Chemistry. It's a word tossed around in plenty of movie reviews, generally to diagnose whether two actors have it or not. Chemistry can be in the eye of the beholder: some critics may disagree, but if the chemistry is really there, it will show in the way the film catches on. No one can deny that Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan had it in When Harry Met Sally, or that William Powell and Myrna Loy, or Woody Allen and Diane Keaton had it in their many films. But for every hit, there are many, many failed experiments. Here are seven of the most (or least) memorable.

1. Fred Astaire and Joan Fontaine in A Damsel in Distress (1937)
For whatever reason, Astaire decided to break up his hit formula with Ginger Rogers and make this movie without her. His new partner? Joan Fontaine, best known for playing mousy, quietly pretty types (Rebecca, Letter from an Unknown Woman, etc.) and definitely not a song-and-dance woman. Poor Joan was taken to the mat for her lack of singing and hoofing, although the film actually isn't that bad. The ultra-witty P.G. Wodehouse adapted his own novel, it won an Oscar for its dance choreography, and it features another great team: George Burns and Gracie Allen.

2. Hugh Grant and Sandra Bullock in Two Weeks Notice (2002)
Every so often some Hollywood executive gets the idea to team up two big stars, hoping that their massive appeal will translate into screen chemistry; it mostly doesn't. These two romantic comedy masters, who have been wonderful in other films with other people, came together like a dull, wet flint, unable to strike even the most meager spark. Another infamous example of this type of casting came in 1986: recent Oscar winners Jack Nicholson and Meryl Streep came together for Mike Nichols' Heartburn. Before it opened, it had lots of buzz. After it opened, it had more of a stench.

"This is the man Hugh Grant dubbed 'Fang Lee' after making Sense and Sensibility with him," so says a new article in The Age about Ang Lee's apparent reputation for being a cruel taskmaster on his movie sets, although in Lee's defense the piece doesn't offer a great deal of examples to support its premise and comes across more like a hook to write up an otherwise boring piece about Lust, Caution. In fact, the closest it comes to naming names is offering the vague assertion that Heath Ledger once claimed Lee pushed him to the brink of physical endurance during the shooting of Brokeback Mountain, which doesn't sound like a damning accusation even if it's taken in context. But who cares about context? Lets have some more hyperbole: Lee is "the industry's Clark Kent," according to the piece. "Under that mild-mannered exterior -- consisting of a gentle-to-inaudible speaking voice, self-deprecating manner and an overall Zen calm -- lurks a driven obsessive, a Caligula among directors."

According to the article, Lee reportedly spent 100 hours to film a ten minute sex scene in Lust, Caution, but he defends his exactitude as a necessary part of the job. "None of us enjoys it," he's quoted as saying. "By nature it's very uncomfortable, draining and painful. We're just common people. It felt pretty harsh. But we used the pain. We enjoyed the pain." Okay, maybe that last line tags him as a bit of a weirdo, but I rarely believe stories about directors being unreasonable on the set, and if you want to know why, check out the making-of documentary on the DVD of The Shining. There's a great moment when Kubrick loses his cool at Shelley Duvall for not hitting her mark, and you can see how little moments like that can create a 'reputation,' but it still seems like something that's all in a day's work.

In case you didn't know, baked beans are the new weapon of warfare. With this latest bit of news, I'm beginning to think that all the creativity in Hollywood is getting sucked into the fury of stars dealing with insidious paparazzi. Last year, some elderly bystanders were caught in the laptop crossfire between Denise Richards and two unauthorized photographers on the set of Blonde and Blonder. Now, we've got some gassy baked beans flying through the air of London. Forget all the sequels and remakes, when will Hollywood put out a film that brings all these stories together? They're too strange to just die on the pages of a paper here or there.

