Strauss-Kahn.

The fireworks have died down (hope you enjoyed the show, Jersey … better luck next year, Brooklyn and Queens) and all that’s left of this year’s patriotic festivities are the tiny flags littering the West Side Highway, the distended abdomens of the contestants in Nathan’s annual hot dog-eating contest and the sobering knowledge that, according to a new Marist poll, nearly half of the country doesn’t know when—or from what—America declared its independence. (We blame Will Smith.)

But in some ways it’s understandable. The heat can make you do crazy things. You might forget your U.S. history, you might hack into Fox News’s Twitter feed to announce President Obama’s assassination, you might decide to take a shower on the subway using a jug of water—as one woman did this weekend, in front of the city’s ever-present flock of iPhone journalists—or you might, like Time’s Mark Halperin, call the president a colloquial name for the penis on live television. Vice President Joe Biden’s summer fever manifested itself in the creation of a Twitter account, while Thaddeus McCotter’s led him to jump out of nowhere into the G.O.P. presidential race, an announcement which the obscure, Dickensian-named congressman followed by playing electric guitar on stage in Whitmore Lake, Mich.

Of course, that kind of thing wouldn’t scare the French, some of whom are still gunning for Dominique Strauss-Kahn to run for president despite the fact that he is still being held in New York pending the resolution of serious sexual assault charges (see page 8 for the latest details). Suspicion has been cast upon the testimony of his accuser, a Guinean housekeeper at Sofitel, but the fact that he had extramarital relations with a maid and then ran naked down a public hallway does not seem to be in question. And to think, we impeached Bill Clinton!

In other distressing news, the Senate’s at an impasse on the debt ceiling, Shia LaBoeuf announced plans to direct a Marilyn Manson documentary and Glenn Beck failed to cry during his final Fox broadcast last Thursday. The pasty pundit did, however, find time to flip through a stack of legal tender, free-associating in rhyme as he went. (“Oh, can we eat some cherry pie? I cannot tell a lie!” he exclaimed upon coming across a one-dollar bill. And we wonder why 26 percent of Americans cannot identify Great Britain as our motherland.)

But if it was a sad week for U.S. history teachers it was, at least, a good one for the tech world. Google+, which hopes to soon walk in Mark Zuckerberg’s well-worn Adidas sandals as the dominant force in social networking, stopped adding users to the invitation-only beta site just hours after its launch, citing “insane demand.” (Not that they don’t still have a lot to prove. Two words: Google Buzz.) Meanwhile, Zynga, the gaming network you probably know best from ignoring the repeated pleas of your Facebook friends to relieve them of their sweet seasonal ham surplus via the Café World app, revealed an I.P.O. prospectus that reports revenue of $597 million, proving thereby that people are willing to pay for fake real estate assets that have no underlying value somewhere besides Wall Street.

But social media wasn’t good for everybody this week. Entenmann’s, the baked goods company whose products have the half-life of uranium, issued an unfortunate tweet following the acquittal of accused toddler-killer Casey Anthony. “Who’s #notguilty about eating all the tasty treats they want?!” tweeted @entenmann’s Tuesday afternoon. The company later apologized. We understand, though. It’s the heat, we’re sure. Sometimes it just really gets to you.

What next, then? Well, at least one project will be producing a big-screen remake of Annie, the same musical that gave him that indelible beat over a decade ago. 

And to the excitement of "Whip My Hair" fans the world over, the production will star Willow Smith, the ten-year-old daughter of "Gettin' Jiggy With It" rapper (and occasional actor) Will Smith.

The Hollywood Reporter has the dish on this new and potentially awesome Annie. What say you, Jay?

Said Jay-Z in a statement, "The Overbrook Entertainment family and I have a unified vision.  We've already produced a Tony Award winning play and we're developing a true superstar in Willow.  This venture into film development and production is a perfect next step with teams that are accomplished, creative, and innovative.”

