You end up with the golden statuette? Can you imagine if Juno had beaten out No Country for Old Men this last March? The 1938 ceremony must have been something like that.

You Can’t Take it With You is almost comical in its Capra-ness. This is right in the middle of his prime, after It Happened One Night and Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, and before Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Arsenic and Old Lace, and It’s a Wonderful Life, and it combines some of his favorite things: the common man, David and Goliath, the desperation of true love, the joy of community. It even takes place in a house that looks suspiciously like the Baileys’ in It’s a Wonderful Life, and stars Jimmy Stewart.

This is a movie that, in a sense, hasn’t aged all that well. Audiences—and especially Oscar voters—like to think they’ve grown over the years, and You Can’t Take it With You is a fantastically simple story. Whether or not films have grown more emotionally complex since 1938, Capra’s world feels out of pace and out of place, like sincerity has no place in our moviegoing world. On the other hand, well, it’s delightful. Spoiler alert: the good guys win and the bad guys become good guys, and Jimmy Stewart is adorable, and there’s amateur ballet and a harmonica duet and a healthy dose of (literal) fireworks. Capra takes this funny, noisy, lovable family out of their own living room and into the audience’s, din and all. And seeing them so close up, it’s hard not to smile a little at their scrapes and their can-do attitude and the way everything works out. We get their snappy dialogue and the carefulness of their characterization along with the general hilarity of being part of the family—it turns out that behind the fun, somebody knew what they were doing all along, such that the Sycamore-Vanderhof household is not only more fun than the suits they’re up against, but than their competitors in other movies as well. And that is an accomplishment: something to smile about in the Best Picture slot. Slick, Capra. Real slick.

Next on Project 501: Gone with the Wind (1939)

For more on the origins of Project 501, click here. For all Project 501 posts, click here.

You Can’t Take It With You, Moss Hart, Frank Capra, Jimmy Stewart, James Stewart, It’s a Wonderful Life, Oscar Best Picture winners, Best Picture, 1938, classic movies

I wonder whether, given the option, Walden Media would have skipped out on making Prince Caspian and gone straight to The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. After all, let’s face it: Prince Caspian is not the most exciting Narnia book.

I think the Walden folks knew that, either in their minds or somewhere deeper down, in their hearts of hearts, which is why this movie is the way it is. It’s not bad–not boring, not badly written, not badly acted–but it feels less confident somehow. There’s a sense of compensation, like the source material isn’t quite interesting enough, so let’s intervene and make it interesting. And I think we can all predict what happens when we try to muddle with C.S. Lewis (automatic lightning bolt, obviously).

So somebody, somewhere along the line, messed with the novel. There’s a little more battling and a little less of some other things—my favorite part, Lucy partying in the woods all night, gone completely!—and a Susan/Caspian vibe that doesn’t ring a bell for me, but which I may just have forgotten. And it seems a little naive and curmudgeonly to even bring it up—because I know that sometimes (usually), screenplays don’t spring fully-formed from source material—except that The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was such a true, straight adaptation that any fudging in Prince Caspian is pretty readily apparent.

And then there’s the modernization element, which may be even more troubling (especially if you’re totally geriatric, like me. Get off my lawn!). One of the best things about The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was how straight it played everything, how little it took part in the dumbing-down or growing-up of family movies. Prince Caspian has plenty of moments that are true to the spirit of Lewis’s storytelling style, but it also makes use of more modern dialogue, more one-liners, and a CGI warrior-mouse who gets uncomfortably close to Shrekliness. And there are plenty of fine, casually-spoken family films out there—there’s a place for Shrek, surely—but it seems like, as a part of a series, the sensibility is just a little un-Narnian.

It’s not all bad. Not by far. One of the joys of the Narnia movie franchise is the casting, which has borne itself out well in this second film. Unlike a certain other much-loved fantasy film series we might name, all of the Pevensie-kid actors seem to be approaching (and/or leaving) adolescence with great grace. Georgie Henley, of Lucy fame, continues to be adorable and supremely un-annoying, but it’s Skandar Keynes as Edmund and especially Anna Popplewell as Susan who really distinguish themselves—both carry off brave, prickly, complicated characters convincingly and with a minimum of self-consciousness. (Somehow High King Peter is the least interesting, but I don’t think it’s William Moseley’s fault. Peter’s golden from the core, which we all know is boooring.) The issue of Susan and Peter’s fast-approaching adulthood plays out really well; Anna Popplewell in particular has grown up gorgeous, and the vague but present sense that Susan is Hot gets kind of uncomfortable. It’s satisfying to see the film work that out and deal with it in a way that makes sense. Well played, all.

