'THE STARLET' How may we cross-promote Warner Bros?



Let me count the ways.
By ROBERT LLOYD
LOS ANGELES TIMES
HOLLYWOOD -- Another day, another series in which ambitious young people compete on camera for a hot job. "The Starlet," which premieres Sunday on the WB, is "American Idol" for actresses, though with the dormitory setup of "The Apprentice," etc. It's also a hard-working piece of Warner cross-promotion, up to and including the mention of "Bonnie and Clyde" (Warner Bros., 1967) in the introduction of judge Faye Dunaway.
Indeed, the series may be seen as a long, public audition for what the producers are pleased to call a "career-launching role on the WB series 'One Tree Hill.'"
They have come from here and from there to pursue a movie-star dream, which is not the same as having a burning desire to act -- though it seems likely that anyone who wanted to be a movie star would like to be a good actor in the bargain; it helps at awards time. (It is not true, however, that every actor wants to be a movie star. Some want sitcoms.)
They got game
The 10 young women who begin the game -- two go home at the end of the first episode, and so on, in the usual way, until then there'll be one -- have various levels of experience, charisma and talent, but most seem pretty sure of themselves. Some a little too sure: "There is absolutely no question in my mind, there never was, that I would be famous," says one. "I'm going to be the Starlet because I'm smart, I'm beautiful, I'm talented, and I always get what I want," says another. "I've always thought of myself as larger than life -- I've always known I'm going to be a legend," says a third. "After looking at the other women, I feel that I'm more destined to be the Starlet, because I have the entire package," says a fourth.
It's impressive in a way, being able not only to think such things but to say them out loud. And though it would be nice to believe that humility is necessary for success in this world -- it isn't. In Hollywood, it might even be liability.
Confidence soon begins to crack. In the premiere episode, having wet their whistles performing a couple of lines originally spoken by Whitney Houston in the Warner Bros. film "The Bodyguard," they visit an acting teacher who shows them how to go down into themselves and bring back tears, which they'll need later when they try on a scene from "Smallville," a series that, you may be surprised to learn, airs on the WB.
These "screen tests" are judged by Dunaway and her fellow jurists, casting director Joe Middleton and actress Vivica A. Fox, though Dunaway is clearly the queen bee and designated hard-nose -- the Simon Cowell. (She is sitting in the Simon Cowell right-hand seat, as well.)
I should add that, like most such shows, it's stupidly entertaining and easy to watch.