I was tooling around on the web last night and came across a trailer for Burt Reynold's new Vegas flick, Crap Shoot — no, just kidding. It's called Deal. Looks almost too awful for words. And the movie doesn't look much better.

I may not rush to the theater to see it (and, trust me, you'll have to rush), but it's already in my Netflix queue. Reynolds is worth watching, for sure. Personally, I'm mesmerized by ghastly plastic surgery. The ghastlier, the more mesmerizing.  And Reynolds has now crossed over from your run-of-the-mill plastic surgery addict to that rarefied realm of true Hollywood face-lift freaks (for a sampling of the Pantheon click here).

Of course, it's been almost forty years since Reynolds was really sexy, like Deliverance sexy. And he was in his mid-thirties (which, for the record, are some sexy years) then...


There may have been a time when Reynolds, who is not a bad actor, could have evolved into a Clint Eastwood, who also had a jag of real dogs in the late seventies and early eighties. What happened to Reynolds can only be explained by excessive male vanity and reckless abandon. Now, those are actually qualities we esteem and, wisely or not, extol in young men. That's what sports, war, porn, and blogging are all about. It's possible nothing at all would get done without them.

Not to be ageist (Lord knows I can ill afford it at this point), but an excess of vanity and abandon in a man Reynolds' age, if no longer viewed as a moral failing, might reasonably be looked on as a case of mental retardation. But ya know what? Who cares? That's entertainment, baby! Greatest show on earth!

Truth is, I still can't take my eyes off of him, although it's for different reasons now than back in the day. There's still something about him. I mean, it takes cajones to go out in public looking like that. And where else but Hollywood would people hire you to do it?