Charlie St. Cloud looks like a hot, treacly mess. I’m sorry: Playing softball with a dead child and sailing along the coast while looking wistfully at the sky… pardon my vomit. So after this cloying and sentimental claptrap opens and closes this weekend, how should Zac proceed? An indie film? A hip-as-fuck Kick Ass-type superhero role? An intelligent, big-budget, Inception-like thriller? NOPE. He’s partnering up with Nicholas Sparks for an adaptation of his greeting card novel The Lucky One. What? Stop. Let me spell it out for you: HE’S FOLLOWING UP THE SHMALTZY, GOOEY MESS OF CHARLIE ST CLOUD BY WORKING WITH THE KING OF SHMALTZY GOOEY MESSES, NICHOLAS SPARKS. Yes, the same insipid twat who hoisted Dear John, The Notebook, Nights in Rodanthe and A Walk to Remember upon the world. The man who once compared himself to Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripedes, Jane Austin AND Ernest Hemingway. Zac! Zac! Zac! NO! At some point you have to trust yourself enough to ween yourself away from the sure-fire audience of 14-year-old girls. Trust that if the vehicle is right and the performance is solid, an adult audience will accept you. PLEASE LISTEN TO ME. Run as far away from this drippy cheezeball as you can! Call your old friend Leo and have him map out a plan for you. Leo made interesting choices at every stage of his career! LOOK TO LEO, ZAC! (via Deadline NY)