Yesterday I actually went to see Win a Date with Tad Hamilton!, a romantic comedy so predictable that, according to Tamara, even Steve found it somewhat insipid. I saw this with a good friend of mine who, on a weekend when The Triplets of Belleville, Monster, Cold Mountain, In America, and other worthy movies I haven't seen are playing in Manhattan, forced me to choose between Tad Hamilton and The Butterfly Effect. (When I related this Hobson's choice to another friend at work, her only response was, "Alec, this girl had better be beautiful!" I assured her that this was, indeed, the case.)

Anyway, I chose Tad Hamilton, if only because reviews have been universally horrible for The Butterfly Effect, which looks like a dumber version of that wonderful Simpsons episode where Homer accidentally goes back in time and squishes a mosquito, leading to all sorts of unexpected consequences in the present. (My favorite: "Don't you remember, Dad? Flanders is the unquestioned lord and master of the world!" "D'oh!") Having chosen Tad Hamilton, I arrived at the theater a few minutes late, forcing me to actually buy a single ticket to this movie and go inside, in hopes that my friend was already in the theater waiting for me. (She was.) As I explained to her afterwards, this may have been the greatest leap of faith I've ever made for anyone.

In any case, Tad Hamilton reminded me of what I've been missing by only going to see movies that I expect to like: a roomful of audience members desperate to have a good time, clinging to any shred of entertainment, any bleak moment of humor, that the movie manages to provide. (I haven't felt such desperation in an audience since I saw The Hulk.) But Topher Grace is just great, as always. He could play me. And the really sad thing is that if I were to cast him as myself in the movie of my life right now, it would still be a more interesting role than the stuff he's apparently being offered these days.