And so everything comes full circle. Here's that immortal video, for your viewing pleasure.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zxtn6-XQupM

Click for Scandal Report: Champagne Mania Makes for A Boozy Golden Globes

nfreeman [at] observer.com | @nfreeman1234

Jennifer Gould Keil reports that Smith and the gang have settled on a five-bedroom at 25 Bond, the slightly less famous condo on the starchitect-studded street. The penthouse occupies
the entire top floor of the BKSK-designed building, just across the street from Ian Schrager and Herzog & DeMuron's 40 Bond Street. There are six-and-a-half bathrooms, four fireplaces, brass elevators and ample wall space for the art lover. (Is Will an art lover? Who cares! A photo of the model apartment shows one of Richard Prince nurses and a Warhol Mao, so he can pretend, at least.)

Smith will be in town for the shooting of Men in Black 3.

According to StreetEasy, the unit, one of only nine in the building, had been asking $19.5 million since March 2009 and slipped off the market just over a month ago.

Gould Keil's spies tell of a feverish apartment hunt:

Smith had his minions scour the streets of Manhattan for months, visiting buildings including 152 Franklin St. in TriBeCa and 54 Bond St. before settling on 25 Bond St. We hear that one woman he hired from Los Angeles would sometimes just fly in for a few hours, visit one apartment, then turn around and fly right back to the West Coast.

So we can cross Smith off our list of unknown buyers at 54 Bond. Maybe 48 Bond would have been more to his liking, had it been on the market at the time.

mchaban [at] observer.com | @mc_nyo

The apartment boasts 16-foot-high ceilings and mezzanines, full-aperture windows and European custom cabinetry. And if the crib itself isn't enough of an enticement, Gorodetsky's offer includes "ensuite meals" delivered by nearby Choice Market and "between-takes chocolate massage treatments" from Clinton Hill's Body By Brooklyn. So far, Smith hasn't responded to the offer. Maybe it's that line about the chocolate massage.

Or maybe it's that the building is half-a-block from the BQE, appears to be of the same middling construction of so much Brooklyn bubble architecture, and, let's be honest, Will Smith could have pretty much any apartment in the city he wants. Maybe Justin Timberlake's now-rentable Tribeca pad? He should be warned, though it has certain issues.

The Real Estate Desk isn't sure what Mr. Gorodetsky is thinking here. Giving away space isn't the usual strategy. Then again, it's been almost a year since the project hit the market, and none of its units, ranging from $369,000 to $799,000, have sold according to StreetEasy. Perhaps a little red carpet glamour will do the trick.

UPDATE: A rep for the building writes in: "Just wanted to point out that the building has just gone rental. The unit that was offered to Will Smith rents for $4,000.00. The full range of the rentals is $2,085 - $4,000." Tony, tony, tony.

mchaban [at] observer.com / @mc_nyo

Chiwetel Ejiofor as Barack Obama: While it’s true Messrs. Smith and Obama share more than a passing resemblance, the World’s Biggest Movie Star ™ doesn’t have the serious gravitas to play the president. Mr. Ejiofor, on the other hand, totally does! He exudes the right mix of charm, elegance, cockiness and intelligence, and, best of all, he comes at a fraction of the cost of Mr. Smith. Plus, while he isn’t a doppelganger, you have to admit the smile is kinda uncanny.

Chevy Chase as John McCain: Mr. Chase already has experience playing presidential material—see: his Gerald Ford impression—and at this point in his life, he looks exactly like Mr. McCain. That his voice shares a certain affectation with the Arizona Senator is just gravy. Think: lispy.

Teri Hatcher as Sarah Palin: We would never trash Ms. Fey’s impeccable impression of the Alaskan governor, but there is no way it would hold up under two hours of movie scrutiny. Enter Ms. Hatcher. She may not be a look-alike for the former beauty queen, but stick her in a pair of glasses, a wardrobe from Sak’s Fifth Avenue and let her do the ditzy/sexy/stupid thing she does so well on Desperate Housewives, and … voila! You’ve got yourself a Palin.

Cherry Jones as Hillary Clinton: Ms. Jones is already playing a Hillary Clinton clone on this season of 24, so why not let her try her hand at the real thing?

