Martin Scorsese has used "Gimme Shelter" so many times in his movies that the song has become shorthand for him. You almost expected his Kundun monks to rock out on it, or for Newland Archer to play it on the harpsichord Daniel Day-Lewis spent six months learning how to use. If Scorsese's new film doesn't include it, it'll be him playing coy with our expectations. Shine a Light, Scorsese's latest musical documentary (after No Direction Home, his Dylan miniseries and The Last Waltz, his take on the Band), is a Rolling Stones concert film. Here's hoping that they don't project this in IMAX, as their prior IMAX concert film, 1991's At the Max, was terrifying. One should never be able to see that much detail on Keith Richards. He looked like an 8-story high Shar-Pei with a cigarette, and that was 17 years ago.

The Independent quotes Scorsese as asking "What can you do that's new backstage, that wasn't already shown in Gimme Shelter or Cocksucker Blues? The only thing left is the music, ultimately." This means no stabbing, no orgies, no trashed hotel rooms, and no drugs. It sounds like The Stones are opening for Hannah Montana.

At 64, you'd think Mick Jagger was old enough to handle an R-rated movie. He's made quite a few, like 1970's Performance, and even appeared in the NC-17 rated Bent. Look at that documentary title in Scorsese's quote, for Cripe's sake! Jagger can handle the R rating, but according to Shine a Light's distributors, Paramount (Disad)Vantage, we can't. At the MPAA's site and the imdb, the MPAA listing on the film reads: "Rated PG-13 for brief strong language, drug references and smoking. (edited for re-rating; originally rated R for some language)." Does this mean that there were no drug references and -- GASP! -- no smoking in the R-rated cut? They took out the cuss words, and put in Joe Camel! The bigger question is: Why would they edit the film down to a PG-13 anyway? How many 12-year-olds you know are clamoring to see men older than their great-grandparents sing about what a drag it is getting old?

The late Hal Ashby got a PG rating for his concert take on the Stones, Let's Spend the Night Together, but that was before they were being censored on the Super Bowl. I'm a little disappointed that the man who won an Oscar for turning human heads inside out consented to cutting a few cuss words out of his movie to get a lower rating. And who the hell cares about smoking in a rating? I'm surprised it's not NC-17 for cigarettes; Keith Richards is a damn human chimney.

A new cast member has been added to the roster of Cadillac Records. The new feature, written and helmed by Darnell Martin, details the rise of the Chess record label. I remember that label fondly, because it was stuck to my favorite 45 as a kid, "My Ding-a-Ling" by Chuck Berry. Prior to this, Martin, a Spike Lee protege, directed I Like It Like That, the first movie directed by an African-American female to be financed by a major studio. That same studio, Sony/Columbia, is releasing her latest. Playing Leonard Chess, the owner of Chess Records, is Oscar winner Adrien Brody. Muddy Waters is being assayed by Tony- and Emmy-winner Jeffrey Wright, and the too-sexy-to-be-real Gabrielle Union plays Wright's girlfriend. According to The Hollywood Reporter, rapper/actor Mos Def is now rounding out the ensemble as Mr. Berry in the Chicago set film. Unlike his turn as Ford Prefect in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (which I enjoyed, dare I say), this is perfect casting. As evidenced by his fantastic turn in Something the Lord Made, Mos Def has turned into a fine actor. He looks a bit like Berry, and he can sing too, so this might be his opportunity to out-Ray Jamie Foxx. All he has to do is grab a guitar and ask Maybelline why she can't be true.

Speaking of things that can't be true, Beyonce is playing Etta James in this movie. I admit that Ms. Knowles is bootylicious, has singing talent to spare, and has diva presence galore. What she doesn't have is acting talent. She doesn't sound like James, but they can easily fix that by having her lip-synch if she can't match the vocals herself. They can't rotoscope her over a better actress, though, so will she be the weak link in the ensemble?

Knowles is also executive producing, which means if the film is superb, she might be able to get back at the Academy for snubbing her writing credit for the Dreamgirls song, Listen. If the film's a hit, Mos Def can play another Chicago-based singer who was into women and peeing: R. Kelly.

Red band (restricted audience) trailers are making a comeback. According to the Hollywood Reporter, Regal Cinemas has decided to allow red band trailers to be displayed before R and NC-17 rated movies. Red band trailers allow all the sex, violence, and smut talk that the usual green band (all audiences) trailers don't allow. They were "banned" because movie theaters were afraid a red-band trailer would find its way before a G-rated movie, traumatizing the toddlers who actually wanted to see Hostel anyway. Without a trailer that could capture the essence or the audience for certain R-rated features, movie studios had to cut green band trailers or resort to the Internet to peddle their uncensored wares. For a while, most chose to cut clean trailers, but a lot of them had dirty material the MPAA either allowed or missed.