It seems that photographer Ian Whittaker ticked off Hugh Grant this week, which sent the British actor into a fury near his home in the British city. While the police won't confirm that it was Grant, they stated that a 46-year-old man was arrested after an allegation of assault on April 24, and will have to return to the station next month. According to the story flying around, it started off as a simple fight, with Grant kicking the photographer and kneeing him in the groin. But then, things get interesting. Somewhere, somehow, he had a family-sized tub of beans, which he threw at the photographer, leaving him "bruised, battered and covered in baked beans." The photographer claims that Grant got even nastier, telling him that he hoped Whittaker's two children would die of cancer, but the actor refutes the quotes. Moral of the story? If you're paparazzi, stay away from Hugh Grant. Or, if you're either a fan or friend, stay away from Grant's house, because no one should be eating that many baked beans.

I guess because I'm not a dedicated Hugh Grant fan I don't quite understand the impulse to handcuff myself to him. It might not have been the actions of an overzealous fan, but that's what happened to the star at the Dutch premiere of the romantic comedy Music and Lyrics with Drew Barrymore. Hollywood.com reported that Dutch TV personality Cielke Sijben from 101 TV approached Grant as he walked the red carpet at the Amsterdam Pathé theatre and without saying a word, calmly shackled herself to him. It is assumed that Sijben was performing a prank for a show for the network but that didn't make the incident any less bizarre for those nearby.

An onlooker at the event commented, "It was incredible. She appeared from nowhere and Grant couldn't believe it was happening." Police later arrested Sijben, but not before Grant had to stand attached to her for almost ten minutes before fire fighters could arrive to cut the handcuffs. Grant said nothing while waiting to be freed, but as soon as the cuffs were off he went back to working the press line alongside co-star Drew Barrymore. After Grant had fulfilled his publicity obligations he was described as seeming to be "relieved when he disappeared into the theatre--she could have been a maniac." Not to mention that the sensation of wearing handcuffs probably brought back some unpleasant memories.

"Extraordinary how potent cheap music is."

-- Noel Coward

Music and Lyrics is a nice, light, bright romantic comedy -- a demonstration of the best and the worst of modern romantic comedy in action, in fact -- that only winds up winning you over because it's not hard to have a good time watching Hugh Grant be charming and Drew Barrymore be sweet. I mean, they're good at those things, so in many ways the success of Music and Lyrics is just the triumph of watching professionals at work. Grant is Alex Fletcher, who used to be one of the members of Pop!, an '80s pop band whose work evokes not-entirely-pleasant memories of Wham, A-Ha and ABC. Making a living off of royalties and mall appearances, Fletcher could nonetheless use a big break -- which he gets, as popstar-of-the-moment Cora Corman (Haley Bennett) asks Alex to write her a song.

Alex is a melody man -- and he knows this. After looking for hired-gun co-writers, into Alex's life wanders, in true modern romantic comedy fashion, the last thing he ever expected. ... Namely, substitute plant watering contractor Sophie Fisher (Drew Barrymore), whose idle under-her-breath musings on Alex's music suggest that she may be a natural songwriter. Can the two of them not only finish a hit song before the end of the week but reconcile their growing attraction and affection? Do objects fall down when you drop them?

Twice in the past year, I've seen movies in which the closing credits were the funniest part of the movie, which is not exactly a recommendation for those films (Cars and Code Name: The Cleaner). Now I have the dubious honor of having seen a film in which the opening credits are the funniest part: Music and Lyrics. The film opens with a perfect spoof of an Eighties-era music video, featuring the band Pop! with Alex Fletcher (Hugh Grant). In the video, Hugh Grant looks like an alternate member of Duran Duran, doing dance moves stolen from George Michael or Wham! -- in fact, it might be worth seeing the movie simply for this video. However, the video and some other clever musical moments are attached to a routine and somewhat lackluster romantic comedy.

