I've finally figured out the key to enjoying this season of Project Runway: stop looking at it as a reality competition, and start seeing it as a sitcom. Because half the shit that went down that runway last night was HILARIOUS. It hurts my heart to think that Blayne, the 23-year-old tanning addict who has never heard of The Beatles, actually exists in real life. But if I think of him as a fictional, wacky next-door-neighbor, complete with his own cliched catch phrases ("Holla at your boy!" "-licious!") I can deal with him, like Jack on "Will & Grace." Same with Suede. Same with Stella. Hell, same with most of the walking cartoons they cast this season.

So if you're looking for laughs, that runway show was a triumph. The bottom three was AMAZING. On the hand, you've got the product of Jerrell's personal fashion meth lab, which worked best if you started at the bottom and panned up past all the layers of ruffles and patterns and bonnets. Goodness! I turned to my friend and said, "Paging Miss Muffet; you have a call on Line 3. It's the spider, calling regarding your curds and whey." Then you have Daniel's Giant Purple People Eater, representing the Republic of Cocktail Land in the sport of Competitive Drinking (TM Michael Kors; worth his weight in gold last night). Look, I'm not big into sports. But I could at least tell you that was in no way appropriate for an Olympics ensemble. (What was with all the throwback looks, anyway? I can't get my mind around that at ALL.) Daniel seems absolutely enchanted with his own abilities, but...yikes. The purple/blue debate was pretty giggle-worthy too. And thank god Captain Frumpy McFrumpster and her Frumptastic Voyage are finally done. Don't sell me surrealism if what you're giving me are designs straight out of the Sears-Roebuck Junior Miss Catalogue from 1952. Goodbye, Dali!

As for the top three, I think Kato was the best choice of the three. (Even though LeAnne had the best design overall -- modern, interesting, undeniably American. I have fully embraced LeAnne to my bosom.) I've decided that I don't care for Kato as a person -- "self-righteous" and "pill" come to mind when describing her -- and she's incredibly inconsistent as a designer. But she's clearly in this for the long haul. I had liked Joe going into this challenge, but sorry, he lost me with that "queens" comment. I'm fairly sure he didn't mean it to sound as heterosexist as it did, but...that's what it sounded like. Dude, you're in the fashion industry. Take a memo. I liked his work (although skorts? And "USA" down the side?), but it was indeed too literal. I continue to be mystified over the Terri love. Yeah, she can bang out pieces right quick, but it all looks like it's falling apart. Fast doesn't mean anything if it's made like shit.

Can we as a country be done with Apolo Ohno now?

Think that's it for now. At this point, I can't wait until next Wednesday's installment of my new favorite TV comedy, "Leaving Me in Stitches." What will that wacky Blayne say next?!

You know, I expected this season of "Project Runway" to be sloppy and rushed. But I really didn't expect it to be so absolutely devoid of talent as it has revealed itself to be. Yes, there are a few diamonds in the rough -- Kelli is pretty awesome, and could stand toe-to-toe with Christian or Daniel V -- but the rest? Last night's fashion show just drove home how very far we are from the talent peak of Season 4.

Fully 2/3 of the stuff that came down that runway was garbage. Blayne? Looked almost exactly like the dress that got eliminated, yet not even a ding. Daniel? Seen it before, and it was sloppily executed (he is SLOOOOOW).Korto? Boring, had  nothing to do with the assignment. Stella? Looked good, but she's a one-trick pony (appropriate, given her leather fetish). Suede? Hideous Girl Scout retread that bore no resemblance to his photo.

And then we have the judging. I understand that it's all very subjective. I understand that what I find ugly other people might think is impossibly chic. But how, in the name of Hermes, did we end up with that Top 3 last night? LeAnne, definitely -- that was very cool, very wearable, and a huge step up from last week's over-designed disaster. But LeAnne was LeRobbed, because Kenley's look was right out of a Cyndi Lauper video circa 1984. Who would wear that? Who would want to with that organza goiter? WHAT DID IT HAVE TO DO WITH HER PHOTO? I believe that her rationale was that she wanted something "painterly." But it was a mosaic! Jesus Christ!

But you know what? At least it was well made. Instead, I give to you Terri's disaster frock, which would look totally at home on the racks of Wal-Mart right now. Ugly print. Terrible fit. Sloppily made. Dress over pants? Welcome back to 2002. What a joke that this made Top 3 over Kelli's total package, Joe's very fashionable take on his inspiration photo, or Jerrell's sumptuous (though admittedly over-the-top) tango dress. I am agog.

