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John Lyttle on film

Stars - troublesome creatures. Always demanding more money, bigger trailers, higher billing, personal make-up and hair and costume people, and first-class airline tickets to ship them from Beverly Hills to whichever far-flung location. And all because they're box-office, can "open" a movie, so the first weekend on release doesn't leave everyone with omelette (egg whites only, with scallions) on their face-lifts.

Listen up: there is a solution. Wave farewell to the flesh, say hello to computer-generation, animation, hyper-reality. Consider this: who was the star of The Lawnmower Man? Not Pierce Brosnan but the morphing, mega- bitten FX. Jurassic Park: did you rush to see Jeff Goldblum, or gaze upon the majestic might of the dinosaurs? And, gazing, did you wonder which was the extinct species - the scaly giants or the puny humans, so pale and uninteresting in comparsion with the T Rex and his raptor friends? Hollywood certainly did. Sexy Rexy, baby, might bite off your head and the raptors might rip out your guts, but at least they didn't have agents and demand pounds 13 million up front and 10 per cent of the gross.

Which is partially why we have Disney's Toy Story (right); completely computer-generated it means everyone on screen does what they're told - just like the Little Mermaid, Aladdin, the Lion King and Beauty and her Beast. Adorable plastic personalities who don't mind being merchandised, don't bitch about their PR, and who'll never, never, never be caught with a prostitute's head in their lap. Unless it's the sort of blow job that actually involves blowing them up....