I once saw a raunchy green band trailer for John Waters' NC-17 rated A Dirty Shame, which played before a PG-rated movie. "The following preview is approved for all audiences," said the familiar green screen. "The movie being advertised is rated NC-17 for pervasive sexuality." I said "WHAT THE?!" My then 8-year old niece asked "Uncle Odie, what's pervasive sexuality?" I told her to ask her mother. She had a lot to ask her mother; Tracie Ullman picks up a bottle with her womanly features in that trailer. What traffic cop at the MPAA thought the ol' snatchin' up the bottle trick was approved for all audiences?

Now that the restricted audience trailers are back, the question arises: Are they giving too much away? Showgirls' red-band trailer famously showed so much nudity that it made seeing the film completely irrelevant. Why bother going to see the movie if they're giving you the good stuff already? Since I'm nowhere near a Regal theater, I went to the websites of Harold and Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and The Ruins to see their naughtier trailers.

Harold and Kumar's trailer gives away some amusing lines, has some female nudity that gets covered up with superimposed White Castles, and shows more footage than the green band trailer of Neil Patrick Harris pretending to be straight. Forgetting Sarah Marshall's restricted trailer isn't much different than its regular trailer (the dirtiest verbal joke is in both versions), but should satisfy fans who want to see ridiculously acrobatic, comedic sex and Jason Siegel's bare ass without paying $12. And The Ruins -- well you just have to see how these people heard it through the grapevine.

Check them out and decide if they give too much away as opposed to their standard trailers. I think one of them does.

While watching the Nickelodeon Kids Choice Awards, I had a crazy idea. What if, instead of having Bill Conti (or Tom Conti, as Julia Roberts famously called him) rudely play people off when they take too long at the Oscars, why not have the winner get slimed instead?

Winner: Well, first of all, I'd like to thank the Academy for this fine honor. I am in good company with my fellow Oscar nominees Meryl Streep, Lindsay Lohan, the CGI ghost of Bette Davis and the I Got A Crush on Obama girl. I'd also like to thank Harvey Weinstein for threatening to torture and dismember any Academy voter who didn't vote for our film. You know, I started out in this business as a...it says wrap it up...OK! I started out in this business as a human casting couch, and now I've risen to the upper echelon of my profess--

SPLAT!!!! (Slime covers winner completely.)

Imagine how great that would be! People would have to go to the press interview room with their expensive outfits congealed with green goop. Since that stuff is probably corrosive, the winner's Oscar would melt or turn green like cheap gold jewelry. After each sliming, the orchestra plays Jean Knight's "The Clean Up Woman" while the Oscar girl comes out with a mop and bucket to clean up the mess during a commercial break.

The Academy can also slime people whose outfit looks like their grandmother's curtains, or the host every time he's not funny (Jon Stewart would have drowned. Bob Hope would have too). Fashion designers would weep, because I'm sure that stuff doesn't come out of expensive clothing. After the show, I envision some poor soul hunched over with a toothbrush at Harry Winston's, trying to scrape that green shit off the rented diamonds.

Sliming might not speed up the show, but it would make it a helluva lot more fun to watch. As for the kids at the Kids Choice Awards, they made some oddball picks, choosing Jessica Alba as best movie actress, Alvin and the Chipmunks as best picture, and Johnny Depp as best movie actor. Kids like Sondheim? Who knew?

Neither spoofed superheroes nor a nosy elephant could keep 21 from beating the box office house and emerging as the top movie for the weekend of March 28-30. According to Box Office Mojo, the Sony picture directed by the man responsible for J.Lo vs. J.Fo and Legally Blonde took in $28.7 million. For the gamblers in the house, that's 57,400 purple chips. Unmarred by bad reviews, 21 eked out a victory by drawing off viewers from other PG-13 rated fare like Superhero Movie, which placed third with $9.5 million, way below expectations for Sony's sister studio MGM. Superhero Movie follows Date Movie, Epic Movie, Scary Movie I-IV (which Superhero's director had a part in), Not Another Teen Movie, and Meet the Spartans...movie. I'm holding out for Porn Movie.

