At last, Twilight is in theaters!

But is it any good?

Basically, the movie succeeds where the book faltered. Rob Pattinson's Edward and Kristen Stewart's Bella not only look the part, but they massage the kinks out of Stephenie Meyer's characters: He isn't weirdly paternal, she doesn't come across as weak and insecure.

Times may be grim but director Danny Boyle is optimistic -- sort of. His new film, Slumdog Millionaire (out this week), is not the daffy, uplifting affair that Little Miss Sunshine was but much like that 2006 sleeper hit, it's a frontrunner for Heartwarming Indie That Earns an Oscar: An indigent orphan in India relates the story of his childhood and a long-lost sweetheart via his correct answers on the game show Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.

A few weeks back, I admitted to "investigating" (read: getting sucked in by) the Twilight phenomenon and reading the first book. In the intervening weeks, the madness continued.

Seth Rogen has got to be kicking himself right now. There are only a finite number of opportunities for him to play a lazy twenty-something whose sarcasm is a substitute for ambition -- and he just wasted one of them on Zack and Miri Make a Porno.

Judd Apatow isn’t attached to this film -- not even as a producer -- so how did this happen?

So I might have read Twilight.

Okay, I couldn't put it down and I'm not exactly sure why because the writing is atrocious. I could find excuses -- I was sick last weekend, I regretted having prematurely scoffed at Harry Potter -- but something about this book is appealing even when it shouldn't be.

Oliver Stone’s W is like a greatest hits album: You’re primed to respond to it because you’ve heard it all before, and mostly loved it. But, like a greatest hits album, there are no surprises. Which is the biggest surprise about Stone's latest political diatribe.