Viola Davis as Michelle Obama: There is a resemblance here; if you squint hard you might think they’re the same person. But, mostly, we just love the idea of a strong and stirring actress like Ms. Davis sharing scenes with Mr. Ejiofor. Swoon!

Danny McBride as Todd Palin: If you can’t imagine Mr. Palin closing telephone conversations with a Kenny Powers-like “you’re fucking out,” well, you aren’t trying hard enough.

Hope Davis as Cindy McCain: No one does “frigid blonde” like Ms. Davis.

Bill Clinton as Himself: This is the part he was born to play.

On March 25, Variety's Michael Schneider reported that Ian Somerhalder, who played the overly-tweased stipple-bearded Boone on Lost, had been tapped to co-star in an ABC pilot called The Vampire Diaries. According to Variety, the show "centers on a woman who falls for two vampire brothers—one good and one evil."

Add this to the list that includes the just purchased script by Marc Haimes for Elevator Men, which The Hollywood Reporter's Jay A. Fernandez described as "a less romanticized look at the human-vampire interactions"; last week's U.K. release of the delicately named Lesbian Vampire Killers; and the soon-to-be released adaptation of Bret Easton Ellis' The Informers.

But wait, there's more. A lot more. How about Tim Burton and Johnny Depp's planned adaptation of Dark Shadows, which ran on TV from 1966 to 1971; the second season of HBO's True Blood (itself based on a series of novels by Charlaine Harris); and of course, New Moon, the highly anticipated (by your 15-year-old cousin) sequel to Twilight, which grossed  $191,397,304 at the box office last year.

Since those films are drawn from kids' books (if you're really prepared to argue that these books aren't just for kids, you might want to take a cold, hard look at yourself in the mirror at Forever 21 or Abercrombie & Fitch and admit you're taking this Rejuvenile, Up With Grups extended adolescence thing a little too far—being a grownup is scary, but not so much that it's acceptable to read and act and dress and text and twitter like a teenager), we can expect several more movies in this cycle with Eclipse, Breaking Dawn, Midmorning, Noon, Just After Noon, Tea Time, A Little Before Supper, 10:23 p.m. and Geez, It's Almost Midnight on the horizon.

As we speak, some enterprising hack is probably pitching a vampire sitcom called My Wife Suck, about an uptight regular guy who marries a hot—but bloodthirsty—lady vampire. ("It's Dharma & Greg meets The Munsters!")

Enough. Time to drive a stake in the heart of this trend. From now on, there can be no more vampires in pop culture. If we're honest, there hasn't been anything truly scary about vampires since 1987 when Bill Paxton ate the scenery (and several of his costars) in Near Dark, and the outré psychosexual subtext of drinking blood (you know, "blood lust" and all) has been overextended since before Anne Rice interviewed her first vampire in 1977.

It's time to develop a replacement for this surfeit of bloodsuckers who have lately come to seem so sallow, so drained of their precious life force. (Have you seen Twilight's Robert Pattinson on the cover of GQ this month? He looks as burned out as Jeff Spicoli hitting his own head with a shoe in Fast Times at Ridgemont High.)

Vampires are selling so high right now that we're at serious risk of the bubble bursting: Who can forget the great Faeries boom and bust of the late '90s? It's bloody well time for a new quasi-supernatural being to come to the forefront of the culture.

And no, that being is not a zombie, no matter how many books Mel Brooks' son puts out, how cleverly someone appropriates a Jane Austen classic, or how many big budget Will Smith movies the culture industry foists on us. (Not to mention all those "zombie banks" in the news.)

Honestly, does anyone really like zombies? Is there anyone out there who doesn't want to punch a zombie in its rotten mouth? Zombies are so stupid, so devoid of any identifiable traits, so boring in their monomaniacal pursuit of braaaaaiiiins! (fine, you want brains—shut up, already), that the thought of reading about those idiots or watching them drag their gimpy legs across a movie screen (much less tuning in to a sitcom featuring an uptight regular guy who marries a hot—but necrotic—lady zombie) makes me want to put a bullet in my own head.