Last week's box office topper, Horton Hears A Who, placed second with $17.4 million in grosses, pushing it over the treasured $100 million mark and guaranteeing us a sequel in which Jim Carrey's Horton and Steve Carrell's Who go to a concert featuring Roger Daltrey and Pete Townsend. Horton Hears The Who will be this generation's Yellow Submarine.

If you thought that was a bad joke, at least it wasn't told by Madea. Tyler Perry's Meet the Browns dropped from second to fourth place, taking in $7.8 million. Despite the 61% drop in ticket sales, Perry's latest still managed to do better than the other movies that opened this week. Stop-Loss, the Iraq war movie produced by MTV Films and heavily promoted on that network, couldn't stop its losses. It opened in eighth place with a $4.5 million take, which is still better than most of the Iraq-themed movies that have come out in the past 12 months. This week's other big release, Run, Fatboy, Run, didn't take its titular advice, collapsing three places below the top 10 with a measly $2.4 million. Score: Box Office: 1, Pudgy Naked Englishmen With Jungle Fever: 0.

Shutter, the latest remake of an Asian horror film (this time Thailand got plagiarized), dropped to sixth place behind the Owen Wilson-Judd Apatow teen comedy Drillbit Taylor. 10,000 BC continued its flop-a-licious descent to seventh place, pulling in $4.9 million. The movie's title wants to invoke memories of One Million B.C. and the furry Raquel Welch contained therein, but its $84 million take is way below its $105 million price tag. And rounding out the top ten are College Road Trip in ninth place and The Bank Job in tenth.

The tally:
1. 21, $23.7 million
2. Dr. Seuss' Horton Hears a Who!, $17.4 million
3. Superhero Movie, $9.5 million
4. Tyler Perry's Meet the Browns, $7.8 million
5. Drillbit Taylor, $5.8 million
6. Shutter, $5.3 million
7. 10,000 B.C., $4.9 million
8. Stop-Loss, $4.5 million
9. College Road Trip, $3.5 million
10. The Bank Job, $2.8 million

The always amusing Oliver Stone has rounded out more of the cast for his film W, telling the story of President Bush's formative years. Since that is the time period, the casting of Josh Brolin as Dubya and Elizabeth Banks as Laura makes more sense. To play the elder Bushes, Stone has picked James Cromwell as George H.W. and Ellen Burstyn as Barbara. Who knows what Stone has up his sleeve, but it could turn out well. I liked his Nixon, especially Anthony Hopkins's performance since Hopkins, like Philip Baker Hall in Robert Altman's great Secret Honor, didn't try to do an imitation and ended up being more successful at capturing Tricky Dick's essence. Too often, of late, mimicry has been substituted for actual acting (I'm looking in your general direction, Marion Cotillard). Still, I am disappointed that Stone isn't planning to cover the past seven years of Dubya's administration, because I have an off-the-wall casting suggestion for Dick Cheney: Larry David. Really, David's version of himself on Curb Your Enthusiasm resembles Cheney in the way his intentions usually result in chaos, though at least Larry's heart is usually in the right place. Besides, Stone usually provides lots of laughs, at least when he's not trying to be funny (take Natural Born Killers -- please). I know that many would argue that there is nothing to laugh about concerning the missions accomplished and not accomplished by the Bush administration. Still, I have to paraphrase Albert Brooks's line in Broadcast News after his disastrous stint hosting the weekend news: At some point, the Bush administration got so off-the-chart bad, it just got funny.

As you went out to 10,000 B.C. and watched our more hirsute ancestors scrounge for food, who didn't imagine dining on something raw at the same time? Well, a group of investors hope to make your dreams come true. According to an article in Variety by Marc Graser, Village Roadshow Ltd., Act III, Lambert Entertainment and the Retirement Systems of Alabama pension fund (Yes, you read that correctly. Pity Alabama retirees now) are teaming to bring luxury movie theaters to the United States. The business plan is to build 50 theaters across the U.S. offering moviegoers the chance to pony up $35 for a ticket to College Road Trip. Of course, there are perks. Graser's article says, "Each complex will sport theaters featuring 40 reclining armchair seats with footrests...as well as a lounge and bar serving cocktails and appetizers, a concierge service and valet parking...the circuit will especially push its culinary offerings -- made-to-order meals like sushi and other theater-friendly foods from on-site chefs (a service button at each seat calls a waiter). Moviegoers will have to pay extra for any food they order, however." I bet you thought movie audiences were obnoxious now, treating theaters as if they were in their living rooms, chatting on cell phones and being generally annoying. Imagine how they will act if they spend that much for a movie and then a waiter gets the order wrong! Unfortunately, there is no mention of my most long-sought after theater goodie: ushers with stun guns to shut these idiots up so I can enjoy my movie in peace. Maybe these "luxury" seats would be something I'd go for - provided they come with a cone of silence like on Get Smart.

