Well, darlings, Hollywood’s about to get steamy again — and this time, it’s personal. United Artists (yes, that United Artists, now under Amazon MGM’s glittering umbrella) is diving back into the erotic thriller pool. And who’s leading this deliciously scandalous charge? None other than Joe Eszterhas, the mastermind who gave us that little 1992 conversation starter called “Basic Instinct.”
Word around the Chateau Marmont is that Eszterhas — never one to shy away from controversy — is pocketing a cool $4 million for what’s being whispered about as an “anti-woke” reboot. Because apparently, that’s what you pay for lightning in a bottle these days.
The original film? Oh, honey. It turned Sharon Stone into an overnight sensation, though she’ll be the first to tell you it wasn’t exactly a smooth ride to the top. “I was the 13th choice,” she confessed to THR recently. The script apparently lived on top of her refrigerator for eight months — which, let’s be honest, is probably the most LA story ever told.
Remember that interrogation scene? Of course you do. It launched a thousand think pieces and made crossing legs a cultural moment. The film raked in $353 million worldwide, the kind of number that makes studio executives weak in the knees even now.
This new version’s got some serious muscle behind it. Scott Stuber (currently shepherding Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein” through development) is teaming up with Nick Nesbit and Craig Baumgarten. Adam Griffin’s taking the executive producer’s chair — though honestly, in 2025, who can keep track of all these titles?
They’re keeping the plot under wraps tighter than a Beverly Hills facelift, but that “anti-woke” whisper has certainly set tongues wagging at Soho House. Whatever they’re cooking up, it’ll need to make the original look like a Disney+ special to get anyone’s attention these days.
Look, we’ve been burned before. Remember 2006’s “Basic Instinct 2”? The less said about that particular misadventure, the better. It bombed harder than a Netflix stand-up special during awards season.
But something feels different this time around. Maybe it’s having Eszterhas back at his typewriter (yes, darlings, some dinosaurs still roam among us). Maybe it’s the desperate need for grown-up fare that doesn’t involve spandex or space lasers. Or maybe — just maybe — we’re ready for another cocktail of sex, power, and moral ambiguity that doesn’t come with a trigger warning.
The million-dollar question (or rather, the $4 million question) is who’ll step into those iconic stilettos. Stone’s return remains a tantalizing possibility, but whoever takes on the role will need more than just screen presence. They’ll need to capture lightning in a bottle while tap-dancing on a knife’s edge.
In Hollywood, we call that Tuesday. In 2025, we call it a comeback.
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