Slacker

Screenwriter David Steinberg was invited last fall by a producer to pitch his idea for a rewrite of a "high-concept comedy" about an adult slacker for a major studio. Steinberg figured he had a good shot at the assignment with credits like "American Pie 2" under his belt, even though he heard there were many other writers competing for the opening. After an initial meeting, the producer asked him to prepare a more detailed proposal, known as a "beat sheet," outlining each scene and character.

IT ASSUMES TOO MUCH to think your kid can get into a public school kindergarten without camping out as if you're after front-row U2 tickets. Lowell Elementary is not a charter or magnet school. This is Long Beach, in a state that is 44th out of 50 in spending. Yet for this fall's registration, I woke up on March 7 before dawn.

There are two groups who seem to indulge in writing memoirs: people who are too young to have lived through very much, and those who have lived so long that they've forgotten much that happened. Jamie Reidy would seem to be from the first pack. He's only 35, and his story, "Hard Sell," chronicles his professional adventures from age 25 to 30.

Polar ice caps are shrinking, glaciers are melting and coastlines are falling away. The culprit? Global warming caused by burning fossil fuels. Unless we take strong action, these conditions will only get worse. For too long, the Bush administration has led people to believe that this isn't happening, and, if it was, the remedies would only hurt our economy.

"What is it you do in life?" Lola asks Hlynur. "Nothing." "What kind of nothing?" "The nothing kind of nothing." Hlynur is not exaggerating. The protagonist of "101 Reykjavik," possibly the first and certainly the most successful Icelandic slacker comedy ever to reach this country, has so dissociated himself from adult life that his New Year's resolution is to get himself out of bed by noon.

If you're a slacker and not afraid to show it, then the New Beverly Cinema has the film festival for you. The New Bev's “Slacker Week” festival begins Sunday and Monday with Cheech and Chong's 1978 stoner classic “Up in Smoke,” directed by Lou Adler, and another stoner favorite, 2004's “Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle,” with John Cho and Kal Penn. On tap for Tuesday is the 2001 Broken Lizard comedy “Super Troopers,” followed on Wednesday by the 1978 classic “Animal House,” directed by John Landis and starring John Belushi, and Judd Apatow's 2007 blockbuster, “Knocked Up,” with Seth Rogen and Katherine Heigl.

Lena Dunham gets it. She understands completely why people might be annoyed not only by her film "Tiny Furniture" but also by the narrative of wunderkind success that has followed in its wake. "Tiny Furniture," which opens in Los Angeles on Friday, is the story of a young woman named Aura, played by Dunham, who returns home newly graduated from college and with little direction in her life. A comedy of manners and emotional nuance, the film follows Aura's baby steps of maturity from bratty petulance toward something like self-possession.

When it comes to notable secular Easter movies, there's Fred Astaire at the parade with Judy Garland and little else. But with the seasonal ubiquity of candy, eggs and bunnies, it's hardly a shock that an animation company would wring some type of festive, sentimental kids' flick out of so commercially tinged and cute animal-friendly a holiday. The animation/live-action "Hop" — from the producing-writing team behind last year's "Despicable Me," and director Tim Hill, of "Alvin and the Chipmunks" fame — is that very entry, and it's almost unashamedly middle of the road about its intentions.

Jimmy Buffett takes a lot of hits from critic types for the substance-free nature of his party-minded music. Yet he has pulled off one impressive feat with that music: convincing the masses that he's the ultimate slacker who simply lazed his way into rock stardom--and managed to dash off a few best-selling books--between snoozes in his hammock.

When you are feeling like a loser, taking a trip to loser-land may not be the most consoling recourse. Such, more or less, is the conclusion reached early on by Jim, the eponymous slacker played by Casey Affleck in Steve Buscemi's low-key comedy "Lonesome Jim." Having bottomed out as a dog walker in New York City, Jim returns to his family home in rural Indiana to wallow in the source of what he calls his "chronic despair."