It turns out that Fletcher's career has declined since the demise of Pop! and he's now performing at state fairs, Knott's Berry Farm, and high-school reunions. He's a hack who doesn't care what happens to the music he writes or performs as long as there's a check in it for him. When teen pop sensation Cora asks him to write a song for her upcoming concert, Fletcher agrees ... but he needs a lyricist in a hurry. Cue Sophie Fisher (Drew Barrymore), a wacky woman who waters his plants and turns out to have a hidden gift for writing pop lyrics. If you've ever seen a romantic comedy, you should be able to figure it out from here.

It's not my fault that when I see the phrase "romantic comedy," my eyes get all glassy and my brain starts thinking about pizza. I happen to be a huge fan of some really great "rom-coms," you know. There's When Harry Met Sally... and Say Anything... and, OK, basically any movie title that ends with an ellipses is a brilliant romantic comedy.

Oh, Serendipity! That one I liked. Of the dozens and dozens of pre-packaged chick-flick rom-coms I've seen, I kinda liked Serendipity. Oh, and Wimbledon. Kinda. Is that weird? I think I also liked that one with Hugh Jackman and the time travel. Oh wait, no, I didn't.

So when I stopped by trailer central to see what new goodies were on display, I offered an involuntary eyeball-roll for Music and Lyrics, which stars Hugh Grant as a has-been pop-star and Drew Barrymore as his late-career muse. And, god help me, I actually liked this trailer. Wait a sec, hold on; I gotta go watch the Transformers trailer one more time. Just to boost my testosterone levels.

I was actually feeling pretty positive about Music and Lyrics -- until I realized it was written and directed by Marc Lawrence, the man who gave you Life with Mikey, The Out-of-Towners, and three of Sandra Bullock's most rotten movies. Still, I do think Hugh Grant can be pretty funny (given the proper material) and I'll always have that Gen-x crush on Drew Barrymore (no matter how old the two of us get), so I suppose things could be much worse. The thing could star Debra Messing and Paul Walker.

Music and Lyrics opens on Valentine's Day, so go find a date right now before they all run out.

It's funny how Hugh Grant might have started off as the adorably foppish romantic lead, but he has come to fully embrace his potential as the "smarmy jerk" that some of us suspected was lurking underneath all along. Maybe that sounded a little harsh, because lately what we've seen of Grant is the softening of the two extremes in romantic parts with a bit of "edge" -- there's an association you don't to often make, Hugh Grant and "edge".

Comingsoon.net has a look at the poster for Music and Lyrics, a new romantic comedy starring Grant and Drew Barrymore. Grant plays a washed up '80s pop singer who gets the chance for a comeback. Unable to write a song, he finds an unlikely writing partner in Barrymore, who'll be playing one of her many variations of the hot, weird girl. The whole thing sounds predictably cute and fuzzy with maybe a laugh here and there. The comedy back up for the romance includes TV alum Brad Garrett from Everybody Loves Raymond and Kristen Johnston from 3rd Rock from the Sun. The poster itself is kind of plain -- but with romantic comedies, most of them are. Music and Lyrics was written and directed by Marc Lawrence, and the film will be released on the gag-inducing date of February 14th, 2007.

Eighteen-year-old Haley Joel Osment pleaded no contest in court yesterday, and the judge didn't offer him a chance to Pay it Forward. Osment will serve three years probation, serve 60 hours in an alcohol rehabilitation program, attend 26 Alcoholics Anonymous meetings over a six month period, and pay $1500 in fines. Osment, who fractured a rib and injured his shoulder during an accident in July which involved him flipping a 1995 Saturn after crashing into a brick mailbox outside of Los Angeles, also had a .16 blood alcohol content (twice the legal limit) and a quantity of marijuana.

Osment's film Home of the Giants is currently in post-production and should be released later this year or in early 2007, so what will this mean for the teenage star? He doesn't have a next film lined up, which isn't too uncommon, but his last film was Secondhand Lions, which performed poorly at the box office in 2003 (although I highly enjoyed the Michael Caine and Robert Duvall pairing). He's done a lot of voiceover work since then, but this might put his live-action career on the skids for awhile. He's fallen a long way since his Oscar nominated performance in The Sixth Sense.