Where, oh where has John Hughes gone? This is what Patrick Goldstein asked in his March 24 Los Angeles Times column. Apparently, the writer-director has come to resemble another famous Hughes (Howard) in his reclusive life somewhere outside Chicago. The man identified with the teen films of the 1980s and the "let's hit burglars in the balls" trend of the 1990s still maintains a powerful following among Hollywood's younger filmmakers. "He's our generation's J.D. Salinger," writer-director Kevin Smith told Goldstein. "Basically my stuff is just John Hughes films with four-letter words." Now I like Smith a lot and have enjoyed more of his films than I haven't, but has he watched some of Hughes' works since he was a teen? Sixteen Candles is the only one that stands the test of time. I dare anyone who loved The Breakfast Club in their youth to watch it now and not come out of it on Paul Gleason's side. (Judd Nelson alone makes you root for corporal punishment.) Hughes' absence has led people to see his work only through nostalgia's rose-colored specs and to forget how he eventually recycled bits and plots in film after film after film. Home Alone begat Baby's Day Out (because nothing is funnier than watching a baby in jeopardy as long as you get to see Joe Pantoliano stomping on Joe Mantegna's burning crotch at the same time. Come to think of it, it's a more violent act than anything Joey Pants did on The Sopranos). He could also merge the farce of Home Alone with the low-rent Albee truth games of The Breakfast Club and come up with Career Opportunities, memorable only for Jennifer Connelly riding a department store rocking horse. Smith, Judd Apatow and others shouldn't sell themselves short: Their best is light years better than anything Hughes ever did.

Dealing with talent in Hollywood can be an eye-opening experience, especially for a renowned French director such as Bertrand Tavernier venturing into the strange world of U.S. filmmaking and the even more bizarre work environment that comes with hiring Tommy Lee Jones. The Oscar-winning actor is a gifted performer to be sure, but to say his reputation is prickly is an understatement. I witnessed first-hand one incident and heard from another entertainment reporter of another instance where Jones reduced a reporter to tears. (In fact, at a roundtable interview with the actor I sat at years ago, the reporters decided ahead of time who would knock him unconscious with one of the Perrier bottles if Jones got out of hand.) Tavernier's In the Electric Mist also co-stars John Goodman, Ned Beatty and Mary Steenburgen, but Tavernier tried to refrain from talking details about Jones during an interview with Geoffrey McNabb yesterday in The Guardian. Apparently, Jones won't do what Tavernier has made a semi-trademark in his films. Was it something startling such as full-frontal nudity? A strange or unseemly sex act? No. Tommy Lee Jones doesn't like to be filmed eating on camera. "Tommy Lee Jones is one of the greatest actors I have seen or worked with. He is very intelligent and educated. When you say 'Action!' he is great," Tavernier told McNabb, who asked about what Jones was like when the camera was off. Tavernier paused. "It varies," he said before pausing again. "Let's say that I love Philippe Noiret."

Oscar-winning makeup man Rick Baker made Eddie Murphy look like a reasonably credible old Jewish man in Coming to America. Ben Stiller and company could have used his help on Tropic Thunder, the movie that reveals to the world that Robert Downey Jr. is not only a Black man, but one that couldn't have been created by the same God that gave me my permanent tan. In stills, Downey looks so unconvincing that he makes Al Jolson look like Wesley Snipes. I suppose Downey won't get the part if they remake Black Like Me. At least Downey's blackface is in service to Tropic Thunder's plot. During the studio system's heyday, White actors and actresses were constantly attempting to pass for something they were not. Remember Swede Warner Oland as Charlie Chan, Gale Sondergaard as evil Dragon Lady in Bette Davis's The Letter, and any number of white actresses playing tragic mulattoes? How about Elvis as an Indian or Mickey Rooney as an Asian? It seems like this trend is coming back in a way, though not with Tropic Thunder. 21 opens this week and the ads tell you it's "based on a true story and the novel Bringing Down the House. 21's casting, however, is as corrupt as the game show that bore its name back in the '50s. The protagonist of the novel is Asian, yet in the film, he has been recast as a white character played by Jim Sturgess. You may remember Sturgess from Across the Universe, the movie that made John Lennon spin in his grave like a propeller on crack. He played Jude, as in Hey, Jude, your movie's bad.