And then there’s the rest of it, the things that come out in the trailers: assassination plot, gathering of various Narnian creatures, battle. WETA Studios—of Lord of the Rings special-effects fame—outdo themselves with all the creatures tunneling, running, riding, and flying to battle. Second-fiddle book or no, there’s plenty of (totally bloodless) mayhem to go around, plenty of excitement. It’s a summer family film doing what summer family films do best, and for that it’s worth a look.

Narnia, Narnia movies, Prince Caspian, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, C.S. Lewis, CS Lewis, William Mosley, Anna Popplewell, Skandar Keynes, Georgie Henley, WETA Studios, summer movies, movie reviews

When you’re a little kid, people like to tell you that two wrongs don’t make a right. They’re right, I suppose, if we’re doing moral math. I can’t think of a time when a wrong plus another wrong yielded a right, though I admit I don’t really go around classifying events as “wrongs” and “rights.” Sadly, now that I’m all grown up (heh), I’m also finding that I may have been lied to. Turns out that two rights may not add up to a right, either. For example:

Right #1: Julie and Julia, by Julie Powell. This is one of my favorite books of the past few years, something I picked up as light reading that somehow managed to attach itself to my psyche. It’s nonfiction: sometime around the turn of the century, a melodramatic, vegetarian executive assistant named Julie Powell decided, for no real reason, to cook all of the recipes in Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year, and keep a blog about it. The book deal came later, and what we get includes snippets of the blog, but mostly behind-the-scenes commentary from Powell’s tiny Brooklyn apartment. It’s funny and snarky, and there’s a whole chapter about aspic (which, when you think about it, is an endlessly hilarious word, not to mention concept), and it’s just…well, it’s great. It’s a Right.

Right #2: Amy Adams. I’m not sure whether I’ve given proper space to my recent affection for Adams. I loved her commitment to adorability in Enchanted—she might well have won the Golden Globe for her performance, had the show, you know, gone on—but I mostly like her because I look at her filmography and think that anyone who starts out with Drop Dead Gorgeous and gets broken up with on a booze cruise on The Office must be the kind of girl I’d like to hang out with. She is also a Right.

So why am I so wary about the recent news that Amy Adams is set to play Julie Powell in the film of Julie and Julia? I think it’s because, in my mind, Julie Powell may actually be the Anti-Adams. Or, rather, she’s the Anti-Adams-on-screen. She’s nerdy and moody and she and her husband like to eat pizza with jalapeno and bacon while watching Buffy. Her biggest celebrity crush is David Strathairn. Sometimes, she’s not very nice. Other times, she’s downright awful. She’s the kind of girl some of us turn out to be, once we realize that we won’t be making a profession of looking like a Disney princess, and so it stings a little to see the role played by someone who has made a profession of looking like a Disney princess. It’s the kind of casting that makes me excited for Adams, who could probably stand a job where she gets to be something other than 100% adorable (and, frankly, it kind of makes me like her even more), but it makes me a little sad for the rest of us, who hold out hope that sometimes just writing, or cooking, or writing about cooking, or doing whatever it is that we do, makes us a little bit of a supermodel/rockstar, even if we’re doing it in some tiny kitchen somewhere.

(On another note, though: Residual sadness aside, such a dream team! Adams, Meryl Streep, and Stanley Tucci; written by Nora Ephron! The heart, it pounds!)

Julie and Julia, Julie/Julia Project, Amy Adams, Julie Powell, Meryl Streep, Stanley Tucci, Nora Ephron

1. Kate Beckinsale, pre-hot. Back before she was bombed at Pearl Harbor and sold a copy of Love in the Time of Cholera, she was young and unpolished and very, very charming. We find that she does “pert, straightforward ingenue” surprisingly well, and her performance indicates that she has, in fact, read the novel. Extra points for getting to read the line, upon reuniting with her true love, “Charles, you have got heavenly teeth!”