Here are some suggestions to replace vampires (and those goddamn zombies) in the pop consciousness of young people and older people who should really stop considering themselves part of the pop consciousness of young people. (Seriously: Pull up your pants.)

Freaks

Sure, HBO failed to make Carnivàle into a hit on the level of The Sopranos (or even K Street), and Comedy Central's Freak Show failed to have as many seasons as Drawn Together, but there's a lot to be mined in the old midway. What better way to dramatize the awkwardness of adolescence (our bodies going all screwy, hair sprouting all over, those damn lobster-claws and tails) than through the distorted funhouse mirror of the carnival freak?

Start with Katherine Dunn's 1989 novel Geek Love, which Warner Brothers has the rights to and which has drawn interest from Terry Gilliam, Tim Burton and others. Since Hollywood is remake crazy, how about a new version of Tod Browning's Freaks? That thing is still creepy 77 years after its release. ("One of us, one of us!")

Of course, you'd have to remove the whiff of Victoriana and the tacit judgment or condemnation of the deformed or differently abled ("freak" is a pretty harsh term), but maybe freaks can be recast as X-Men and writers and filmmakers can play up the triumphant exceptionalism implied in the title of Daniel P. Mannix's book We Who Are Not As Others. Freaks shouldn't be seen as objects of our derision: They should be objects of our awe. As Olympia Binewski, the narrator of Ms. Dunn's book, declares, "A true freak cannot be made. A true freak must be born." (You hear that, stupid zombie-bite victims who turn into even stupider zombies?)

Vikings

Here's a chance for culture creators to really get in on the ground floor of the next-next. What better way to make sense of the just-ended era of rapacity and literal plunder than by dramatizing these bands of berserker brothers? Think of it as a chance for American Psychoesque satires (Scandinavian Psycho?) and big budget Braveheart type epics. If only Orson Welles were alive to do the voice-over. (Really, who remembers Erik, The Viking? Tim Robbins probably hopes you don't.)

This month's L'it Boy Wells Tower kicks it off with a story about Vikings in his new collection, Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned. According to Slate's Juliet Lapidos, the story centers around "marauding Vikings who attack a neighboring island without provocation. Although Harald, the narrator, feels he has outgrown the whole rape-and-pillage game."

Mr. Towers' publisher has even commissioned an animated short by Chris Roth based on the story to entice readers. (Mr. Tower also has a story that involves a carnival.)

Then there are the rumblings about Kenneth Branagh's adaption of the comic book Thor, which may star True Blood's towheaded vampire prince Alexander Skarsgård. (What, Thor wasn't a Viking, you say? Are you proud of yourself for knowing that?) One downside of Viking-related projects is a lack of diversity in casting, but, hey, what about a hilarious Moor-Viking buddy film?

Bigfoots (Bigfeet?)

Sasquatches have been percolating up through the culture since Tenacious D sang an ode to the big fella in 1999, McSweeney's published a journal by the name of Yeti Researcher in 2005, and a year later The New Yorker ran Tony Earley's short story "The Cryptozoologist".

As 30 Rock's recent Harry and the Henderson's riff showed, everyone has an inner bigfoot. And what are bigfeet if not cousins of the wild things from Where the Wild Things Are? (C'mon, work with me here!) With the right positioning, these guys could be big ... ger.

Consider this just a partial list. The world is full of amazing, improbable creatures (Krampuses! Golems! Log Cabin Republicans!) just waiting for their turn to replace vampires at bookstores, multiplexes, and on TV.

It's daybreak for you and your sons. Time to get your pale, bony asses back to Transylvania—and take your moronic zombie buddies with you. Be careful not trip over any stakes, suckers.

Seven Pounds

What's the story: It's hard to imagine that anything featuring the reigning title holder of "biggest movie star in the world" could fly under the radar, but that is just what has happened with Will Smith's latest. In Seven Pounds, from Mr. Smith's Pursuit of Happyness director Gabriele Muccino, the former Fresh Prince stars as IRS agent Ben Thomas who helps seven strangers... well, that's just it. We don't know what he does to help them! However we are sticking by our past speculations. Some early reviews have been vicious (read: hilarious) and the critics are lining up to proclaim this as the end of Will Smith's box office dominance. If that sounds familiar, it's because you read the same things over the summer when Hancock was released. Expect Seven Pounds, no matter how bad, to be the big hit of the season.

