Something is happening in the entertainment industry. It all started last week with the one-off return of the This Life gang. The law-practising housemates in this cutting edge BBC drama were late 20s, dysfunctional, drunk and promiscuous - you did rather wonder how they managed to fit any law in, actually.

In this one-off special they were late 30s, dysfunctional, drunk and promiscuous, but had added in bankruptcy, literary fame, cod-spirituality and baby hunger to their repertoire. And awful dancing. And see, even knocking 40, they were all still rather attractive. Well, if you were drunk. Which they were. So that was all right.

Anyway, continuing this theme, January sees the release of Rocky Balboa, a new film in the hugely popular Rocky franchise. With Sylvester Stallone over 60 now, one might have expected them to drag in a hot young talent and summon up a prequel, but no! It's old Sly himself reprising the role of the boxer with a mouth (but also a glove) full of ball bearings.

Thankfully, reviews suggest we don't have to endure the sort of soft focus shots and challenges to credulity that films so often ask of their audiences when they opt for a senior star (I'm naming no names, Robert Redford). The film acknowledges that Rocky is getting on a bit and follows him, years after his success in the ring, retired, widowed, estranged from his son and running a deli (going one better than George Foreman, who only has a Lean Mean Fat-Reducing Grilling Machine).

For some reason - could it be the daily grind of slipping sun dried tomatoes into grilled pancetta?- Rocky decides to have one last shot in the ring and squares up to the current heavyweight champion. And never mind the grey chest hair.

And, in the words of fingerless gloves wearing 80s funnyman Jimmy Cricket (don't worry, he's not coming back), there's more.

If rumours are to be believed (and they are, otherwise what's the point of reading magazines?), Harrison Ford will be reprising his role as the archaeology lecturer-cum-boulder dodger in the fourth Indiana Jones film, with the action skipped forward 10 years. This is actually quite generous (it's been 17 years since Ford last donned the dusty hat), but I applaud the move to get the oldies back in the action. As long as they don't let them do their own stunts.

In fact, now that Hollywood has accepted that there is life after 35, I'd like to see some female leads reprise their roles.

We could have Carrie Fisher as Princess Leia, 30 years on, and still working that doughnut hairstyle. Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman back to fight crime in her splendid headband (though maybe not the hot pants). And, well, Thelma and Louise might have made a decent sequel, if the strong, gutsy female characters hadn't (and if you haven't seen it yet, look away) plunged to their deaths off a cliff top.

And . . . hmm, well, I can't think of any more. That's the problem with a run of reprised female lead roles. We'd need to have had a decent run of strong, memorable female leads, first.