2. Besides the hilarious novel by Stella Gibbons, it’s the title of an old episode of Are You Being Served?, which I didn’t understand until recently. I feel much better now. Thank you, Netflix!

3. Stephen Fry–yes, as in Dr. House’s former comedy partner–perpetually trying to chase Beckinsale down in an attempt to kiss her, ask her on a “walk” (if you…know what we mean), tell her she’s inhibited, and ask her, “Miss Poste, do you believe women have souls?” Oh, Mr. Mybug. Where would we be without you?

4. A truly creepy opening scene that has little to do, tonally, with the rest of the film–there’s nothing scary about Cold Comfort Farm, except maybe the general squalor, but Flora soon gets that in order–but gets things off to a good start, and introduces the ubiquitous “something nasty in the woodshed!”

5. Wonderful casting, both of the stars-at-the-time and the stars-in-the-future variety: Joanna Lumley doing her Ab-Fabbiest thing, Ian McKellen preaching hellfire and damnation, Rufus Sewell looking hot in a tux and probably doing some acting as well, etc. Hilarity ensues.

Now, don’t get me wrong: I love a good mystery. Bring on the whodunits. I’m all over a good tale of murder and mayhem.

But do you know the problem with The Thin Man? I like the heroes, Nick and Nora Charles, so much that I tend to forget the plot of the movie. Julia Wolf? Something about stolen shares for Dorothy Wynant’s wedding? I believe there was an absent-minded professor in there somewhere? …Right. Now, can we go back and hang out with the Charleses again? Oh, and bring Asta. He’s awfully cute, not to mention a fine crime-fighter and a classic crossword-puzzle clue.

I’m not saying the Charleses are much in the way of role models, though naming a line of pajamas after them isn’t such a bad idea. Nick and Nora are drunk most of the time, and solving mysteries is really more of a hobby for them than a serious engagement. But who are we to judge? After all, a murderer caught in fun (at a lovely dinner party, no less) is still a murderer caught, and we can’t fault them for that. And they do seem to very much enjoy being married to one another, which isn’t such a bad thing. In any case, they win at witty banter.

If only I could remember who did it and why. But never mind; Nick and Nora probably wouldn’t, either.

The Thin Man, Nick and Nora Charles, Nick and Nora, William Powell, Myrna Loy, Dashiell Hammett

Yes, I know that novels are usually better than their movie adaptations. It makes sense, after all; the author’s got the original ideas, minus the middleman. The adapters have to make sense of someone else’s brain-work. Something somewhere is bound to get lost in the translation. But I have to say that Atonement, the upcoming adaptation of Ian McEwan’s much-lauded (and actually-really-good, not-overhyped) novel, may give the old cliche a run for its money.

I’m not saying the movie adaptation is going to be better than the novel–good luck on that one, guys–but after reading this interview with Christopher Hampton, who wrote the script, I’m starting to think that the movie might end up being a worthy representation. And isn’t that all we can really ask?

What brings a smile to my face here is the sense that Hampton is truly trying to bring McEwan’s prose to the screen while preserving its detail and texture–and let me assure you, his prose is jam-packed with both. It’s a risky process. Atonement is complex enough in structure and delicate enough in tone that it’s the kind of novel that could easily be butchered in the Hollywoodization process. But Hampton’s obvious respect for the novel and his comments about the structure reassure me that he’s really zeroing in on the source material and not just using it as a “jumping-off place.”

I’m also excited, as I believe I’ve gushed mentioned before, about Joe Wright’s direction. I love what somebody else–pardon me; I can’t remember who–said about Wright’s Pride and Prejudice adaptation: somebody recently called it “loose and lively.” And that’s exactly what it is: it’s not perfectly accurate to the text (but again, Wright’s not writing; he’s just literally calling the shots), but it is accurate in tone. He’s got the feel, which in the end counts for a surprising amount. And there’s something about his style–the sense of motion, maybe? Or the eye for detail?–that seems like an ideal match for McEwan, who is similarly focused on movement and minutiae. Good things will come of this, mark my words.

