This has to be the person who tells Sandra Bullock "Honey, you really have to do this script."
I mean, let's face it. She has been sold a bill of goods on practically every movie she has made over the past seven years. Miss Congeniality 1 and 2, Murder by Numbers, The Lake House, Speed 2, Hope Floats. Now we find ourselves in the middle of the opening weekend for Premonition. I have one, too. This movie won't do well.
But, in a sincere effort to see if my perception is a reality, I sidled myself over to Variety.com and I called up reviews for the last dozen pictures Sandra Bullock has made. I went back almost as far as While You Are Sleeping, but avoided that one specifically because no male would ever voluntarily consider it for anything.
It is amazing what I found. Virtually every review was a negative. It was like an explosion at the "Synonyms for Mediocrity" store.
Predictable.
Run-of-the-mill.
Pedestrian
Far-fetched.
Banal.
Confusing.
Lousy.
Preposterous.
(and my personal favorite) Still born.
Try this exercise yourself and you will be amazed. Even more astounding is that most of these movies list Sandra as an executive producer, which means she has a piece of the non-action.
I did not include Crash in my informal survey, since she was truly part of an ensemble cast and was on screen for about 48 seconds. Admittedly, her role as a rascist who falls down a flight of stairs was probably not a stretch. Don't misunderstand. I am saying it was not challenging for her. I am not implying that Sandra Bullock is either a rascist or clumsy.
Admittedly, this is not the worst sin in Hollywood. Will Ferrell's success has that top honor. But, if you were Sandra Bullock, wouldn't you be cutting a severence check for her script reader right now?
Dinner last night: A college friend is in town on business and we went to Il Fornaio in Beverly Hills, primarily because they are offering some wine she is promoting. Had a pork chop drowning in kalmata olives. Zabaglione for dessert.
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