While it could bring trouble for the young actor, high-profile arrests in Hollywood have often proven to boost careers, just look at Hugh Grant, Russell Crowe, Robert Downey Jr., Nick Nolte, and Mel Gibson. While the jury is still out on how Mel will ultimately be affected, all of the other actors have enjoyed success after their days in court.

What do you think? Will this hurt or harm his career?

More Haley Joel Osment on Cinematical:

BREAKING: Haley Joel Osment in Serious Car Crash

Haley Joel Heads to Jail?

Did the title manage to invoke an earworm from The Lion King in your head? Sorry about that. But it seems like this is a record week for celebrity milestone events: birth, death, birth and death at the same time, divorce, and even strange addictions. Here are some of the highlights from this week's film-related celebrity gossip. I made sure all the celebrities mentioned had something to do with film, and noted their big movie achievements when it seemed doubtful.

• Birth: Britney Spears (Crossroads) had another baby, a boy with nearly the same birthday as his brother. In an unbelievably tragic event, Anna Nicole Smith (The Hudsucker Proxy) had a baby daughter and lost her son at nearly the same time.
• Divorce: Whitney Houston (The Bodyguard) announced that she's filed for divorce from Bobby Brown (Ghostbusters II) after 14 years of marriage. I'm a little slow on the gossip uptake sometimes but even I knew that the couple had a somewhat turbulent relationship.

The commercial I saw for American Dreamz the other night introduces us to the main characters: The President; The Chief of Staff; The Wanna-Be Star; The Boyfriend; The TV Host; The Stage Mother. Unfortunately, those descriptions are about as deep as the character development gets in this tepid comedy from Paul Weitz, the director of About a Boy, In Good Company and American Pie. While no one gets it on with a hot dessert in Weitz's newest film, neither does the comedy ever get more than lukewarm. I suspect this is one of those movie ideas that sounded a whole lot better in the pitch meeting than when it ended up in theaters.  

Part of the problem is that the film doesn't really seem to know what it wants to be when it grows up. We have a wanna-be political satire about a dumb Southern president (gee, wonder who Dennis Quaid is supposed to be lampooning here?) who wakes up the day after his reelection and decides to start thinking. His sedated First Lady is played by Marcia Gay Harden (so obviously Laura Bush she might as well be wearing a "Hello My Name Is ..." tag), and Willem Dafoe, doing his best Dick Cheney impression, is the controlling Chief of Staff.

Then we have the would-be social satire of a reality TV show where wanna-be pop tarts perform for the votes of audience members, and things aren't always what they seem on camera. Weitz works again with Hugh Grant, his star from About A Boy, who plays Martin Tweed, the snarky, British, malcontented host of the show. If you're going to cast anyone in the part of a Simon Cowell-esque TV host, you couldn't do much better than to cast Grant in the part. Likewise, Mandy Moore (playing against type again, as she did in Saved!, by playing a nice girl who's really not-so-nice beneath the surface) is an excellent choice to play Sally Kendoo, who is so desperate to leave behind her "white trash rural Ohio roots" she would probably sacrifice her own mother (Jennifer Coolidge) for success.

Our corporate sugar-daddies at AOL have this contest going for American Dreamz: record yourself singing the American Dreamz theme song and send them a video. They'll post the best (and what do you wanna bet the worst, too) entries for readers to vote on. See, it's kinda like American Idol, but without the snark of Simon Cowell and whatever-she's-on-this-week antics and gravity-defying boobage of Paula Abdul.

I haven't seen American Dreamz yet (Jette just wrote a review from SXSW, and I'll be reviewing it later from a non-festival screening), but just on the description - the president of the United States serving as a judge on an Idol type show? Riiiiight. Because the first thing you want to do when you have a president having a breakdown is put him on TV without his teleprompter, right? Besides, what better use for the time of the leader of the Free World than judging a pop star show? Honestly - am I the only one who thinks this concept was doomed to the realms of banality from the get-go?