As for the bottom three, I agree that Keith's dress was fairly unimpressive, and he deserved the ding. I like Keith, but I don't think he's long for this competition. He seems to think of himself as some fashion maverick, but so far his work has been overwhelmingly pedestrian. Emily's dress was blah, and her overly literal interpretation of neon just screamed "continent of Africa!" to me. But I think it's bogus that she was in the bottom three for a dress that was virtually identical to Blayne's, and not a word was said. The ruffle placement was different, but the concept and execution was otherwise almost the same.

Still, she shouldn't have gotten the boot over Jennifer's dress. What. The Hell? That looked like it was out of some costume shop; a mid-play outfit for Marion the Librarian from "Music Man." Not a single good thing to say about it, and she's boring as all get-out too. How does a design that bad skate through? Heidi literally said she had no interest to see anything else form that designer, and yet here she still is. GAH! Madness.

I will say that I'm glad at least one of the Mousy Brunette Brigade has been sent home. That just leaves us with LeAnne, Jennifer, and Kenley (who, admittedly, has set herself apart with her whole 1940s broad thing).

I'm going to keep watching, but I have friends saying, "Why am I watching this? I hate the personalities of most of these designers (SUEDE, BLAYNE, JERRELL) and their clothes are atrocious." I have a hard time arguing the opposite point. I get that they needed to bang this season out for contractual purposes, but ultimately its lack of quality is just going to hurt both Bravo AND Runway (Runway the most, though; good luck convincing your audience that you're still chic and fashion-forward after this mess, especially since you're now on LIFETIME, aka Television for Women who Wear Caftans). Bad times, man. Bad times....

Last night's "So You Think You Can Dance" had a shocking elimination: Will, often talked up by the judges as the best dancer on the show in ANY season, is history.

Oh, and Comfort went home again, for the second time. Thanks, Comfort! You were kind of fun! But woefully out of your element!

While Comfort's boot was all but a sure thing, I also thought her partner on Wednesday, Mark, would be joining her in the former reality TV star unemployment line. Not so - he didn't even land in the Bottom 2. And that's where I start to call shenanigans.

Remember "American Idol" Season 3? It was the show's least talented season (up until this last one, at least). For proof look at Jasmine Trias, who ended up in third place. Jasmine was a pretty, seemingly sweet girl who somehow kept getting pushed through each week despite weak vocals. More talented singers - like Jennifer Hudson and LaToya London - got axed while she kept on going. Then the conspiracy theory emerged: the Hawaii vote.

While the three time zones that make up the continental United States are home to millions of people all fighting to get through the phone lines to vote for shows like "AI" and "Dance," Hawaii is off by its lonesome. Its relatively small population has unfettered access to the phone lines, meaning that while you keep getting busy signals while trying to vote for your favorite dancers/singers, the people of Hawaii are a lot more likely to get right through.

Guess who's from Hawaii? Mark.

This is, of course, just a theory. Mark could have legitimately scored enough votes to put him higher than both William and Twitch (his partner in the Bottom 2; more on him in a minute). He may have gotten the sympathy vote after being brutalized by the judges Wednesday night.

It's all possible. But not probable. I have a very hard time buying that Mark is the second-most popular male dancer on this show. And if he somehow makes it to the finals with his bizarre, useless solos, I'll be annoyed.

Just like how annoyed I am by Nigel and Co.'s continued over-hyping of Twitch. Last night after Will wrapped his solo (which I totally don't think he had planned out; I think he was blindsided by his ouster), Nigel opined that he was shocked that both Will and Twitch were in the bottom, since they were the strongest male dancers Wednesday night. Nigel? Allow me to introduce to Joshua, who is f'ing amazing and performed two VERY difficult routines Wednesday night nearly perfectly. (Yes, he was clearly exhausted during that disco routine, but Jesus, he'd danced THREE TIMES by that point.) Meanwhile, Twitch performed well, but I don't think either of those routines held a candle to the difficulty Joshua was pulling off.

Nigel has been licking Twitch's ass all season long, and I'm really, truly sick of it. HE'S NOT THAT GOOD. I'm sure he's a nice guy, but there have been better hip-hop dancers on this show since Season 1, and EVERY WEEK we're told how amazing he is, to the point that judges have actually gotten up and bowed for the man. Would they do that for any other contestant? HAVE they done that for any other contestant? I have yet to be impressed by a Twitch solo. It's nothing I haven't seen a hundred, a thousand times over in the audition episodes of this show.

Last night, when being told he was in the bottom, Twitch completely spazzed, and ran to the corner of the stage, crumpled into a ball, and cradled his head in his hands. Are you kidding me?! This is what we call a desperate plea for attention. After that little stunt he practically has thing sewed up, as you know the dimwits at home are all going to be, "Poor Twitch! He's so sad! I need to vote for him." Drama. Queen. If any other dancer pulled that America would have rolled its eyes, but because it's Darling Twitch, that totally fake emotional outburst is going to be lauded and used as an excuse to push him to the win. Bull shit.