Enough of my obsessive Atonement talk; I’ll shut up now. Or check out these reviews if you just can’t wait. (Just don’t tell me; I know approximately what they say but I’m trying to hang on to my own opinions.)

Atonement, Ian McEwan, Keira Knightley, James McAvoy, Christopher Hampton, TIFF, Toronto International Film Festival

When discussion arose the other day of Angelina Jolie terrorizing some poor Scandinavian village as Grendel’s mother in the upcoming Beowulf movie, we at CH felt a strange calm descend over headquarters. Sure, somebody had cast Jolie as Grendel’s mother, but only her voice, right? Surely Grendel’s mother, being, you know, a monster, would be CGI, and Jolie would lend her admittedly soothing/terrifying voice to the role. Right?

Wrong.

The strange calm has deserted us now that we know the truth: Angelina Jolie is Grendel’s mother, in the flesh; no masks, no crazy makeup. How “32-year-old knockout” translates to “murderous mother of adult monster-creature played by Crispin Glover” is unclear. Even more bizarre is why anybody decided they loved Jolie for her English accent. The world turns upside down, we say!

The Rumor Investigation Squad must go sit down for a while.

Naomi Watts to
be Lord Voldemort’s minion?
Coy agents say no.

So, you may have heard it here first, but…you may have heard it here wrong. Or maybe not. It’s….hard to tell. According to MTV Movies, Naomi Watts’s rep denies any involvement with the sixth Harry Potter movie. Of course, although MTV is clearly a fountain of truthful information, not everyone’s buying it, so we may just be dealing with a publicist biding his or her time. The truth remains to be seen. It’s a pity, though; Watts probably would have been fantastic. Or will be. We’ll see.

Naomi Watts, Narcissa Malfoy, rumors, casting rumors, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

We at CHHQ apologize (a little) for the constant Harry Potter chatter around these parts–we’d planned a Hairspray-themed post for today, if you must know–but this is just too good to pass up.

Turns out that despite the studio’s desire to maintain an all-British cast for the Harry Potter films, they’ve made an exception in the name of awesomeness: news broke today that Naomi Watts (born British but generally considered Australian) has signed on to play Narcissa Malfoy in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Now that’s making up for Helena Bonham Carter.

The big question remains: Will Watts’s Malfoy upstage Nicole Kidman’s Mrs. Coulter in the Battle of the Evil Blondes? We’ll see.

Harry Potter, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Narcissa Malfoy, Naomi Watts, Nicole Kidman, Mrs. Coulter, The Golden Compass, Evil Blondes

Why the quick cuts
and bland CGI backdrops?
What are you hiding?

Last night at our 6 p.m. showing of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, we saw a good collection of trailers–a couple of kids’ movies, Vince Vaughn’s over-marketed Christmas project, and the current Hot Trailer, The Golden Compass. I’ve seen the Golden Compass trailer several times now, but I’ve been reluctant to write about it. The truth is, the trailer pretty much leaves me cold, no matter how much I want to like the movie.

Fortunately, I’ve come to the conclusion that the problem may lie in the construction of the trailer, and not in the movie itself.

Remember, a million and a half years ago now, the teaser trailer for Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone? We got a camera panning over suburban London, a few street lights going out, and a cat sitting on the fence. An owl swooped down from the sky to deliver a letter. The address? “Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard Under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.” That was it, and it was completely effective. Everybody knew what was about to happen.

The Golden Compass trailer takes the opposite tack: it’s a generalized look at the world of the film, with quick cuts of the dirigibles, Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig, witches flying around, and a plucky little girl demanding to go north and fight. We learn that she may be “the child.” Oh, and there are bears. The problem with this trailer is that it assures fans of the novel that all of the key elements will be there, but it doesn’t give anybody much of a sense of the story. It feels like a lack of confidence: if this film is that good, we don’t need to be reassured that there will, in fact, be armored polar bears. Better to set the movie apart as something polished and subtle than to lump it in with all of the other fantasy-adventure movies we see in theaters all the time. Do they not believe in the size and loyalty of Phillip Pullman’s fan base? (If so, I believe they’ll be surprise; the Harry Potter generation had to have something to read in between books.) Something simple, stylish, and mystical would have been a better choice if they want to establish themselves on the level of the Potter films.

