I caught the last half of Next Stop Wonderland, which was released back in ‘98 but which I did not rush right out and see at the time for some reason, last night. Let me just say, first of all: she should have gone to Brazil, because if there were a Wonderland II, Orange Line (Next stop: Roxbury Crossing!), Hope Davis would have found that the dude whose armpit she wound up in (the actor’s name is Cheeseman, for chrissake) was a freakin crystal meth addict who was going to end up stealing her paychecks and blowing all their income on cross-dressing prostitutes he’s picked up at Jacques, thus forcing them to live two blocks from Jackson Square.

I did find the scene where she finally meets Mr. He’ll-Have-To-Do fairly accurate, I have to say. She’s on her way to the airport via blue line train, to catch a flight to São Paulo with some guy (well, not just some guy–the muito delicioso José Zúñiga, for the love of pete) she met only a couple days before. But she’s got misgivings. See, he’s a little too something for her. You know, his je ne sais quoi is off the charts. Mostly what he had too much of, seemed like to me, was sex appeal. Because everyone else in this movie was just utterly Blah. Ol’ hopeless Hope could’ve used someone like José to find her freak switch, and flip it on for her. Instead, she finds herself in thin-lipped Cheeseman’s armpit, totally intoxicated by his cheesiness, apparently, and they run off to Revere Beach together. Now, that’s romance!

Anyway, what I found accurate, as I was saying, was when she’s on the blue line train, before ending up in Cheeseman’s armpit, and she looks around at all the people crowded into it during the morning rush hour, and it’s like the train of the living dead. I thought, right on. That’s it. You look around on the T and that’s just what you see. Zombies. Thinking to themselves: “why can’t I just die, already?”

And then she runs off with one of the living dead, to have zombie crack babies (hey, that’d be a great name for a band, don’t you think?)! And José finds another blonde on the plane to make eyes at and serenade with samba. All’s well that ends well.