Little Red Riding Hood, the original story about a girl and a wolf meeting cute, is getting a new, romantic retelling from Warner Brothers. If you think that this is not an attempt to use its metaphorical teeth to take a bite-related pun out of Twilight’s success, then you have never seen a movie before.

Naturally, anything as phenomenally popular as Twilight is going to spawn a subgenre; since Twilight can basically print its own money by now, there’s no point in straying too far from the proven concept. Warner Brothers has even hired Twilight’s Catherine Hardwicke herself to direct, which is such a genius move I can hardly believe it. (Summit released her from her contract before filming began on New Moon, citing scheduling difficulties, a move that, given fan reception of New Moon, might have been a mistake.) Of all the big-and small-screen Twilight spinoffs that have been put into production, scoring Hardwicke might be the single best move any of them has made.

They’ve kept up the good work by casting Amanda Seyfried as the young lady in the red hood. This is a bonus for two reasons: firstly, she’s a much better actress than Kristen Stewart (who I am hoping will pleasantly surprise us all in The Runaways); secondly, she has a pretty big resume that mixes indie projects (Veronica Mars, Big Love) with blockbuster cred (Dear John, the execrable Mamma Mia!). This box-office track record both neatly maximizes the target audience and gives her a buffer against typecasting.

The story itself has the same potential any fairy tale has, and the same pitfalls. Writer David Johnson is coming off the heels of last year’s other young-girls-are-secretly-terrifying thriller, Orphan, which is good or bad news depending on how much you believe the camp in Orphan was intentional.

(A brief tangent about adapting this particular tale. Orphan’s Esther seems like a prototype of the Riding Hood Warner Brothers is going for, an unsettling and sexualized young woman; unfortunately for Johnson, “unsettling and sexualized” is a nutshell description of Angela Carter’s The Company of Wolves, a previous (excellent) retelling of Red Riding Hood that’s going to be tough to top. If it’s a modern spin, things will be easier for him; he’s been beaten to the punch by Hard Candy, which is about as dark as it gets, but is not a genre flick; plus, Hard Candy is the least romantic movie ever made, so whatever romance Johnson can manage will have room to breathe. Okay, time in!)

We’re still awaiting casting news of any human or beastly love interests; I’m guessing two, one of each, and neither old enough to rent a car, just because there’s going to be a lot more love triangle and a lot less psychological horror if Warner Brothers is going for the audience as directly as appearances would suggest.

This is clearly a cut above the upcoming SyFy disasters, but for now, all this news has done is make me want to go home and pull out my DVD of In the Company of Wolves.

[this piece originally appeared on Tor.com.]

So, this Olympics I’ve fallen hard for the ice skating. Don’t worry, it’ll be over in a week and change, and then we’ll be back to pictures of horrific advertising as per usual.

The men’s short program was last night, and I have a couple of comments, mostly regarding the commentators and editorializing.

1. The commenting in general was hugely over the top, as with Florent Amodio, whom they treated as if he was a salamander because he had been adopted from Brazil to France, and no adoptee has ever come to anything until this moment, I guess. Not particularly offensive, just…really pushing the bullet points on their notes.

2. Plushenko. Okay, here is the thing about Plushenko. Do I think he’s a jerk? Yes. Do I think his skating lacks artistry? Yes. Am I glad two other skaters have put in performances that will make the long program an honest fight? Yes. Do I think that, if Plushenko gets the gold, Russia will come and get us? No, I do not, because I am a person with a functioning brain stem.

Just – for god’s sake, paint him as a jerk in your fluff piece if you want, it’s not hard; but skip the ominous smash cuts to barbed wire and crumbling statues and imposing architecture, all right, NBC? I mean, BOND movies are ashamed of you, that’s how bad this is.

3. The NBC commentators, including the usually-excellent Scott Hamilton, seemed shocked that Johnny Weir delivered a solid performance, despite a very long list of competitive wins. I understand his program lacked the technical difficulty of some of the other skaters’, so there wasn’t the thrill that a quad brings, but they seemed amazed that he did anything besides mince in a circle. You heard a lot of comments like, “It’s funny because, as controversial as he is, he really is a purist when it comes to technique – his technique is fine.”

This annoys me because it’s disingenuous on the part of the commentators, who have been aware of his career for many years and should maybe be a little less surprised by his technique, and also because a comment like that assumes flamboyant men can’t take something seriously, which, really?

For anyone who doesn’t want to sit through all the awful, endless footage of dudes falling down last night, my three personal-favorite routines, in skate order:

1. Florent Amodio. (If this kid doesn’t have a medal eight years from now, I’d like to know why.)

2. Daisuke Takahashi. (If he doesn’t have a medal 24 hours from now, I’d like to know why.)

3. Johnny Weir. (Caution: showman at work.)

The movie-savvy have 21 seconds to understand why this movie makes me so sad. The casual movie- watcher will probably figure it out around 1:02.

Oh, MICHAEL FASSBENDER.

You were in Fish Tank, then you were in Hunger, and then someone said, “Have you seen that guy who made Doomsday is making a movie where those poor, put-upon Romans are violently attacked by those nasty, ungrateful Picts whose land they’re invading?”

And Michael Fassbender said, “I didn’t! Pass me the script!”

Dear Michael: I’m not mad, just disappointed. It has nothing to do with my expectations; you should expect more from yourself. And you should breath five times into someone’s airway if they’re unconscious before you start compressions. (I dunno, I sort of run out of motherly advice in a hurry.)

Today, two great tastes that taste great together: Olympic Pairs skating, and the greatest sports movie ever made, The Cutting Edge.

Here’s the thing about The Cutting Edge: it’s a seriously early-90s movie, as evidenced by D. B. Sweeney and Moira Kelly. It is super-predictable. It also tries to tackle What Ambitious Women Are Up Against, and ends up saying, “Ambitious women are up against an awful lot! Poor thing; let’s give her a boyfriend to help her with that.”

On the other hand, it is a movie that tells you pretty much everything you need to know about pairs skating, so at least it’s useful! It will be especially useful when applied to the Pairs event that just wrapped at the Vancouver Olympics.

“It’s a bounce spin into a throw twist?”
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The first time I saw it, I realized I was in the presence of something truly beautiful. And now, for all of you, this valentine:

via Ironic Sans

Whether or not you celebrate Valentine’s Day, know that Carl Sagan loves you every day of the year. Cosmos is, in fact, a heavily-coded love letter written just for you. (But you knew that.)