I still have high hopes for the movie. After all, two minutes of clips does not a fictional world make.

The Golden Compass, trailers, Harry Potter, Phillip Pullman, Nicole Kidman

What is there to say about Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix? Come to think of it, what is there to say about any of the Harry Potter movies? I’m always torn about them: I like the idea of them, but somehow they never quite live up to my expectations. Essentially, I always forget that they are bound to be incomplete tellings of stories I already know. Things aren’t getting any easier, either–the plot keeps getting more complex and the cast of characters is officially enormous by the time we’ve hit number five. How is any director to cram all of those people and all of those events in without compressing them completely?

The answer is, he isn’t. Or at least, this director isn’t. HPOotP–as the film shall now officially be called around CHHQ–introduces a whole gaggle of new characters, and director David Yates gives all but the most important a moment of screen time and then moves on. Same with the story; HPOotP is the longest Harry Potter novel and the shortest Harry Potter movie, so you do the math on what gets cut. To be honest, though, the ruthless edit isn’t such a bad thing. The first half of the novel is entirely too long, and Harry is at the pinnacle of his fifteen-year-old obnoxious spell, and the movie audience escapes both of those scot-free. In fact, the movie turns out to be pretty efficient: it’s fast-paced but it squeezes in the most important emotional truths, and hits the high points in between. Any Harry Potter fan should be reasonably satisfied with this adaptation.

This installment of the Harry Potter series is nice because Yates doesn’t seem tied to some of the conventions of the previous four. There is no Quidditch in this movie, which probably irritated a lot of people, but how much flying around do we really need to see at this point? The Sorting Hat is gone, and the first-years seem to be nowhere in sight. We barely see Platform 9 3/4, but it’s okay. By this time, we know the routine. It’s time to move on to the meat of the story, and anyway, things around Hogwarts are changing. Best not to get too attached to the idylls of the first few films.

On the other hand, the climax of the film is the least inspiring segment. Much of the action is pretty spectacular, but this is one instance where an extra ten minutes would have been worth it. The story in HPOotP is about teamwork. It’s about faithfulness. Harry’s friends insist on going off to the final adventure of the novel with him, but end up doing a lot of hurrying up and waiting while Harry does most of the fighting. A better model might have been to give each of the Hogwarts kids a moment to shine, which would have reinforced the importance of Harry’s friends as backup. Instead, they just make concerned-looking hostages.

Aside from the nitty-gritty of the plot, half the fun of the Harry Potter movies is the casting–who’s playing who and how. The casting in this film, with one major exception, is spot-on. I have been skeptical about any director pulling off a convincing Dolores Umbridge, because the Umbridge in my head is animated–if you must know, she’s the crazy frog-monster chick from Monsters, Inc. stuffed into a series of pink suits and given a different haircut. I should never have doubted Imelda Staunton. She’s perfect: sticky-sweet and completely terrifying, all at once. And then there’s Luna Lovegood. I have to admit that I’m not sure the “picking random children out of the crowd” model of casting has worked out so well for the Harry Potter casting folks so far, but Evanna Lynch is, well, perfect. She looks perfect and she sounds perfect and she has the aimless but perceptive nature absolutely down. I spent half the movie watching her in the background, just because she was so consistently good. More Loony Lovegood, I say!

The only casting misstep in HPOotP is, unfortunately, kind of a big one. Or, to be specific, it will be later on. I see the logic behind choosing Helena Bonham Carter (crazy brunette? Check) to play Bellatrix Lestrange, but the film’s take on Bellatrix rubs me the wrong way from start to finish. There are so many other crazy British brunettes they could have chosen–why not Eva Green? She could have worn her everyday makeup and not changed a thing. Or maybe Rachel Weisz pretending to be something besides beautiful and charming? Someone glamorous and deliberately evil would have been far creepier than Bonham Carter’s straight-out-of-Azkaban crazy. I mean, the woman could at least wash her hair. Come on.

In all, HPOotP is a good installment in a series that keeps getting a little better each time. Yates has signed on for the sixth film, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and I expect him to do good things.

Harry Potter, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Noir is as noir does;
Owen and Miller try to
out-gritty us all.

