watched: definitely, maybe.  i do some projects because they’re the right people, at the right time, for the right money, and i give almost no thought to the body of work i leave behind; this is particularly easy in my case because most of my designs and compositions are heard during a show’s run and not again.  but sometimes imdb turns up such gems that you can’t help considering, charting, say, the artistic path from french kiss, through practical magic to wimbledon, bridget jones 2, and now definitely, maybe, all written by adam brooks, this film’s director.  someday, with all the zeal of the cineaste, i’ll screen the collected works of these writers and directors behind forgettably charming romcoms, analysing their every nuance and giving them the kind of attention they deserve, or think they deserve, or wish they deserved.  maybe i’ll open up shop somewhere at a small-town midwestern university and make a little industry out of postironic film criticism of this sort, feeding the kids delillo and coupland books whenever they seem too comfortable.  we’ll publish a journal that compares and contrasts marisa tomei in only you and in untamed heart, that highlights guess who’s subtle shot-for-shot perversion of stanley kramer’s classic, and that unearths and repopularises gems like truly, madly, deeply.  i’ll marry a fat-fingered graduate student who is writing her dissertation on the unaired episodes of my sister sam and we’ll have cats, lots of cats, and toxoplasma gondii.  and schizophrenia.  in short, definitely, maybe, is a movie that will totally give you schizophrenia.  don’t watch it.  and don’t worry about thanking me – you’re welcome.