Out of the remaining dancers, this should go to Joshua, Chelsie, or Courtney, who have all been awesome all season long. But they won't win. Now that similarly preordained Will is out of his way, this all belongs to Twitch, and I'll be curious to see if Nigel can look any of the other dancers in the eye afterward since he's been orchestrating this since the very first Top 20 performance night. Garbage.

Missed Wednesday's debut of Season 5 so I could catch a preview of "The Dark Knight" (go see it, love it, but bring food and water because you will need it to survive -- flick is LONG, and it feels even longer). I was able to catch a repeat last night, even though I was dreading it. Normally I LOVE Project Runway. I covet it. It's right up there with Amazing Race and Top Model as my favorite reality shows. But given all of the behind-the-scenes drama going into this season, I was not happy. For those not in the know, PR5 will be its final season on Bravo before jumping ship to Lifetime. LIFETIME. That network that airs made-for-TV movies starring Meredith Baxter and Golden Girls re-runs (and I believe Blanche and Co. are leaving the network soon, too). The move comes from PR producer Harvey Weinstein throwing his considerable weight around, and alleging that Bravo was taking all the credit for the series' success without paying the show what it's worth. NBC (Bravo's parent company) is currently suing for breach of contract (or something), but it looks like the Lifetime jump will happen for a new season this fall. That has sparked a number of other changes: Season 5 was rushed into production (by mid-June they were only filming the eighth episode of roughly 12 or 13); Season 6 will be partially filmed in LA; judge Nina Garcia has been dismissed from Elle and landed at Marie Claire (oh, Nina...), and have I mentioned LIFETIME? I mean, sheesh, even Oxygen would be a better fit, unless S6 challenges will involve making it work with stirrup pants and caftans.

Anyway, finally caught the first episode. And just based off those 40-something minutes, this seems like a more personality-based season than S4's talent-based season (which was very light on drama, but big on outstanding work). There are quite a few characters in the mix. Unfortunately, most of them are annoying. I refuse to take a 38-year-old man who refers to himself -- in third person -- only as "Suede" seriously. Between his obsession with tanning (how I weep for my generation), his penchant for adding "-licious" to any word, and his dependence on crotched Depends, Blayne is an unmitigated disaster. I remain dubious as to Jerell's assertions that he was a model, because...no. And also: shut up. I kind of feel like I might actually like Stella if she stopped whining for five seconds. And I'm delighted that Jerry is gone. What a total doofus. And his outfit looked like axe-murderer nurse. Just a mess. (For a look at the dress, and all of the first episode's fashions, click here.)

Although it wasn't as bad as I feared, I still got a distinct slap-dash feeling from the proceedings thus far. The fact that they recycled a challenge from Season 1? (The very first, the Gristedes grocery store challenge where the designers could use only materials found in the market to make their garments.) This smacks of, We didn't have time to plan these out, so here you go. Tim and Heidi seem bored or exhausted, and you can't blame them; they just wrapped S4 in March, and this has to be a LOT of work. And I can't get past the deep, abiding fear that all of these people were castoffs from S4, people who were OK, but that didn't quite make the cut. You know what I mean?

That said, I did like the winning dress. Kelli shows a lot of potential; I was particularly impressed by the subtle, but critical, flourishes, like the gold push pins and spiral notebook binding. That was cool. I also liked Daniel's blue cup dress, which must have taken a ton of work to pull off. He seems like a Debbie Downer, but at least he's ambitious. I was surprised Joe's dress didn't make Top 3. I thought it looked cool and was really inventive, what with the rotini pasta-created design. I also liked Terri's crotcheted top, but thought her portfolio photos looked absolutely dreadful. I thought Korto's gown was beautiful, but a total cop-out on the point of the challenge, which was innovation. The veggie brooch was a decent save, but it still felt cheap to me. Much like Keith's win in the first S3 innovation challenge, where he made a similarly gorgeous dress out of either sheets or a chair covering. How is that innovative?

And that was the most frustrating part of all: these designers were SO LAZY with the tablecloths. I was very glad that Tim called them out on it (he's even more exasperated on his Bravo blog), but I hoped that the judges would have kicked some more ass. Talk about phoning it in. And they really had no excuse, either. This challenge had been done before! They should have known EXACTLY what the judges were looking for. A tablecloth folded daintily ain't it! To me it spoke to either a lack of talent or a lack of imagination on the part of the majority of these designers. They need some fear of God, or at least Michael Kors, put into 'em.