What could be cooler than a series of adaptations of Raymond Chandler’s classic detective novels, starring Clive Owen? How about a series of adaptatios of Raymond Chandler’s classic detective novels, starring Clive Owen and directed by Frank Miller, minor deity of all things noir?

This….could be good.

Thank goodness for IMDB: I was linking to British director Gurinder Chadha last night and saw that she’s signed up to direct an adaptation of Louise Rennison’s totally hilarious young-adult novel Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging. ATFFS–as we insiders call it–is the kind of book that could easily lose its soul in the Hollywood grindhouse; it’s a smart, funny look at adolescent girlhood, and we at CH are a little afraid that it might get the Nancy Drew blandification treatment. It’ll take a strong, genuine voice to keep the story and the humor on track. But Chadha, who has won our undying love and respect with the climax sequence of Bend It Like Beckham, is surely the right woman for the job.

Plus, she’ll teach you to make aloo ghobi if you watch her DVD. We can’t argue with that.

I’ve been watching Pride and Prejudice this week. It’s part of my Keira Knightley film festival, but I’ve gotten stuck. You see, I have Domino sitting next to the DVD player, ready to go. But have I moved on? I have not.

And I need to confess something: when the movie came out–a mere two years ago!–I was a Pride and Prejudice snob. I had, along with many others, attached myself to the Mother of All Pride and Prejudice Adaptations, the six-hour BBC miniseries that launched a thousand Colin Firth wet-shirt fantasies. After all, how could they re-adapt the great Pride and Prejudice? After less than a decade? Who would have the gall to follow that stunning, encyclopedic act?

But what I’ve found is that, for better or for worse, I have a hard time saying no to Elizabeth Bennet, her embarrassing family, and her emotional duel/love affair with Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. The 2005 version isn’t the most complete, and it’s not the most serious, but it hits all the high points (with some glorious cinematography, I might add), and somehow that seems to be all I need. And so, for all of the P&P fans and P&P fans-to-be, I present a comprehensive history of Pride and Prejudice on film.

Pride and Prejudice (1938): The original Austen mini-series, adapted even before the big-screen crowd got a hold of it. Starring a woman called Curigwen, who was surely destined for great fame until her parents stepped in and chose a name.

Pride and Prejudice (1940): Before there was Firth, there was Olivier, who can only have been fabulous opposite Greer Garson. Probably the only time Jane Austen and Aldous Huxley share writing credit on anything.

Pride and Prejudice (1952): Of absolutely no note except that Mr. Darcy is played by the utterly fantastic Peter Cushing! I had no idea! Imagine: Grand Moff Tarken, being an ardent admirer! The mind, it boggles! So many exclamation points! But worth every one of them!

Pride and Prejudice (1958) and (1967): Probably fine adaptations, but lacking in weird, famous screenwriters or any kind of famous cast. The age of the mini-series before HBO, apparently.

Pride and Prejudice (1980): The predecessor to the current BBC version. There’s not a single recognizable name (or photographic IMDB entry) in the cast, but I know at least one person who loves this version. Worth a look, ostensibly.

Pride and Prejudice (1995): I think we all know how I feel about this one. Need I go on?

And then there are the P&P knock-offs: the references, the similar-tos, and the updated versions.

Bridget Jones’s Diary: Wherein The Firth reprises his role and gets into the best nerd-brawl ever to grace the big screen, and Mr. Wickham is a tangerine-tinted buffoon. Highly recommended.

Pride and Prejudice (2003): How did I miss this the first time around? (Not to be snotty, or anything, but: Good sense, perhaps?) Pride and Prejudice in present-day America. Hmmm.

Bride and Prejudice: The Bennets go Bollywood! This one hasn’t made its way to CHHQ yet, but it’s apparently pretty good. And Sayid from LOST (Naveen Andrews) plays Mr. Bingley, so how bad can it be? Also, random appearances by Ashanti–the mark of a fine film, I always say–and Alexis Bledel as Georgiana Darcy. Oh! And Gurinder Chadha directed, and she’s all-around excellent. So good things all around.

That’s all. If you need me, I’ll be on the couch, waiting for the big rejection scene. PAIN!