Okay, criticism of the concept of the film aside, some of  you might actually have the spare time and inclination (and hopefully talent as well)  to enter this contest. If you're interested, check it out over here. Warning: you have to sing the Mandy Moore song - you can't be all cool and do your own version of Live's cover of Walk the Line or anything. But I must admit - seeing some tattooed, heavy metal rocker boy blasting out a Mandy Moore song would probably make my day.

Thanks to hot tipper Mike for pointing us to this gem.

The last movie I saw at SXSW was also the most commercial film I saw, the film that will likely get the widest release: American Dreamz, which was written and directed by Paul Weitz. Weitz, who attended the festival's closing-night screening with actors Dennis Quaid and Sam Golzari, also wrote and directed In Good Company (which also starred Quaid) and co-directed American Pie and About a Boy. American Dreamz is Weitz's first foray into political comedy. I think he should have stuck with teenage sex comedies and Nick Hornby adaptations.

After the screening, Weitz explained that he got the idea for the film after watching TV footage of American Idol at the same time as the war in Iraq. I feel that American Idol does not mix well with U.S. foreign politics. It's like that time in college when I decided to mix orange juice and Jack Daniels. Admittedly, that was all we had left at the party and my judgment was also rather impaired, excuses that won't work nearly as well for the American Dreamz filmmakers. Let's hope they don't suffer from their unfortunate mix the same way I did with mine.

American Dreamz focuses on several related stories. Hugh Grant plays Tweedy, the Simon Cowell-esque producer/host of the Idol-esque show American Dreamz. He decides to boost ratings by finding some novelty contestants: one Jewish, one Middle Eastern. Omer (Sam Golzari), the Middle Eastern contestant turns out to be—you'll never believe this—a former terrorist. Meanwhile, WASP-y contestant Sally Kendoo (Mandy Moore) schemes to win by exploiting her relationship with a veteran of the Iraqi war (Chris Klein).

My brother emailed me last weekend asking what I knew about Paul Weitz's American Dreamz, the new satire from the brilliant/idiotic (depending on your point of view on teen sex comedies) mind that brought us American Pie. Because I'm a helpful sister, I went to the IMDB and read him the summary - it turns out that, were he still living in LA (he's not), he could have gone to an advance screening of the thing. Basically, he just wanted to know what he'd missed by moving to the Midwest; based on the screening reports just posted at AICN, the answer is "not much."

Though it's sometimes a challenge to see the movie through the hyperbole in AICN's fan reports, one thing comes through clearly here: the movie is a bit of a mess. At best the narrative is poorly constructed ("very jumpy," if you will); at worst it's "90 minutes of 'Bush is dumb, American Idol is dumb,' man-handled by a writer incapable of reconciling the two concepts." Ouch. But hey, at least Dennis Quaid is good! Go read for yourselves, if you're curious about the film. Two warnings, though: one of the reviews is filled with annoying, over-the-top profanity, and both are heavily spoiler-laden.

Crappy or not, American Dreamz is released in the US on April 21.

In a shocking turn of events, a foreign remake of an American film just won a ton of major film awards - who would have guessed such a thing was even possible? Last night, though, it happened, when Jacques Audiard's The Beat That My Heart Skipped - a remake of James Toback's Fingers, which starred Harvey Keitel - made a mockery of the Cesar Awards (yes, those are the proverbial French Oscars). In a sweep so massive that the director described it as "embarrassing," Audiard's film took home eight of the 19 available awards, including those for best film (a category in which it beat out France's best foreign film Oscar nominee, Merry Christmas) and best director.

Also being recognized at the ceremony were Hugh Grant, who one can assume stammered charmingly while accepting his career achievement (?!) award, and Million Dollar Baby which, bizarrely, was named best foreign film.