A couple other random thoughts: either Leanne or Jennifer (I honestly can't tell them apart) is the most boring person on a reality show, ever. Almost
creepily devoid of soul. Wesley needs to seriously rethink those shorts of his. Keith takes home season hottie by a landslide, followed only by Joe.
It's a really homely bunch up in this piece.

"No day but today!"

If I hear that phrase by one more mainstream I-only-like-"Rent"-because-I've-seen-the-movie poser, I am going to scream.

As a longtime musical theater enthusiast, I can say that the recent trend of Broadway musicals traveling to the big screen is bittersweet.

For one, I have to be fair and acknowledge that the exposure of musical theater to mainstream audiences does, in fact, elicit a wider appreciation for the genre, and therefore, is valuable to the theater community in general.

However, musical-movie watchers, know this: seeing the movie does not mean you know anything about the show. Or that you are entitled to say, "Like, oh my god, I looove ‘Hairspray!'"

When I do hear those proclamations, I need to work on the urge that bubbles up inside my fists.

"Chicago" was the first Broadway-to-Tinseltown movie I remember seeing. And you know what? I loved it.

But I had already seen it onstage. In New York. And owned the CD. I appreciated the theater art first, and cinematic art second.

A stream of musical movies followed its success: "Phantom of the Opera," "Rent," "Hairspray," the soon-to-hit-theaters "Mamma Mia," and many more.

You'd think the posing would be enough - but I have another complaint.

When musicals go to the main screen, they pull some big stars with them into the spotlight - big movie stars.

And the problem? What about those hard-working individuals who live paycheck-to-paycheck waiting tables to live out their passion for theater?

What about even those famous Broadway stars, such as Sutton Foster, who own the original Broadway casts of multiple productions and ultimately create their characters? (In Foster's case, "Thoroughly Modern Millie," "Little Women," and "The Drowsy Chaperone" all hung onto her for dear life.)

Whether a no-name actor trying to make it to the top, or a famous stage-star like Foster, why aren't these people getting the opportunity to trade up mediums to the screen?

I'm sorry, but Richard Gere in tap shoes and Emmy Rossum moving her lips to a computer-generated high note does not do musical theater justice.

"Rent" is, of course, an exception - and done extremely well, in my opinion. Most of the leads came straight from the original cast, including SOTA graduate Taye Diggs, Idina Menzel, Adam Paschal, Anthony Rapp, and Jesse L. Martin.

But it kills me when actors are taught how to sing for musical movies. That's why they have musical-theater performers - people who can act, sing, and dance, and do it in one shot, not 100!

Maybe my frustrations will go unheard. Or maybe, just maybe, movie producers will take a feather from the hat of "Rent" and cast real performers in musical theater roles.

Then again, Meryl Streep is playing the lead in "Mamma Mia."

Oh, well. 

During the Las Vegas episode last week, Nigel told the 200-plus dancers that had made it through the first round that if they weren't stars, they needed to get off the stage. So it's ironic that when this season's Top 20 took the stage for the first time last night, there was nary a star among the bunch.

Please understand, there are many fine dancers in this year's crop. But personality wise? There's no Benji, no Travis, no Lacey, no Pasha, no Dmitri, no Sabra, no Neil. Hell, there's not even a Dominic or a Danny. I get that it was their first time out, and many of them were likely suffering through pants-crapping bouts of fear. But very few of these dancers, if any, exhibited any real star quality. It's the lamest bunch we've had in the show's history.

The first couple of the evening, swing dancer Jamie and ballet dancer Rayven (and I will say, it's nice to see a ballerina on the show), were thrown a funky hip-hop number that they basically muddled through. It wasn't terrible, but it certainly wasn't strong, and they're going to have to work on hitting it harder if they make it past this week. Both are also desperately in need of a makeover.

Second couple Susie (the uber trashy salsa dancer/high school teacher from Miami) and Marquis (who I guess is a contemporary dancer) were surprisingly graceful during their waltz, but absolutely botched the number's big lift. Like, obviously fucked that shit up. I feel bad, because this is clearly one of the couples the judges intended as chaff, and since they were hobbled by ballroom the first week, there's almost zero chance that they won't be in the Bottom 3 (and I suspect Marquis at least will go home).

Kourtni and Matt were next, and quickly deemed The Dancing Giants due to their towering heights. Kourtni is one to watch, I think - I liked her in her initial audition, and she was sexy as hell in her 80's Mugler leather-bitch ensemble in this number - but Matt, to me, was barely present. She's magnetic, he's dullsville. A capable dancer, but no charisma. It was a fun Mandy Moore jazz number, and I want more from her this year.

