This story will presumably one day be funny and thus worthy of inclusion in a “Snide Remarks” column, so I don’t want to spoil it by sharing too many potentially amusing details here. But this is the gist of the story so far:

- After I wrecked my car last month, a faithful reader and friend offered me her 1994 Geo Prizm for free. The only condition? I’d have to fly to Ohio to get it.

- This was unbelievably generous of her, and I am forever grateful. I hasten to point out that none of the problems I’ve had subsequently have been the car’s fault.

- I flew to Ohio late Wednesday night, arriving early Thursday morning. I recuperated a bit, then hit the road, staying in Kansas City, Mo., Thursday night.

- I planned to make it to Ft. Collins, Co., by Friday night, and stay with a friend there. Under good conditions, the drive from KC to Denver is about eight hours.

- As I progressed westward in Colorado, however, and the sun went down, the roads became icy, slick, and steep. (Well, I guess they were steep in the daytime, too.)

- I got a flat tire. (OK, maybe kind of the car’s fault, but keep reading.) In trying to change it — in the zero-degree weather on the side of the road on I-70 — I discovered that the rim was rusted on to the axle. It WOULD NOT COME OFF. I banged, pried, kicked, leveraged, yelled, and prayed, all to no avail.

- Eventually I gave up and called for a tow truck.

- After an hour or so, a state trooper pulled up and reported that he had ordered all tow trucks off the roads. They (the roads) were too perilous and icy, and it wasn’t worth it. He gave me a ride into the nearest town, Limon, about 15 miles away, and I stayed at the Econo Lodge Friday night.

- This morning, a tow truck hauled my vehicle into Limon. On the way out to where my car had been left, we saw about a dozen cars stuck on the median or off on the side, having skidded off the road last night. I’m convinced that NOT changing my tire was the best option for me. Had I changed it, I’d have gone on my merry way toward Denver and maybe wound up upside-down somewhere, like so many other drivers did. At least the recalcitrant tire got me off the road.

- I had four new tires put on the car (it needed them, and I didn’t want to press my luck) and went on my way.

- I took I-70 into Denver, then I-25 north to Cheyenne, Wyo., where I met I-80 and headed west through Wyoming.

- At Laramie, I-80 was closed. That’s it, just closed. Bad weather ahead, and the entire state of Wyoming is located in the middle of nowhere, so no driving.

- I headed back east, thinking I might go back to Ft. Collins to stay with the friend I had originally planned to stay with Friday night, only I couldn’t get a hold of him. Not wanting to drive all the way and be unable to find him, I stopped in Cheyenne, where I am now staying at the lovely Super 8 motel.

- With the cost of the tow, the tires, and the two unplanned nights at hotels, the trip has now cost about $500 more than I expected. Still quite a bargain for a perfectly functional car, of course, but nonetheless, $500 more than expected. So now would be an excellent time to buy that merchandise you’ve had your eye on all this time!

- Cheyenne has a lot of truckers, more so tonight because of the road closure, and I do not like truckers. They say “he don’t” when they mean “he doesn’t,” for example. Surely you can see how I would be unpleased to be here.

Thanks in advance for your well wishes, thoughts, and prayers. I look forward to being on Portland roads again, which though they may be rain-soaked, at least are not icy, closed, or in Wyoming.

I will be taking a hiatus from reviewing movies. But do not be alarmed! The hiatus will only last for the month of January.

You are still alarmed? Please do not be. I did some checking. Of all the films I’ve reviewed (almost 1,900 now), 42 percent have gotten a grade of B or better. But of all the films I’ve reviewed that premiered in January, only 11 percent have scored B or better — and not one has gotten an A or A-. (Many very good films open in December in select cities and then spread out in January, so you might think they are January premieres, but they are not. They are December premieres, and are usually reviewed in December.)

January is the dumping ground. Movie attendance is generally low anyway, what with the holidays over and the money gone and the sense of “now we have to get back to real life” taking over America. So the studios perpetuate the cycle by releasing their lamest films in January, and hence January is the optimal month to take a hiatus, if a hiatus must be taken.

And I do believe a hiatus must be taken. I’m not getting burnt-out, particularly, but I have been frustrated lately by another problem. There are many, many films I have never seen, including quite a few that by all rights I SHOULD have seen. I would love to watch these movies — but when I’m reviewing six or seven new releases a week (plus performing my various other gotta-pay-the-bills duties), when is there time to pop in a DVD and watch something just for pleasure?