Who should see it: People still waiting for that Pay It Forward sequel.

Yes Man

What's the story: Based on the memoir by Danny Wallace, Jim Carrey stars as a man who can't tell a lie--err, sorry--who decides to say "yes" to everything he's asked for an entire year. This pastiche and sanitary comedy seems like a relic from a time when high concept star vehicles ruled the roost. ("Here's the pitch: Jim Carrey finds an ancient mask with special powers!") And while the supporting cast (featuring Zooey Deschanel and Bradley Cooper) is certainly worth taking note of, we'll pass. If we wanted to watch Liar, Liar again, we'd add it to our Netflix queue.

Who should see it: Jenny McCarthy.

The Tale of Despereaux

What's the story: It wouldn't be the holiday season without an animated movie, would it? Despereaux, based on the popular 2003 children's book from Kate DiCamillo, is a more traditionally animated endeavor than things like Bolt and Wall-E, but it still looks too high tech for people who grew up with An American Tail. Like us! Of note here is the roster of character actors who have been enlisted for voice work. Among them: Matthew Broderick, Dustin Hoffman, Frank Langella, Kevin Kline, William H. Macy, Stanley Tucci, Richard Jenkins and Tony Hale. Imagine seeing a live-action movie starring that motley crew?

Who should see it: Fievel Mousekewitz.

The Wrestler

What's the story: Whether or not Darren Aronofsky's latest film is any good might as well be irrelevant. All anyone can talk about when they bring up The Wrestler--all they've talked about since the film had its breakout premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival in September--is Mickey Rourke. The former Hollywood bad-boy-turned-broken-down-punch-line experiences his second career resurrection in the last three years (how soon everyone forgets Sin City) as Randy "the Ram" Robinson, a former wrestling-great now relegated to working part-time in a supermarket as he tries to make a last grasp at glory. Our Rex Reed says that Mr. Rourke exhibits a "raw, naked passion" while giving "the most brutally honest performance of the year". If there is one person who might be able to stop the Sean Penn Express come Oscar time, it's Mickey.

Who should see it: Hulk Hogan.

Nothing But the Truth

What's the story: Former film critic Rod Lurie--the "mastermind" behind such self-serious political malapropisms like The Contender and Commander-in-Chief--returns with the story of a female reporter who outs a CIA agent and faces jail time unless she reveals her source. Hey, wait a minute... does that sound familiar to anyone else? The casting here is ripe: Vera Farmiga slides in for Valerie Plame (that could work); Matt Dillon is the screen visage for Patrick Fitzgerald (not terrible); and the Judy Miller role is filled by... Kate Beckinsale (ha!). File this under, "movies we'll never see."

Who should see it: Scooter Libby.

"You have to respect the original--and you have to respect the fans of the original that expect certain things--but you've also got to play to a lot of audiences that, for the most part, don't know the original," said director Scott Derrickson (The Exorcism of Emily Rose, Hellraiser: Inferno). "So basically we looked at the original and tried to figure out everything that can be updated in some form and what won't update well. The story though is the main thing. I always loved this story of the alien coming to earth and the biggest update to the movie is the one dealing with social issues. The original was very much about its time--the Cold War and 1951 and the atomic bomb. This movie has a whole different plane of issues it is dealing with that paints a picture of where we are in the world right now."

Mr. Derrickson said that there is no actor who can pull off playing an alien better than Mr. Reeves. (We tend to agree.)

"He is an alien!" the director joked. "No, but Keanu I really do believe is an actor that has very particular gifts. I don't think there are a lot of actors who could have done The Matrix movies and not looked ridiculous. I knew he would be able to portray the oddness and the uniqueness of an alien without it becoming silly, or over the top, or distracting."

