Over the past couple of years, I've confessed to a number of embarrassing things on this blog, but nothing compared to this: although my memories on the morning after are a bit fuzzy, and only a jumble of images and vague sensory impressions remain, I have the sinking feeling that I may actually have enjoyed New York Minute.

I know, I know. Hear me out.

At least, I was impressed that they cared enough to make a slick, professional production, unlike the unwatchable Win a Date with Tad Hamilton! Is it vaguely condescending? Sure. But it's condescending in its assumption that its audience only wants bright colors, fast cuts, a cheery pop soundtrack, and a cartoonish string of implausible events featuring the Olsen twins. Believe me, there are far worse ways of spending eighty minutes in a movie theater. (The second half of The Passion comes to mind.) This is much preferable to condescension on the order of Tad Hamilton, which assumes that the audience is too benumbed to want anything more than a pabulum, with extra syrup.

Haiwen was less impressed, I think. Of course, he was only in the audience as a representative of the Chinese-American Anti-Defamation League. (When I asked him if he liked New York Minute more than Van Helsing, which he'd seen on a school field trip earlier that day, he said, "Well, there were more Chinese people...")

By the way, the big screen makes one thing very clear: the Olsen twins are fraternal, not identical. And Ashley is much more, um, huggable than Mary-Kate. (Can I even say this before June 13?)