It's the filmmakers' right to change the race of their main character, but that should automatically cost them the "based on a true story yada yada yada." Denzel Washington and his filmmakers came under intense fire for The Hurricane and The Great Debaters for marketing those films as factually based though they had poetic license changes. Why aren't protesters bringing down the house over 21? Shouldn't we be holding Legally Blonde director Robert Luketic's feet to the fire for this, the way Washington's and Norman Jewison's were? If anything, Asians should be happy that Sturgess isn't playing the character as an Asian. After Breakfast at Tiffany's, anyone who attempts to do so should be shot anyway.

Over the last decade or so, people have been showing up in movies in which they don't belong. I'm not talking about casting boo-boos that stretch suspension of disbelief, like Denise Richards as a rocket scientist/Bond girl. I'm talking about R-rated people in G- and PG-rated movies. The current glut started in the mid 90's with Harvey Keitel in Monkey Trouble. Considering that Keitel spent the entire decade onscreen fully, frontally nude, a movie with a troublesome monkey in the title seemed perfect for him. However, Monkey Trouble was about an actual monkey, not Harvey's little bad lieutenant. The idea the title invoked was rated NC-17, but the MPAA bestowed a PG on the execution. Still, if a parent took a kid to see Harvey Keitel's Monkey Trouble, theater management should have called protective services.

Next, Eddie Murphy, a man so verbally dirty that he once did a routine on how much he cussed, showed up in Mulan, an animated Disney movie. He played a dragon, and the only "ass" that exited his mouth was the one attached to the naked guy his dragon character bit. Then Ed-DEE started talking to animals, and what he was saying to them was a whole lot cleaner than what he used to say to us. That movie, along with the Shrek series, has kept Murphy from returning to his R-rated roots. The upcoming Meet Dave appears to continue the tradition of keeping Murphy PG-13 and below.

It's been 11 years since Murphy uttered onscreen the word for which he is most famous, a word whose fame he shares with the current "what the hell is he doing in a kiddie movie" celebrity, Martin Lawrence. Lawrence recently had a minor hit with Disney's G-rated College Road Trip. This is the same man who advised putting Tic-Tacs in women's punanies, and whose mouth alone got You So Crazy rated NC-17. Now he's showing up in family-friendly movies like Open Season.

NWA's most wanted rapper, Ice Cube, has also followed this trend. First he was telling us how to, um, handle the police. Now he's falling through roofs and taking kids to amusement parks. Cube made Are We There Yet? and Are We Done Yet?; his former rap records appeared to predict he'd make "Are We Dead Yet?" and "Did You Come Yet?"

What next? Traci Lords voices an animated princess being wooed by Ron Jeremy's hedgehog prince? Formerly dirty comedians and actors in kiddie movies are akin to filming Cookie Monster giving Elmo a Princeton rub. But then again, even Norman Mailer wrote children's stories.

The overJesused folks who picketed The Golden Compass asked what would happen if their kids liked the movie and sought out the far more atheistic novel on which it was based. I ask what would happen if some parent sees Ice Cube on a CD cover at Target and brings home Death Certificate thinking the star of Are We There Yet is singing songs by Raffi.

Hindus are going after Mike Myers over his portrayal of the Guru Pitka in the upcoming movie The Love Guru, but comedy lovers should jump the line to kick Myers' ass. Judging by the trailer, this is an incredibly unfunny movie. The entire coming attraction plays the same riffs on earlier Myers material, some of which wasn't funny when he was dressed like a gay, British orthodontic nightmare. For example, the trailer replaces Fred Savage's mole gag from Austin Powers II with the exact same gag involving height instead of melanoma. There are the typical musical numbers, food jokes, and boner jokes, all using Bollywood to hide their familiarity. Jessica Alba shows up to talk about lesbianism, which would be hot if a) she were convincing, and b) Myers wouldn't have interrupted the audience's collective boner with a boner joke. Numerous times, Myers stares into the camera and grins, as if his obvious delight with himself should deafen us to the sounds of his jokes falling flat in THX.

From what I could deduce over the groans in the theater, Myers plays some kind of self-help mystic slash guru who has been paid $2 million to save the marriage of a Toronto Maple Leafs hockey player played by Romany Malco. Malco's wife has run off with Justin Timberlake, a man whose ghetto pass must be made of titanium. Alba plays the owner of the Leafs and Verne Troyer is their coach. So, we've got a Black guy posing as a hockey player, a White man posing as some kind of Indian mystic, a vertically challenged man as a hockey coach and Jessica Alba as the owner of anything besides a million teenage boys' fantasies. I'm all for color- and gender-blind casting, but this is like matching the giraffe Garanimals top with the hippo Garanimals bottoms. I'll eat my words if the movie's funny, but I don't expect to be that hungry.

