film | Sarah, plain and dull

Dear Sarah Michelle Gellar,

Hi. How are you? How's married life with Freddie? How are Faith and Giles doing? Please tell me Willow and Kennedy broke up. Did Xander ever call that nice Sandy Duncan to find out where she got her glass eye? I guess you heard about how that whole Shansu deal went down in — wait. Shit, I'm sorry. I was so engrossed in those seven amazing seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I keep forgetting they weren't, you know, like ... real.

Oh, hey. Speaking of the show, I wanted to tell you that I caught your new flick THE RETURN the other day, and it sorta Dawn-ed (haha, get it?) on me that you need to step it up, girl. Your post-Buffy projects have been few and far between, and when you do act in a movie, it's a poor vehicle for your tremendous charisma and tasty way with a one-liner. OK. Allow me to recap: I actually didn't mind Scooby-Doo 2, if only because it was a decent improvement over Scooby-Doo Uno, and because Linda Cardinelli and Matthew Lillard are truly the perfect Velma and Shaggy, but you were definitely miscast as Daphne, who was scripted as an ornamental Buffy clone in red hair dye. The Grudge might've been a box-office hit, I'll give you that, but it contained a scene in which a vengeful spirit had to be buzzed into an apartment complex in order to haunt somebody. In other words, ew. You literally jumped out of The Grudge 2 after maybe eight minutes of screen time, and I'd like to think that when you heard they were making it, you rolled your eyes and were all like, "Fine, I'll do it for continuity's sake, but I am totally zooming through it like Jamie Lee in that 26th Halloween sequel: Boo! Aaah! Splat! Cha-ching!", and that is so proof that you're one smart cookie. (And pretty, too! I dig the brunette deal you've got going on!) And I know Simply Irresistible came out in the middle of Buffy's third season, so I shouldn't bring it up here, but Sarah. Sarah. It was so freakin' terrible, I couldn't not include it. Two words: enchanted crustacean.

So, um, The Return. Yawn. I mean, it's not as awful as that episode where Buffy and that fraternity are transformed into neanderthals by the tainted beer, but it's also not good, like ... oh, every other episode of Buffy. You play a sadsack sales rep for a trucking company, for God's sake. I know you actor people need to stretch by taking different roles and stuff — and, yeah, this is about as un-Buffy as you can get — but this Shyamalan-ian supernatural drama ain't doin' either of us a favor.

So this Joanna (you), she's a morose self-mutilator due to a hazy childhood trauma, and she's cruising through the south on business with a stalker ex (Adam Scott) — a subplot that disappears so quickly, it's less a red herring than a pink anchovy — and her demons — not, unfortunately, the literal kind you used to wallop on Buffy — in hot pursuit. She experiences these vivid flashbacks to a violent ordeal that doesn't seem to have anything to do with her, only it actually does, see, because ... well, you already know. You're in the movie ... which reminds me: I've got a couple questions that maybe you can answer. Like, OK. If the you-know-what wanted to find you-know-who, why on earth would it make you cut yourself? Let's say you bled to death; it'd be screwed. And how did the bad guy manage to get his truck ahead of you for that pivotal climactic jolt? And why did he hide the knife in the gas tank? And aren't you incredibly fortunate that the vehicle was collecting rust right there on his lot, and that the undercarriage had corroded just enough for you to reach in and find it?

Sarah, poppet. I adore you, and I want to give The Return a few scraps of credit for its terrifically moody production values, and for at least trying to unnerve without resorting to the endless gristle of one of those Hostel Saw Massacre torture shows that are so popular with the kids these days. And while the obligatory big-twist finale is mildly interesting, getting there — a murky slog through familiar territory — is hardly worth it. If I was the kind of guy who graded movies on some stupid blog in order to make myself seem more important than I actually am, I'd probably give The Return a C-, and I might end my review by asking you to quit this dreary-thriller crap and do some returning yourself — to your roots. I miss you dusting vamps, sure, but most of all, I miss looking like you were having a ball doing it.

Love always, your best friend forever,

Jamie.

p.s. Seriously, Willow and Kennedy?