Claire Danes was on the show Wednesday plugging "Stardust," so I asked the segment producer who worked with her if I could borrow the screener the studio sent over, and I watched it this afternoon. (I would have much preferred to watch it at home on the big 50 inch flat screen, but my ancient DVD player won't play burned discs, so I had to settle for the crappy 19 inch tube TV in my office. Note to self: upgrade video playback components to equal killer, cutting-edge plasma.)

In any case, I absolutely loved loved loved "Stardust." Now, I will admit that this overwhelmingly effusive response could have something to do with the fact that, after having my heart broken several times, I tend to grade f&sf films on a bell curve, and I've learned not to expect much of them anymore, especially those adapted from novels--think "Dune" or "A Wrinkle in Time" or that "Earthsea" travesty, and, oh, I can still remember sitting in the Ziegfeld, the smile nearly splitting my face when the the first strident beats of John Williams' theme played for "Phantom Menace"...well, that smile got wiped away but quick.

Yes, it's generally a sad state of affairs for genre film and television and whereas my reaction when I saw a trailer or a promo used to be "Geez, that looks cool!," now, alas, my child-like enthusiasm has been whittled down to a sigh and a jaded "Geez, I hope that doesn't suck."

Well, for the record, go see"Stardust." It totally doesn't suck.