2008 / Jon Avnet > It might be a tad bit unfair for having such high expectations for this film just because of Robert DeNiro and Al Pacino, but that’s just the way it is. For us to have waited this long for the duo to appear on the same screen, this is an atrocity. It’s a tough task for Avnet, no doubt, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that the sole purpose of the film is to misdirect the viewer. Nothing else. No story, no morality, no nothing. Not to mention boring. The faults here must come from all-around. I mean, seriously, I can’t imagine the script sounding even remotely good for both of these legends to jump onto it? It’s best to erase this from our memories and hope for another hurrah from the two.

2008 / M. Night Shyamalan > Obvious, insulting and intensely disappointing in that we may have the technical skills of such a crafty director wasted by his delusions of grandeur. Everything Shyamalan has done since The Sixth Sense has been filled with a sense of greatness that simply isn’t there. I excused both Unbreakable (because on a small scale, it made sense to me) and Signs (because I gave it the benefit of the doubt), but the last three have gone further into the ground in insulting the viewer’s intelligence. The Happening is ridiculous in its message, the way that a kindergarten student would tell an adult to not waste electricity. The script and acting? Just leave this one alone.

2008 / Roland Emmerich > Talk about making Apocalypto look like a bloody masterpiece. 10,000 BC is a ridiculous waste of a $105mn budget even if the CGI looks fantastic. The pacing is atrocious, the editing is sloppy and the story is silly. Throw in the beautiful Camille Belle, all you have here is eye candy and nothing else. Probably a great thing to put on the television while you vacuum.

2007 / Jim Wynorski > “What’s that?” The magical phrase is, according to the director Wynorski’s count, uttered at least 18 times in the film. What could that be? It’s sheer brilliance, I tell you. From the opening deaths of idyllic teenagers lost in the arid caves of Utah, I knew I was in for a special treat. It didn’t mean much that the film echoed scenes from the famed Jurassic Park contemporary Carnosaur—these were obviously of much higher budget, especially when the screen turns green to identify with the raptors’ point of view. (Yes, that was plural. There are multiple raptors in the film! Have you invited your friends over yet?!)

Wynorski, also known as Jay Andrews and H. R. Blueberry, is the man behind a substantial amount of late night Cinemax classics such as Alabama Jones and the Busty Crusade and The Bare Wench Project. In Raptor, he hones his technical mastery with the help of master filmmaker Roger Corman. The final product is a seamless composite of what feels like three, four or even five films! But in reality, it is only one. Anyone who has told you otherwise has been deceived into belittling the good names of Wynorski and Corman. Why else would Golden Globe-nominated Corbin Bernsen take a key role as the evil Mr. Hyde?

I do have a minor complaint: Blonde bombshell Melissa Brasselle (who is currently starring in Danny Bonaduce’s VH1 cult-hit I Know My Kid’s a Star) is a bit of a distraction from the glorious beauty of the raptors. For some reason, Wynorski strategically decided to utilize her in rather tight-fitting outfits and in scandalous positions, often opposite the splendid Eric Roberts. Roberts, by the way, hasn’t been this spot on since the original Best of the Best. The manner in which he battles the alpha raptor in the end makes Sigourney Weaver look like an absolute chump in Aliens. “Take that, Barney!” might be one of the most important lines of our lifetime, as many of us grew up thinking and wanting to do similar violent acts to our purple-furred friend.

What Spielberg started, Wynorski and Corman have finished. There can be no other film about raptors after this. It is conclusive evidence that we should not meddle with our genes or stem cell research because all it will do is kill the neighborhood kids, your daughter’s boyfriend, your co-worker, that guy who drives the truck full of chickens across state borders so that illegally implanted raptor babies can be kept in a cage away from society, Corbin Bernsen and lots of really mean looking military guys. Raptor is a cinematic achievement that parallels Fellini’s 8&#189 in innovation, and supercedes the science-fiction philosophy of 2001. (It’s also better than many films that don’t contain numbers in their titles.) Thanks for the recommendation Lucid Screening.

2008 / Doug Liman > It didn’t bother me when Liman said in an interview that Jumper was the final part of his “sell-out trilogy.” After all, both The Bourne Identity and Mr. & Mrs. Smith were relatively smart, enjoyable fares. But apparently he was setting up the pre-emptive strike on a piece of shit: How Liman took a brilliant premise and muddled it into an episode of The O.C. (Rachel Bilson included) with intriguing yet ignored sci-fi elements is beyond me. What really, absolutely kills it: The sequel is in the works. This act of hypocrisy almost single-handedly negates the goodwill from Swingers and the rather underrated Go and turns Liman into a poseur until proven otherwise.

2007 / Ethan Hawke > I’m not sure if Hawke’s novel is this moody and petty, but the film adaptation of The Hottest State is dreadfully painful to sit through. Neither lead characters give a reason to care, and the script lacks any sort of direction or wonder to hook onto. Films about heartbreak always walk a thin line between self-indulgence and an objective disposition, and this one gorges itself in the former.