So I’ll still be watching a lot of movies in January — they just won’t be the new releases invading your local theaters. I’ve made a list of movies I want to see, and I’ll be Netflixing them throughout the month, and then in smaller doses throughout the year. I’m really looking forward to it.

Will I write reviews of these older movies? Most likely not. I might blog about the process now and then. But one of the purposes of the hiatus is to give myself a break from writing movie reviews every day. Writing takes a lot of time, and the whole point here is to spend less time writing and more time watching movies. Besides, honestly, what could I possibly have to say about “MASH” (1970) that has not already been said?

“In the Dark” will continue to be published. It will have the DVD release info and box office scores and everything else, along with reviews of any new releases that I happened to have screened before Jan. 1, or that I was assigned to review by Salt Lake City Weekly, where I am a contributor. (That’s how the occasional January premiere might slip in.) And I’m going to the Sundance Film Festival (Jan. 18-28), as usual, and will do my customary daily reportage from there.

So all is not lost. On Friday, Feb. 2, everything will be back to normal. Not that February is much better for movies than January, but hey, I’m sure you’ll want to know what I think of “Ghost Rider,” i.e., how bad it is.

This has not been an easy week for reviewing movies.

On Monday, as I drove from my apartment to catch a screening of “We Are Marshall” (opening next week), a BMW smashed into me and totaled my car. Nobody was hurt, but I missed the movie.

Then last night, I arrived at the Lloyd Center Cinemas for a screening of “Eragon,” only to find that the theater was without electricity. A very windy and rainy storm had hit Portland and had knocked out their power. Unfortunately, “Eragon” requires electricity to be exhibited — it is not a gas-powered movie — and so the screening was off.

So I killed time elsewhere for a while before returning home to finish my other reviews and complete the print and podcast versions of “In the Dark.” I get home and discover the entire section of North Portland where I live is without power. About 2,600 customers, according to the automated message on Portland General Electric’s hotline. I couldn’t write the reviews (no computer, and not enough candlelight to write them longhand), couldn’t finish “In the Dark,” couldn’t watch TV, couldn’t do ANYTHING. I finally walked to a bar & grill down the street that still had power, where I ate a hamburger and read a book. They had wi-fi, but even if I’d used my laptop, it would have been to no avail, as everything I needed was on my desktop. I went to bed at about midnight, and the power came back on around 2, I think.

All of the above is why:

- The reviews of “The Pursuit of Happyness” and “Charlotte’s Web” were late in being posted.

- “In the Dark” was late in being e-mailed to you.

- There is no “Eragon” review. I plan to catch it this afternoon and post a review this weekend. (Also, just so you know, I haven’t heard a single good thing about it. Not that this will prevent me from seeing it with an open mind, only that if you MUST run out and watch it today, you might think twice about it.)

- There is no “In the Dark” podcast this week. I got up early this morning to finish everything, but there just isn’t time to do a podcast, as I have to leave shortly for a press screening and hopefully an “Eragon.”

It is funny to realize that even in 2006, we are still subject to the whims of nature, and to BMWs.

If you’re going to get into a car accident, as I did tonight, the best place to do it, as I did tonight, is in the street right outside your apartment. That way, even if your car is no longer drivable, as mine is not, at least you don’t have to call a tow truck. You can just push it back to the curb where you normally park it, and where it had been parked 13 seconds earlier.

(Answers to follow-up questions: No one was hurt, the airbags didn’t even deploy, I only have liability coverage for my clunker car, my car had much worse damage that the BMW that hit me, and I don’t know whose fault it will turn out to have been. I say it’s his, but he technically had the right-of-way, so who knows.)

Martin Scorsese makes films often enough that a new one isn’t an “event,” exactly, but it does pique a film lover’s interest, especially in an otherwise dry season. “The Departed” is a great movie, nearly as good (but not quite) as Scorsese’s “Goodfellas” and “Taxi Driver.”

Even better: It’s set in Boston, with lots of thick, juicy Boston accents. The title itself is actually pronounced “The De-pah-ted.” Say it! It’s fun!