Chelsea and Thayne are probably the gayest couple this show has ever seen. Thayne is just flaming, y'all, and needs to dial it down a couple notches, because his intense energy is making me feel bombarded. Chelsea is dragalicious, but I love it - she's got a body that won't quit, and it was ably showcased last night with a barely there purple feathery number. Chelsea was fantastic, writhing and kicking and shaking all over the floor. Thayne was passable, with a couple fun moments, although his constant, manic smile started to creep me out. But they didn't work well together at all. (Thayne at least demonstrated no connection to her.) That said, I think they'll improve, and could be very good.

Other Chelsie (the ballroom one; there are two Courtnies and two Chelseas this year - stop the madness, mothers of America) and contemporary dancer Mark pulled a Mia Michaels number, and Mia was not having Mark in rehearsals at all. I'm kind of surprised Mark's here; he's a very odd dancer, and I believe he's the one in Vegas whose solo consisted of removing his shirt and standing there. I don't think he'll sit well with America. But Chelsie is amazing and worked her ass off last night, in a number Mia described as "Tim Burton's wedding." It wasn't quite that creepy, but included a couple cool moves that Chelsie ultimately carried. I'd like to see her with another partner.

The awesomely named Kherington and the dangerously over-praised Twitch got stuck with a Tyce Diorio Broadway number, and I feel for them. Diorio is a hack, and while he occasionally comes up with a decent, interesting number, I'm much more frequently bored with his choreography - I said last night that I'd seen more inventive numbers on local theater stages. Kherington threw herself (and her be-feathered butt; bad costume choice) into the piece, but Twitch just seemed to be along for the ride. I do not get the Twitch love. He's a fine dancer and seemingly a nice guy, but we've had much better hip-hoppers on this show before, possibly even this season.

The also awesomely named Comfort (female hip-hopper) and bland Chris (who really must hit the gym: twig arms) danced a jive, and Comfort emerged as the most charming, engaging dancer of the bunch by throwing herself into the number completely. She wasn't great technically, but she made up for it in moxie. Chris danced strongly, but he is an awkward thing, let me tell you. Go Comfort!

The surprise of the night was the pairing of contemporary dancer Katee (one half of the most boring best friends in the world) and beefy Joshua (hip-hopper with contemporary training) in a hip-hop number inspired by the Iraq war. Cringe inducing, right? Wrong. New choreographers Napoleon and Tabitha (who also did the first number of the night) created a fantastic routine, and Katee and Joshua executed it perfectly, with emotion, strong popping, and some really amazing tricks thrown in (at one point, Joshua lifted himself off the floor to a full stand using one knee). Best of the night, and soft-spoken Joshua is a major threat.

Forgettable Jessica (contemporary) and William (also contemporary) wallowed through a dirge-ish tango. Terrible costuming (ascot! Bodice that made Jessica look 20 pounds heavier!) and repetitive, obnoxious music plus dispassionate, but technically proficient, dancing made for one of the most boring routines of the night. I hope they're in the bottom, if only so that William can go home and I can have my Debbie Allen back. (As revealed in Vegas, Debbie is William's mentor, and can't judge as long as he's there.)

The night wrapped with a disco featuring button-cute Courtney (contemporary) and hip-hopper Gev. Gev is so totally out of his league, y'all, and Courtney deserves a much better partner. For disco it lacked energy, and Gev seemed more preoccupied with keeping up than with showing any kind of charm. They were savaged by the judges, and kind of rightly so. They could be in trouble tonight too.

All in all, a fairly uninspiring group. By the time we get to the Top 10 or so I suspect we'll have a decent mix, but as of right now, it's the least exciting crop of dancers we've had...ever. Tonight I hope that Susie and Marquis go home, but I suspect that Gev, Courtney, Jamie, and Rayven will probably be joining them in the bottom.

"May God Strike Me Dead... If I'm Telling A Lie!", a comedy playing on the Geva NextStage as a part of the Rochester TheatreFest, isn't all laughs.

The play -- well, musical, kind-of -- is written and performed by BellAdele producer and School of the Arts Arts Director Adele Fico, and it makes a social statement about the modern woman, and the generation gap between the wife/mother of today and her predecessors.

This undoubtedly funny, but choppy, performance is one that appeals to some demographics more than others -- for example, Italians, Catholics, and middle-aged women.

Fico portrays several vastly different characters throughout the show, and there is something to be said for her transitions. It's not every day you see Vita, the multi-tasking business exec who makes time for her aging mother and soon-to-be-married daughter; Nona, the cookie-cutter Italian matriarch; and even Leon, the sexually charged New Orleans taxi-cab driver, living in the body -- and voice -- of the same woman.

