According to The Wall Street Journal, a backlash is brewing in Hollywood against the plastic-surgery trend. So many faces are Restylane-paralyzed and collagen-puffed, casting directors are reportedly having a tough time finding actors who look their age, let alone sitcom stars whose faces aren't too frozen to frown, make funny faces or register surprise. As a result, the new buzzword in Tinseltown is authenticity. I must admit that I'm enjoying the irony in all this. First actresses mutilate themselves to meet market demand, and then they discover they're no longer marketable.

The "Botox crisis," as it's been dubbed, is particularly dire in TV, where frequent close-ups put faces under the microscope, and high-definition programming and flat screens magnify scars and pulled skin. Finding a face that hasn't been sliced, diced or cryogenically preserved is reportedly so difficult, some networks are ramping up their casting calls in England and Canada, where more actors still own the faces they were born with.

I realize that Hollywood's a notoriously insular place; still, one of the things that leapt out at me reading the Journal article was how clueless showbiz insiders appeared to be about the fact that not everybody has bought into this trend. It was as if studio execs had had an epiphany and suddenly noticed what the rest of us have been watching in horrified fascination for years, namely that their industry's slavish worship of cosmetic "enhancements" has spawned a generation of sideshow freaks.

"What's really jarring is that some of these people are not very old," said one casting director.

"Frozen isn't funny," said another. "Botox used to be less noticeable but high-def has changed that. Now half the time the injectibles are so distracting we don't even notice the acting," said a network president.

To which all I can add is, No shit, Sherlock.

I suspect there's a lesson in all this about the wisdom of staying true to oneself, and the perils of blindly following a trend. Because, as trends go, this one reeks of desperation. And any way you slice, peel or cut it, desperation isn't pretty.