Among the wide releases, that’s the only good news I have for you, unless a confirmation of your suspicions is considered good news. If it is, then you’ll be pleased to know that “Employee of the Month” and “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning” are, in fact, as bad as you thought they would be.

The latter was not screened until last night, to avoid opening-day reviews while also avoiding the stigma of not having a screening at all. This is standard operating procedure these days for horror films. In fact, plenty of horror films DON’T have screenings, or when they do, they don’t tell critics about them. But we were actually invited to last night’s last-minute screening, so kudos to New Line for that.

As for “Employee of the Month,” well, interesting story. I e-mailed the publicist last week to see when screenings would be, and she said there weren’t going to be any. It turns out this is what we in the business call a “lie,” because in fact there were two screenings, one last Thursday and one this past Wednesday. I knew about the Wednesday one because there was an ad in one of the local weekly papers telling people where they could pick up their free passes to it.

Note to publicists: If you tell us there isn’t a screening, we’ll be more likely to believe you if you don’t also take out an ad in the paper saying there is.

Anyway, now that I’ve seen the film, I can understand why they tried to hide its existence from critics, the same way poor Leatherface’s mama tossed him in a trash bin after birthing him on the floor of a slaughterhouse (sorry for the “Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning” spoilers there).

Among smaller releases, there is a documentary you should be aware of called “Jesus Camp,” about evangelical Christians and their children. One of my fellow critics was raised in such a family — Pentecostal, “holy roller,” whatever your preferred terminology is — and he said watching the film definitely hit home. (He has since left the faith.) He speculated beforehand that I, having been raised Mormon, might see some of my own childhood in the movie. I said, “From what I know of the movie, I think it’s the way people think Mormons are, but not how they actually are.”

That turned out to be fairly accurate. I saw a few parallels in the way the evangelicals teach their children and the way Mormons do, but not many. The film depicts the kids, all under age 12, as being awfully intense about their faith, weeping and hollering and speaking in tongues at prayer meetings the way their parents do. In interviews, they talk as seriously as any grown-up would. I kept thinking: Where is the FUN in this childhood?

For as weird as people think Mormons are, the children’s programs in the church are pretty normal. You sing songs teaching very basic ideas (God loves you, be more like Jesus, be nice to others, etc.), you sing other songs just for fun, and you learn child-sized bits of doctrine (see previous: God, Jesus, nice, etc.).

The youth minister in the movie preaches against the evils of most popular culture, saying “had it been in the Old Testament, Harry Potter would have been PUT TO DEATH!” The only real parallel to my childhood that I could think of was a woman telling us that arcade games (this was the era of Pac-Man) were of the devil — but this was a woman everyone, our parents included, thought was a fanatical crazy person.

Then there’s a scene where a bunch of the boys, about 10 years old, are in their cabin at Bible camp, laughing and telling ghost stories and just being boys. One of the adult counselors comes in and says he doesn’t think ghost stories “honor God” and maybe they shouldn’t tell them. I thought of the camp-outs I went on as a kid. Did anyone ever tell us not to tell ghost stories? Or did they JUST LEAVE US ALONE AND LET US BE KIDS, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD?! I believe it was the latter.

There’s an article in today’s New York Times (free registration might be required) about how evangelical Christians fear they’re losing their teenagers. What’s interesting is that as my aforementioned critic friend and I left the screening of “Jesus Camp,” he said, “You know, those kids are gonna grow up, and they’re going to be mad, and they’re going to leave the church.” I could see what he meant, and the Times story seems to confirm it. Creating such an intense, un-fun atmosphere for kids when they’re supposed to be enjoying their childhood could make them turn bitter later on. I understand wanting to teach them good Christian principles, but maybe there is such a thing as over-doing it.

Anyway, anyone with a Christian background will probably find the film interesting and provocative. Keep an eye out for when it opens in your area.

As always, you’ll find these reviews and much, much more fabulous information in this week’s “In the Dark,” a weekly e-zine chock-full of such things. Do sign up, won’t you?

‘Twas a swell birthday I had Saturday, a swell birthday indeed. To my Jehovah’s Witness friends, of whom I have none, let me say that you don’t know what you’re missing.