Fico's strengths as a performer reside in her energy and presence on stage, specifically depicted through her physical choices. Each character walked differently and had a unique accent and dialect. Each persona was quirky in her (or in Leon's case, his) own way.

The show opens with a video sequence, the first of many throughout. Although they did not all seem to fit -- a nun advertising rosary kits, for example -- the vignettes were professionally made. The content of the show had elements reminiscent of "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" (but this time riffing on Italians), and "Nunsense" (in the aforementioned commercial), but, thankfully, it left out any allusion to the "Blair Witch Project" by displaying tastefully produced videos. These allowed time for set changes and costume changes.

Fico's best performance was Nona, and she pulled laugh after laugh from the audience, who probably saw their own mothers in this judgmental, traditional Catholic who was "fiber-glass-ted" (flabbergasted) at her granddaughter's "shacking up."

The only character whose appearance seemed out of place was Inez Calabash, the saucy talk-show host dressed head to toe in sparkles and leopard print. She engaged the audience as the lights came up, and incited the women in the audience to embrace their inner goddesses -- and their men to bow down and give worship.

The musical aspect, contributed by Corrine Aquilina, was shaky at best. Fico's performance of the seemingly unrelated and cliché songs was powerful in volume, but not necessarily in pitch. The spoken songs -- most of them -- were enjoyable, but "May God Strike Me Dead" is surely not a musical made for singers or vocal-music-oriented audience members.

Sadly, there is one character transformation that might break the believability of the performance for some viewers. When moving from Regina, the granddaughter, to her Nona, Fico removes the Regina wig on stage, closes her eyes, applies her Nona wig, and resumes as if the audience did not just witness the very public identity crisis. It was outrageous and inconsistent, as it is the only transition made on stage, in plain view of the audience.

Overall, the show was entertaining, but confusing as to the connecting factor. Audiences might wonder: what brings it all together? The theme of changing expectations and notions of propriety regarding young women of the day is clear, but lacking in substance.

However, if the hysterical Italian lady and the talk-show host speaking about teams of men worshipping her in bed is enough to satisfy your theater tastes, give this energetic performance a try.

"May God Strike Me Dead..." continues through June 8 at Geva's Nextstage, 75 Woodbury Blvd. Tickets cost $20. For more information call 232-4382.

"You may find Narnia a more savage place than you remember," warns Trumpkin the Red Dwarf, as channeled by "The Station Agent"'s Peter Dinklage. He's speaking to the Pevensie brood, but he may as well be addressing those watching the latest cinematic chapter to "The Chronicles of Narnia," called"Prince Caspian." The sequel to the 2004 blockbuster "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe," "Prince Caspian" goes "The Two Towers" route, or that of "The Empire Strikes Back," swapping its predecessor's novelty and wonder for something moodier, more ominous. In a perfect world, such a trade would enrich the evolving tale. But you don't need me to tell you that the world is often flawed.

One year has passed since the Pevensie siblings --- that's Lucy, Edmund, Susan, and Peter --- stumbled out of their magical armoire, and as "Prince Caspian" opens, the foursome is understandably surprised when a post-school stopover in London's Tube gives way to the azure shores of Narnia. But something seems off about their former kingdom, and the Pevensies learn that 1300 years have gone by in Narnia, now a bleak place under the thumb of an evilly bewhiskered people known as Telmarines. Cruel King Miraz (Italian filmmaker Sergio Castellitto, last seen in "Paris, je t'aime") is the Telmarine ruler, hoping to prevent our titular prince from realizing his birthright.

It's Caspian (British newcomer Ben Barnes) who unwittingly summoned the Pevensies, and "Prince Caspian" concerns itself with the efforts of Lucy, Edmund, Susan, and Peter to help Caspian and the native Narnians --- now nearly feral after ages hiding underground --- reclaim their land. And while Caspian and one-time king Peter engage in an alpha male-off over combat strategies, Lucy acts as the beacon of faith, trusting that Aslan (Liam Neeson's luscious tenor once again gives voice to the wise lion) will emerge from the forest and save the day. Now, normally my grasp of symbolism is pretty much limited to trains entering tunnels, but "Narnia" author C.S. Lewis, by way of director Andrew Adamson, makes his religous allegory --- belief without proof --- obvious enough even for a simpleton like yours truly.