Disney announced that it has hired Pirates of the Caribbean scribes Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio to write a remake of the Lone Ranger. The movie will be produced by Jerry Bruckheimer, and you know what that means: EXPLOSIONS AND RAMPANT COMMERCIALISM! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, shit will blow up real good. But that's not all! Get ready for Lone Ranger Happy Meals at McDonalds, complete with a mask in every box. Buy your ticket now to stand on line in Disney World for 5-1/2 hours to ride the Lone Ranger's Silver Simulation Ride. Be prepared for numerous sequels, all starring Johnny Depp. Depp will play Tonto as a cross between Keith Richards, Elton John and Chief Jay Strongbow. Bop your head to the William Tell Overture, remixed by Timbaland and sung by Christina Aguilerra going "da-da-dun! da-da-dun! da-da-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun..."

I can't see how they're going to make this work for today's audiences. The Lone Ranger was boring when I was a kid back in the Stone Age, and the movie they made in 1981 was so bad that Universal hired the Men in Black to erase it from people's memories. So how can they make such an old fashioned hero palatable for today's attention deficit disorder riddled crowd? I'm glad you asked because I have the perfect answer.

WEREWOLVES.

That's right, werewolves. The furry creatures that are usually men until the full moon makes them turn hairier than Robin Williams' torso. Here's my pitch: The Lone Ranger always used silver bullets and rode a horse named Silver. We update that by adding the monsters. Werewolves don't like silver bullets, so Tonto enlists The Lone Ranger to help kill this band of rogue werewolves. Indians know a lot about werewolves, as evidenced by another 1981 movie, Wolfen, so this isn't so far fetched. The Lone Ranger agrees to help because his entire band of rangers were eaten by werewolves at the beginning of the film. The Lone Ranger escapes the attack but his mask gets in his eyes while running. He subsequently falls off a cliff, only to be nursed back to health by Tonto.

Meanwhile, the band of werewolves, led by Kate Beckinsale and Benicio Del Toro, are looking for this map that will lead them to a treasure that will allow them to remain werewolves no matter what the moon looks like. It's up to Tonto and Kemo Sabe to save the day. I envision at the end, the Lone Ranger runs out of silver bullets and resorts to running over Del Toro with Silver the horse. Del Toro mutates into an impressively gory fireball simply because the horse is named Silver. Cue Christina over the credits.

Johnny Depp finally wins that Oscar for this movie too.

If any of this winds up in the movie, God help us. But if it does, you heard it here first.

Why is George Lucas lowering our expectations on "Indy 4: Attack of the Jones"? He's making me nervous with his Wes Craven-esque "It's only a movie" comments. I can't bring myself to believe that the new Indy movie sucks, but I was always told that when a girl's Mama tells you her daughter is bad news, you believed it. And you ran. Lucas hasn't gone so far as to say the movie is sub-par, but his ominous protestations against those who are really looking forward to May 22nd has the Internet buzzing. It looks as if Lucas is invoking the Odienator Pessimist Principle, which states the pessimist is never disappointed. If the audience vibrates in their chairs as if the screenings were in Sensurround, and then collectively pass out in orgasmic glee when the credits roll, Lucas will feel great that he was underestimated crowd reaction. However, if the movie is anything like those nightmares he recently tried to pass off as Star Wars movies, he can tell us he told us so beforehand.

Lucas didn't write nor direct Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull -- a good sign if there ever were one. Ford is fit as a fiddle and Karen Allen is back as tough cookie Marion. The trailer is as full of excitement as the poster is full of background images, and rumor has it the movie realistically deals with Indy's age. Why shouldn't I be excited? I mean, what could possibly go wrong? What could Lucas be telling us between the lines of his statement? My imagination runs wild. Is Indy now being chased by a gigantic blue boulder that says Viagra? Does an uncredited Kate Capshaw shows up to pull the hearts out of the audience in the 3-D IMAX version. Could it be that Sean Connery shows up riding the giant head from Zardoz? Or that Cate Blanchett's villain turns out to be Bob Dylan dressed as Queen Elizabeth and screwing a 15-year old boy? Or that horror of horrors: Indy's sidekick is Jar-Jar Binks?

Lucas has tempered my excitement, but he's piqued my interest even more. This was probably the Emperor's evil plan all along.