The Singing Detective (2003) [Original Post]
This represents the point in the double helix of fate when Mel Gibson was in good favour, and Robert Downey Jr was one more heroin/cocaine speedball bender away from ruining his life, or somebody else's. The solution: strap him to a bed, cover him head-to-toe in latex make-up effects, and sing the classics. I never watched the 1986 BBC television series this was based on, but throw me an old fashioned gangster and The Chordettes' Mr. Sandman, and I'm pretty much pleased. Revisiting this after a solid decade or two away turned out to be a real nice time. If I didn't buy the DVD when it first came out, it'd be unearthing a hidden gem. If you've participated in the great forgetting, perhaps you'd like to find it for yourself. At this point, the twisting internalized whodunnit of the psoriatic novelist might even pass for something less than cliche. Also noteworthy as an early entry in the attempted theatrical legitimacy of Katie Holmes. Ask your parents, kids.
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