Is it wrong to have a mom-crush on Zac Efron? Yes, it is. He is somewhere around 20ish and conspicuously carries (and sometimes mistakenly flings) condoms on the red carpet at Lorax premieres. Zac could be my son. What with the unibrow. And the penchant for overdramatics. And the unwittingly whiny tone when trying to be seriously emphatic. And the unexplained burgeoning from skinnymarink little kid to hottie in the space of several days. He would fit right in here. Except for the hottie (and condoms, good God) part. There hasn’t been much burgeoning here yet.
Am I alone in thinking some of his movies were pretty good? Yes, I believe I am.
Okay, Hairspray was all in good fun. Give me that one.
His very early work in a Lifetime movie (Mr. Snark calls it Deathtime, as all movies on this network feature protagonists that are sick, dying, mourning, unfortunate, victimized or all of the above) called Miracle Run, was noteworthy. Bonus points for costarring in this one with the “Zac” of another era , the also piercingly blue eyed, former skinnymarink, Aidan Quinn. Who made my heart melt way back in the day. Before Mr. Snark was in the picture, of course. So maybe there’s a subliminally irrational connection there. And, no, I’m not drunk right now. Hard to believe, I know.
High School Musical 1 was a disappointment as it is clear he did not do his own vocals. High School Musical 2 (my personal favorite) and HSM3 get points for most improved vocals supported with something akin to desperation by an overworked smoldering stare. Bonus: he actually gets a (Disney) kiss with his then-ginch, Vanessa Whatever as part of the grand-finale-fireworks-bursting-and-lanterns-floating-in-the-sky-with-impromptu-sprinkler-romp in part 2. The only real talent in that whole series was evident in Sharpay’s brother who is probably destined to star in nothing more than a “Where are They Now?” special on VH1. Or maybe as a young Aidan Quinn in a Lifetime movie. You never know.
17 Again. Not totally terrible. Not good. The long hair required to convincingly (?) resemble/portray Matthew Perry as a teen was disappointingly distracting. And inexplicably greasy.
I am embarrassed to report that I have watched the virtually unwatchable Charlie St. Cloud on several occasions, the most recent of which was earlier today. I was shamefully busted by Mr. Snark who got a good laugh at my expense and then demanded that I hand over the remote and watch the hockey playoffs like a normal person.
I am lately becoming increasingly concerned that I may become compelled to fork over actual cash to go see Zac in that new Nicholas Sparks movie that blatantly features absolutely nothing but his t-shirt stretching biceps and dreamy demeanor. And apparently little else, as it is written by the painfully predictable Nicholas Sparks and likely is just another version of The Notebook destined to gross millions for no apparent reason. But I watch The Notebook every time it’s on TV too. Don’t even get me started on Ryan Gosling.
I’m sure there are some more Zac movies that I haven’t included on the list, but if I haven’t seen them, honestly, nobody has. And I’m going to delete Charlie St. Cloud from my DVR right now. Okay, tomorrow. Really.