The epic battle scenes aspire to the sweep of the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy (Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien were colleagues at Oxford and good friends, incidentally), but the brutal, bloodless action grows tiresome, and the notion of adolescents fighting to the death becomes downright uncomfortable. As Caspian, the vacant Barnes is wildly unimpressive, a major problem when the film is named after your character. Skandar Keynes' Edmund and Georgie Henley's Lucy are the standouts, the former newly emboldened and the latter having skipped the awkward stage, going straight from cherubic to elegant. The good news is that the two of them figure prominently in "Narnia"'s next installment, the Michael Apted-directed "Voyage of the Dawn Treader," due 2010. The bad news? So does Caspian.

"Things never happen the same way twice," Aslan tells Lucy towards the end of "Prince Caspian." He, too, could be talking to us, but it's you parents who should listen up. Perhaps your kid(s) dug the White-Witch kitsch of "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe," but be aware that "Prince Caspian" is an entirely different animal. Sure, there are more adorable talking rodents, and the sex consists of pillow-lipped Susan flirting with Caspian about their millennial age difference, but the PG rating merely acknowledges the lack of gore and not the pervasive violence. Of course you know what your own children can handle, but the parents of the four-year-old moppet at my matinee the other day probably now wish they had done their research.

Fat Whitney won! It only took us seven years and 10 cycles, but one of the juicy sisters finally went home with the title of America's. Next. Top. Model. Yay!

I'm thrilled with the results, but last night's episode was the weirdest "Top Model" finale I've ever seen. Where was the drama? The suspense? The energy? It's almost as though the editors lost their will to live after last week's booting of Dominique. And that's understandable - that hot tranny mess was the breakout star of this cycle, bringing back levels of delusion and stupidity like we haven't seen since Cycle 6's Leftover Lady, Jade. I honestly missed Dominique last night.

But that's no reason to give short shrift to the Final 3, who - in my opinion - were the strongest F3 since Cycle 3's Eva, Amanda, and YaYa. Any one of them could have won (except maybe Fatima). And yet, last night was so perfunctory and felt like such an after-thought, I had to wonder if maybe the whole show was just over it all and ready for summer break.

The girls did their CoverGirl commercial and photo shoot, which none of them really rocked. In the first panel Fatima was the surprise elimination - her delivery was clipped and robotic, sure, but her photo was beautiful and Anya's commercial was an unintelligible disaster - and she was basically just shuffled off into obscurity. Then the big fashion show was crammed into what seemed like five minutes. The final runways on this show are typically insane spectacles. We've had underwater catwalks, fashionable stiltwalkers, huge flower-covered Thai temples, and freaking ghost brides for Christ's sake. This time they had gorgeous Donatella Versace gowns and some scantily dressed man meat, but almost zero fanfare. And the girls only did two passes, versus the usual, like, five! Where was the swelling music? Where was the dazzling light show? Where was Tyra making an ass of herself, like usual?

I had heard that the show spent way too much money on Cycle 9 (what a waste that was...) and so had to really cut back the budget for this season. Maybe this is where the fat was trimmed? (No pun intended, Whitney.)

In any event, if you'd told me weeks ago that an Anya vs. Whitney Final 2 would result in Whitney winning, I'd have slapped you silly. I just didn't think it was possible. While the judges' criticisms last night were even more obtuse than usual (I could not for the life of me comprehend what Tyra was saying about Whitney's ugly facade in that first panel), I actually think they got it right. Whitney totally won the runway walk-off. She was way swishy and over-the-top, but Anya couldn't keep a straight line and seemed distracted, like she was walking through the quad on her way to pre-calc. Anya should have taken the portfolio review hands down, but I think Whitney ended up holding her own. I forgot how many of her photos I really liked.

Which is not to say that the judges didn't totally cherry pick those suckers - notice that the airport and Renaissance diva shots were nowhere to be found, and those were some of Whitney's weakest. There will undoubtedly be people saying that Whitney won because Tyra wanted a plus-sized (excuse me, full-figured) model to finally win it, not because she was the best model. And yeah, that's probably the case. But so what? If it was really about the best model, either Kat, Claire, or maybe Fatima would have gotten the crown, but it's rarely about that. It's about who is marketable and a role model. And I think Whit is. She's absolutely stunning, she's entertaining, and she can take beautiful photos, speak well, and walk a runway. She'll never be a high-fashion model, but this show will never really produce a successful couture-appropriate winner (Jaslene was probably our best bet). Whitney is a very good winner, and I look forward to her CoverGirl spots next season. She can't possibly do worse than tragic Saleisha, who we can forget ever existed. Now let us never speak of her again.

I've heard people complaining that overall, Cycle 10 was mediocre at best. And to that I say, rubbish. It's true that the girls couldn't compare aesthetically to some of the earlier crops (this was an especially broke-ass bunch), but I haven't seen such an entertaining bunch of chicks since Cycle 6. The drama, the entertainment, the fresh bitchery - it was all there, folks. "You're a shady bitch!"? "I hope you choke on your f**king coffee!"? "Frankensteiny"? These are instant classics, my friends.