The morning mail arrived with two items. One was an envelope bearing a card accompanied by a check for a generous sum of money. This was from my parents. The other was a large package from my friend Lisa Valentine Clark, member of the Garrens Comedy Troupe (back in the day) and a funny, lovely woman. The package contained: a box of Wheat Thins, a box of Chocolate Fudge Pop-Tarts, a bag of Oreos, a container of the Wal-Mart store brand of little chocolate donuts, and a loaf of Grandma Sycamore’s white bread. You wonder what these items have in common, and it is this: They are my very favorite TV-watchin’ foods! Lisa Valentine Clark has watched countless hours of TV with me, so she knows which snacks I favor.

(You are perhaps also thinking: Grandma Sycamore’s white bread? What, does Eric just sit there and eat plain, unadorned bread, right out of the bag? The answer is yes, yes he does. It is delicious. And to both predict and answer you next question, yes, the Wal-Mart store brand of little chocolate donuts is my favorite, even better than Hostess. They are fresh, moist, and have just a hint of dark chocolate. They are divine.)

At 11 a.m., I had lunch at Typhoon in downtown Portland with my friend Rob. I had rarely eaten Thai food before Rob started making me do it a year or so ago, and now I like it very much. I like it especially when someone else is paying for it. And I believe it is best to eat at Typhoon as often as possible now, before a massively destructive typhoon strikes someone in the world, kills thousands, and renders the restaurant’s name distasteful.

Later in the afternoon, I paid a visit to my friend and movie-critic colleague Dawn Taylor. Dawn used to be a pastry chef, and she had kindly volunteered to bake me a birthday cake, from scratch, using the finest recipe she could discover. I gave her only my very basic cake guidelines — chocolate, and no nuts of any kind — and off she went.

The finished product was a devil’s food item, and to reiterate, it was made completely by hand from scratch. It is without hyperbole that I say it was the single most delightful thing I have ever put in my mouth. Moist (but not too moist), dense (but not too dense), chocolatey (but not too sweet), and baked to complete perfection. I wish I could share it with all of you. In fact, the next day, when it was gone due to my eating it and sharing it with others, I wished, addict-like, that I could have more, more, MORE of it. Regardless of what sins Dawn may have committed in her life — and boy howdy, that’s a long list — I am confident she will go to heaven despite them, based solely on the merits of this cake.

I enjoyed a slice with Dawn and her husband, then went to dinner with my friends Mark & Mark (but not the Funky Bunch). They had left choosing the restaurant to me, and as they are both prosperous and generous, I knew the sky was the limit, menu-wise. Yet I am a man with simple tastes. In discussing our dining options with Mark, I said, “You know, I actually would really just like to go to the Outback, but I’m afraid you’ll make fun of me. You guys are all hip and trendy, and the Outback is so ordinary. Are you going to mock me behind my back? ‘Oh, the Outback? What, was Olive Garden closed? Couldn’t get a reservation at Red Lobster?’” Mark assured me that such was not the case, and that he and Mark sometimes eat at the Outback themselves (but not, I am given to understand, Olive Garden or Red Lobster).

It was a fine, steaky dinner at Outback, and then we went home to eat more of Dawn’s cake, then to digest a bit before heading out for a night on the town, the town in this case being Portland.

Somewhere in all that, my parents and my sister and one of my brothers called. Two other brothers and a sister were in absentia, though I’m sure their birthday wishes for me were implied. A few friends called with greetings, while others e-mailed or sent MySpace messages. The friends who failed to remember it was my birthday, despite my having remembered theirs, will forever live in the toxic cloud of my smugness.

But truly, it’s nice to feel loved and appreciated now and then, to have all these people in your life, some of whom only flit in and out occasionally, step up one day out of the year and make you feel all fuzzy inside. It is also nice when they mail you food, or make food for you, or take you to a restaurant and pay for your food.

No Friday movie roundup this week, not because I forgot to do it (like I did a few weeks ago), but because I am swamped with other writing projects that require immediate completion. Nothing interesting, believe me, or even particularly profitable. Just necessary.

I have just enough time to plug “In the Dark,” a weekly e-mail of all the latest reviews, DVD releases and other film-related merriment. It is free and you should subscribe to it.

And now I must labor on dull, unprofitable writing projects that I should not have committed to in the first place. Excelsior!

A few concerned readers wondered whether my column “I Was a Junket Whore,” in which I discussed the wasteful and elaborate means by which movie studios secure fluffy news coverage, would have any repercussions for me. I figured the worst that could happen is I wouldn’t get invited to any more publicity junkets (where you interview the cast and director), which is fine, because I wouldn’t want to go anyway.

