Hey, Paulington! Is a Cinephile advice column that looks at life, love, and the movies. Anyone can send in a question, and Paulington will answer it. Sure, it's a really cryptic, cliched concept that has been around since the dawn of time. But we're spicing it up a little bit. Topics can range from anything: Sex, violence, haints and taints, your favorite movie! Paulington doesn't care. He's basically doing it for a paycheck. He's not really an expert on anything. But he sure does know a lot about movies and human nature. You can send your questions to (as in, click on the giant red letters and you will automatically be sent to his email):

Hey, Paulington!

And he will be sure to answer all of them in a very timely manner. Here are this week's letters. Enjoy!

Hey, Paulington!

Being a dude who goes to studio screenings, do you ever have to deal with theater talkers? What do you say to them? How do you keep from getting shot? It doesn't matter where I sit, I always have to listen to some douche bag give his own running dialogue through the whole film. I didn't pay for that shit. What is the proper etiquette? Signed, "Closed Captioned for the Hearing Impaired"

Dear CC. They're the ones that should worry about getting shot in the face. Or at the very least, tasered. Seriously, if I were you, I'd invest three hundred and fifty dollars in a good over the counter stun gun. Especially if you want to continue frequenting the local in-door Cineplex. Nearly every single film I go to is interrupted by some jackass that wants to add his own DVD commentary to the screen. Sometimes they think they're being funny. Other times, they are oblivious to their rude behavior. Either way, as a paying customer, we have a right to not only complain about them, thus getting them kicked out, we also have the right, as an American citizen, to deal with them on our own terms. A simple "shut up" often does the trick, but some surely ticket talkers will give you lip service in return. This is never good, and politeness will get you nowhere. Trust me. My favorite trick as of late is to simply repeat everything they are saying, word for word, at a slightly higher volume. Sure, now you are being disruptive, but it sure sends the message home. Try it out, and tell me that shit doesn't work like a charm. As far as studio screenings go, people still talk to the screen in that closed off environment. Actors at premieres are the fucking worst. Clint Eastwood's best friend, and all around awesome dude otherwise, Geoffrey Lewis, talked non-stop through the premiere of The Devil's Rejects, and kicked the back of my seat to boot. The Broken Lizard gang wouldn't shut up through their premiere of Super Troopers. But the worst had to be Pat O'Brien, who stayed on his cell phone all the way through The Whole Ten Yards. Then there's Ben Lyons and his goddamn cell phone. What a bunch of ape laggots. All of them. No one is safe from a talker, not even at a junket event. If you want to see a first run movie without having to deal with obnoxious crowds, I suggest you stick to the Drive-In, the best venue in town.

Hey, Paulington!

There are so many new shows on this fall. What do you think looks the most promising? Are there any I should watch? Or is it all garbage? Signed, "Starved for Teletainment"

Dear Starved. My favorite new show is actually an oldie from England. I can't get enough of The Mighty Boosh, now airing on The Cartoon Network's Adult Swim. Hey, it's new to some of us less civilized American wanks. But as far as this new fall TV season is concerned, the best show I've run into thus far is Glee. Episode four, which aired last night, stands as a testament to the power of this very funny, highly entertaining show. They crammed at least six episodes worth of plotlines into just forty-five minutes and somehow made it work. The relationships are being set up according to the rules of classic TV with some new, provocative twists. It's hilarious, with Jane Lynch killing it every time she steps in front of the camera. And despite Single Ladies being mocked to overdone perfection, the football team's rendition of the now classic video (go, Kanye!) was still pretty jaw dropping. I can't wait to see how the rest of this season plays out. Also starting off on a promising foot is Community, which proves that Chevy Chase has still got it. I am also deeply in love with series regular Dong Lover (aka Donald Glover, a 30 Rock writer that now has his own sitcom). FlashForward sounds promising, but I haven't seen it yet. And I might take a look at The Vampire Diaries if I get a free moment. I love Ed O'Neil to death, but his new sitcom Modern Family doesn't appeal to me in the least bit. Other than that, I don't think there is much else out there that is worth my time. Now, your time? That's a whole other story.

Hey, Paulington!

Why are you not doing interviews anymore? And who is this new guy? Signed, "I always thought you sucked, anyway!"

Dear Anyway. Thanks for that. As I mentioned in a previous letter column, I have been transplanted to Nashville, Tennessee as part of a cultural experiment. To see if I can continue to be connected to the world of Movies while far removed from its base of operations. So far, the experiment has been a failure. I have only seen three movies in the last two months. And I didn't know Patrick Swayze died until early this morning. The line for the live fiddle player was longer than the line to get into a free showing of Fame last night. Granted, the live fiddle player was much more entertaining. I did attend a premiere for Inglourious Basterds. Al Gore introduced the film, and Eli Roth screamed to a theater full of grey haired politicians, "Are you ready to kill some Nazis?" It was embarrassing, and the theater was wrapped in purple faux-velvet. Vomitous. I had to drive deep into the mountains to see Jennifer's Body. We were the only ones there, and it was opening weekend. Then, as I just mentioned, I saw Fame last night. Because the theater wanted to show their "none free" movie at its original start time, they cut a good fifteen-minute chunk out of our press screening. Yes, I missed a reel, and have no idea what happened to those crazy Fame kids during their sophomore year. It's a stinker. Enough about me. This new cat is Jami Philbrick. He's a former child actor that appeared in such films as Old School and The Adventures of Rocky & Bullwinkle. He is our ace in the hole, a stand-up guy, and quite possibly the next Jimmy Fallon. I don't want to say too much more about him, it might ruin the mystique. He's very cool, and I am sure you will enjoy him very much. If not, what can I tell you? He's free to watch. And that's quite the bargain in this harsh socioeconomic climate.

Send your questions about love, life, and the movies to:

Hey, Paulington!

Hope you have a great week! See you next time. (If you click on the big red letters, you will be taken to an email address where you will be able to leave your questions.)

Cinemark Movie Club
B. Alan Orange