Bring on Cycles 11-20, bitches!

Caught the preview screening of "Speed Racer" last night at Greece Ridge. When I first heard about this project I groaned. The Wachowskis definitely biffed the last "Matrix" flick (I actually didn't hate the second one), but it seemed like a waste of their considerable directorial talents to have them adapt possibly the most frivolous cartoon of all time. It's a kid who drives cars really fast. That's about it.

But then I saw the previews, and my interest was piqued. The Technicolor visuals looked mighty impressive, and the brief snatches of racing footage excited me -- and I couldn't care less about auto racing in the real world. Could the Wackhowskis actually turn this stupid cartoon into a great movie?

The answer is yes - mostly. The movie has some flaws, specifically that it is too long (it's rated PG and is clearly aimed at kids, and yet clocks in at over two hours) and the plot is way more complicated than it needs to be. But if you can coast through the quieter, plot-heavy sequences, the vision, the characters, and especially the action add up to one of the most satisfying blockbusters I've seen in a long time.

The basic plot follows Speed Racer (Emile Hirsch) as he ascends from local racing favorite to a rising star in the hyper-popular global racing circuit. He's courted by the shysty head of big ol' sponsorship company (Roger Allam, in what SHOULD have been Tim Curry's role), but ultimately passes on a life of luxury out of allegiance to his family, which feels strongly that corporations have ruined racing. This leads us to a complicated plot involving the attempted ruination of Speed's family (which includes perfectly cast John Goodman and Susan Sarandon as his parents, Paulie Litt as kiddie-bait comic relief Spritle, and Chim Chim the monkey), hostile corporate takeovers, the mob, dangerous road races, and ninja assassins.

While adults shouldn't have trouble following the story's overall arc -- although the non-linear timeline occasionally confuses -- kids will likely be totally lost, pulled in every so often by the goofy antics of Spritle and Chim Chim and the intermittent races, of which there are only four. And that is a problem. This movie is clean enough, and CGI is so stunning that I think my 7-year-old nephew would love it. But the long stretches devoted to character arcs would totally lose him and most of his contemporaries.

But oh, those races. It's kind of hard to encapsulate the visual concept for this film. It's certainly Asian influenced, with a Willy Wonka color palette -- everything is crazy bright. The race tracks owe more to outlandish video games like F-Zero or Mario Kart than actual racing. There are huge jumps, hairpin turns, corkscrew twists, and insane obstacles, like 10' spikes lining the track. The cars themselves come with hydraulic jumps, carbonite cutters, chained maces, and in one memorable instance, a beehive catapult. The racing scenes are insane, thrilling, just about the coolest thing I've ever seen. I wanted more more more. If NASCAR looked like this, I'd be in the stands every race.

The cast does a uniformally good job bringing to life what are ultimately simple, iconic characters. Speed Racer doesn't exactly have much depth -- he likes to drive fast, and he's unflinchingly good -- and Hirsch does get somewhat drowned out by all the action and sparkle. Christina Ricci goes mainstream in the role of his helicopter pilot girlfriend, Trixie. She looks and acts fantastic, and the chemistry between Trix and Speed is great (yet wholly innocent). I just wish there was more of her in the film. Used in just the right amount is Racer X (Matthew Fox from "Lost," an inspired, if not entirely age-appropriate choice), the mysterious driver who works to bring down the mob that's been fixing races for decades. There are several great fight scenes involving X, including one with the whole gang in a mountain pass that should be the standard by which all movie fight scenes are judged.

I left the theater feeling satisfied and invigorated -- you know how that last race is going to end, but it's thrilling nonetheless. Unfortunately, the bad buzz is already building for the film, with the fanboy community (read: geeks) openly bitching about how it's too long, and poo-pooing the changes from the original cartoon (a Mach 6 instead of a Mach 5? Quelle horror!). This is unfortunate, but not exactly unexpected. The comic/anime/cartoon/video game nerd community seems to delight in tearing things down, putting a high premium on bashing things online so that they'll look big and tough and cool, and a low premium on independent thought. This can have a domino effect (I just saw one negative review over at Newsarama, in which dozens of commentors responded along the lines of "Boy, I knew this would suck; can't wait to see it fail") and might lead to the film stalling before it even gets out of the blocks. (Sorry, I know; in my defense it's the first bad racing metaphor I've used.) And that's a shame. "Speed Racer" isn't a perfect film, but it's totally better than its source material deserves.