But no! Paramount Pictures has gone a step further. They have barred me from all Paramount press screenings. And Allied Advertising, the Seattle branch of which handles Paramount screenings in my area, has decided (no doubt under pressure from Paramount) to ban me from screenings for the other studios it represents, too.

Now, it’s not as bad as it sounds. The studios affected are Paramount, Weinstein Co., Dimension and Miramax. The bigger ones — Warner Bros., Universal, 20th Century Fox, etc. — are handled by different P.R. agencies in Seattle and Portland, so they’re not involved. For the studios that are affected, it means that while in the past I’ve been able to go to advance screenings and run my reviews on opening day, now I may not be able to see the films until they open, meaning my reviews may be a day or two late. But again, it’s not that many movies that will actually be affected.

It’s amusing that Paramount’s response to my airing their dirty laundry is to ban me from their screenings. Has my reliability or professionalism as a film critic been called into question? No; they just don’t like that I made fun of their junket system, the inner workings of which are apparently some kind of secret. In my conversation with the Seattle publicist — who I like and who was just reporting what she’d been told — there was no mention that I had broken a specific rule or violated any contract. Paramount had never said, “Don’t write articles making fun of our junkets.” So banning me from screenings is entirely retributive: We’re mad at you, and this is how we’re going to punish you.

After “World Trade Center” (which was the focus of the junket I attended), Paramount’s next release is “Jackass: Number Two,” the further adventures of Johnny Knoxville and his friends stapling things to themselves while wearing jock straps. So you can see why Paramount would want people to take the studio seriously.

UPDATE: I had suspected this, but now I have it confirmed: Paramount wants me to remove the article from my site — but even if I do, I still won’t be invited to screenings. But they want me to take it down anyway. Why on earth would I remove the article if doing so would benefit me in no way whatsoever? That question seems to have evaded them. (I probably wouldn’t do it anyway, but if removing it would get me reinstated, I would at least think about it for a few minutes before saying no.)

So the other day I was at my new favorite cafe/office, The Fresh Pot, clacking away on my laptop and enjoying a tasty mug of hot white chocolate, when a man approached me and said, “Can I ask you about your laptop? Is that a new design?”

Now, I had noticed the man before, sitting at an adjacent table and clacking away on his own laptop, the very latest model from Apple. My computer, on the other hand, was an Apple iBook in the classic “clamshell” style, purchased in January 2001 and now fast approaching the end of its life. (Don’t worry, I have a lovely desktop model at home that I use for most of my computing. The laptop is only for when I’m at the office.)

I told the guy, “No, actually, it’s quite old. I bought it five years ago. I don’t think they even make these anymore.” (Subsequent research confirmed that they discontinued the product about six months after I bought mine.)

He was quite taken with the nifty design, though, and I realized my computer is so old, it’s “retro.” Maybe people will start buying these old iBooks in thrift stores and the Salvation Army and carry them around with their “vintage” clothes and ironic old slogan-bearing T-shirts.

In other words, maybe my crappy old laptop is so old, it’s cool again. Hooray for me!

Just wanted to let you know that I’m dying again. I came home Friday night from an evening of frivolity with my friend Rob, and I was feeling just a tickle of a sore throat. I said, “Hmm. I hope I’m not coming down with something.”

Well, coming down with something I most certainly was. It hit me like a ton of crap while I was sleeping Friday night: sore throat, headache, fever, chills, despair, sense of impending doom, freaky dreams you only have when you’re sick, the whole nine yards.

I spent most of the weekend in bed, though I was able to get up now and then to shuffle around the house and perform a few non-labor-intensive tasks like checking my e-mail and watching TV. Today (Monday) I believe I am on the mend, and I have been tended to by my friend Luscious Malone, who brought me some of that magic soup where you just microwave the little can it comes in and sip it, no spoon required.

Do you find that no matter how old you are, or how far away you live, your first instinct when you get sick is to call your mom? Mine is. I usually don’t call, though, because then she’ll just feel sorry for me and worry about me, and who needs that? But if we lived in the same city, I can assure you, I’d be at her house, lying on her couch, making her wait on me hand and foot until I was better.