While the appearance of Mr. Reeves and Ms. Connelly got quite a few yelps and whoos from the crowds lines up outside, no on seemed to get quite as much attention as Will Smith and wife, Jada Pinkett Smith--who, it should be noted, are not in the film, but their 10-year-old son Jaden is.

Mr. Smith, for the most part, avoided talking to press so as not to overshadow his son's special evening, but at times couldn't help but enjoy the attention. He signed autographs, jumped into the crowd of fans and allowed them to snap cell phone pictures, and even took a young girl's camera and started taking photos himself.  

"I'm supposed to be letting him do his thing tonight," Mr. Smith confessed to press, trying to avoid questions. "I'm supposed to be stepping back. Y'all are gonna get me in trouble!" (Nearby, Jaden seemed to be unfazed by his father's antics and quietly continued to do interviews on the red carpet, ignoring the presence of his parents altogether.)

Mr. Smith told the Daily Transom that he's a huge sci-fi fan, but Ms. Bates, who was fanning herself with a lacy black Victorian fan to cool off from the unnecessary heat lamps overhead, said she was never a big follower of the genre. 

"I love the Alien movies, but I was never really a Trekkie," she said. "The geekiest thing I do is watch American Idol. Is that geeky?"

When Don Draper--oops, we mean Jon Hamm--made his way down the carpet, the Daily Transom inquired whether he was ever a sci-fi geek.

"Yeah, big time!" he said. "I grew up in the '70s and '80s so I had Star Wars, and Close Encounters, and Blade Runner and 2001. It was an awesome time for sci-fi."

When Mr. Hamm was asked if he still does anything geeky, his girlfriend, Jennifer Westfeldt, rolled her eyes and affectionately nodded yes.

"Oh yeah, I'm a big comic book guy and--"

"Video games, video games, video games!" exclaimed Ms. Westfedt. 

"Yes, for a long time I had an Xbox in my trailer, but now we're two or three generations away from that," said Mr. Hamm. "I have a Wii that's sitting in my office that I have yet to unpack because I know that will be a time sucker." 

Yeah, about that... Rumors are flying all over the internets that the new film will, in fact, be a sequel. That bastion of journalistic integrity Ain't It Cool News is reporting that the plans for a prequel have been scrapped. According to their admittedly untested source, neither Warner Brothers nor Mr. Smith liked the idea, so they've decided to make the new film a continuation of the first story.

OK. We'll take all of this with a gigantic grain of salt; and honestly, we actually don't even believe it. But it's interesting because perhaps now everyone involved with I Am Legend realizes that the original conclusion was a much better way to end the film. Still available on YouTube, the alternate ending, which was a major selling point for the DVD, spares Mr. Smith's life, allowing him and his new nuclear family to drive off into uncertainty. While it's a much more open-ended affair, it works infinitely better with the tone the film had already established in its first (excellent) hour. And while the CGI vampires still look awful, they have a weirdly touching humanity about them that comes through more in the alternate seven-minute denouement.

If this new film ends up being an outright sequel, would they just pick things up with our preferred alternate version? If so, we can get behind this idea. With that ending, I Am Legend could have been a lot more  than fodder for recurring nightmares. Maybe a sequel will change that. Though we'll still watch it through the slits in our fingers as our hands cover our eyes.

Of course, we can think of some immediate problems. For starters, no Pat Morita! Also, Mr. Smith the younger is apparently some sort of “martial arts practitioner” which means he’s already way ahead of where Mr. Macchio was in 1984 where he had to learn how to wax on and wax off to get good enough for the dojo. Variety reports that the new film will be set in Bejing and other exotic places and, “will borrow elements of the original plot, wherein a bullied youth learns to stand up for himself with the help of an eccentric mentor.” Does anyone here believe Will Smith’s kid would get bullied? And can there be anyone as fun to root against than William Zabka who will forever be known (to us, at least) as "the bad guy from The Karate Kid?

Lastly, we have to say something about the soundtrack. Are there any recording artists today that can hold a candle to Peter Cetera’s “Glory of Love” or “You’re The Best” by Joe Esposito? If John Mayer shows up on this thing somehow we're going to be mad...