Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs, this year's crop of potential fall favorites, this pie of garbage gang cinematic goulash, is utter fucking putrescence.  A recycling bin of Twilight Ninja Assassins not fit for TNT (They know drama.).  Of course, the studio will market all of them all as future entries into the National Film Registry, but who in their right Avatar can honestly look at the offerings and not find the whole thing wanting?  This Is It, they tell us, shoving Michael Jackson back down our throats before the maggots have even chewed off his epidermis, but mark my words, it will hail IX Fantastic Foxes upon Jennifer's Body until we all have rabies and start writing Make-A-Wish letters to Pixar asking for two flicks a year.  The Youth Is In Revolt, The Men Who Stare At Goats are pleading for you to Whip It, whip it good, and we, as downtrodden cinemagoers are just taking it--like that guy from the Taking Back Sunday song who apologies for bleeding on her shirt (after she slit his throat).  Well, fuck the Morgans (not Dexter) and fuck the Women In Trouble.  Cinema Blend may have given you reasons to be excited about all this shit, all this huxtable, but I'm here to tell you Jim Carrey can't reinvent Scrooge, and the beer in hell is watery and thick, might even have Rookie Of The Year cum in it.


Sorority Row: The first time Luke's sister played a gun-toting psychopath assassin, it was sort of cute and folksy and somehow worked in The Blues Brothers.  And even though Rex Reed will probably call it a brilliant commentary on the vapid indulgences of the postmodern horror film, I can guaran-fucking-tee it will be awful.  A killer is on the loose, terrorizing a sorority and panning the camera over to properly close-up those supple d-cups.  That's art, baby.  Author's Note: This whole thing would be better as a Cold Case Files episode about Ted Bundy.

I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell: Some of the more Puritan among us have accused Tucker Max of indecency, blasphemy, even glamorizing rape, but honestly, he's just a toolbox who's still too immature to realize tallying human interactions as conquests or notches on the belt will never lead to long-term happiness.  I've thrown up on myself from drinking, snorted lines of cocaine off Jennifer Lopez CDs, and won money on various sex act proposition bets.  I get it, I just don't get why it makes him cool or worth nine dollars.

2012: Not exactly the type of thing to impress Diane Court, this effects-driven yawner begs to be every bit as loud and obnoxious as High Fidelity was quiet and subtle.  How does Noah Emmerich even still have a job after 10,000 B.C..? More people are looking at McSteamy's cock right now on the internet than every saw that saber-toothed shit. 

The Box: If someone told me I could push a button which would simultaneously transfer one million dollars into my checking account and murder some random son of a bitch I've never met before, would I push it?  That's a fascinating hypothetical, one I'd gladly discuss over drinks, not pay to hear the dude behind Donnie Darko's thoughts on.  We all know someone's going to push the button, and it'll come back to bite them in the ass like the goddamn landshark.  

Alvin And The Chipmunks 2: The Squekquel: You'd think Jason Lee and David Cross could unite behind an idea which didn't involve wannabe ferrets, but shitty children's movies have a long history of snagging disgustingly good talent.  Even Julia Child must have eaten at a Golden Corral at least once.  I won't be seeing this partially-animated shitfest; and if I had kids, they wouldn't be seeing it either.


The Road: Part Waterworld, part Children Of Men, part Droncit fill-in, the only reason this Armageddon bullshit isn't in the guarantee file is because I still haven't completely figured out what the hell is going on.  Why is there so much chaos?  Who stared this chaos?  Was it vampires?  Osama?  A failure to adhere to Smokey's grim warnings?  One out of fifty people will falsely conclude there's some beautiful societal commentary here; the other forty-nine of us will rue the hours we lost.

A Christmas Carol: I'll be honest: after The Truman Show and Man On The Moon, I thought Jim Carrey was going to be one of the best dramatic actors of his generation.  Now he's back to his hokey voices in a story we've already heard in a dozen different ways.  It's likely better than Ghosts Of Girlfriends Past but you really have to ask yourself: is that even a win?  Can one really improve their self-esteem by beating Sloth at Scrabble? 

The Twilight Saga New Moon: Backoff preteens, Goths and born romantics, you can talk about the haunting beauty within Edward Cullen's mopey face all you want, I'll still be more than a little skeptical about undead clit lit.  Pretty positive this will suck, but I'll give it a fair shake after they cleaned directorial house and beefed on some budget.  It's a courtesy I always give to the vampiric.  

Women In Trouble: Here's the thing about stripper movies.  Most of 'em set out trying to shine a light on the exploitive and deviant flesh trade, but in doing so they become spank material for geeky highschoolers too stupid to realize the intended message.  It's not empowering; it's not educational; it's just bullshit, fabricated grit for ignorant actresses to prove they're in it for the craft.  Add in Carla Gugino's questionable acting which almost ruined Watchmen, and this has the forgettable stink of late night Skinamax oozing from its pours.  

The Princess And The Frog: Upon release, roughly forty percent of the population will mistakenly decide The Princess And The Frog was pretty good.  A return to Disney's wonderful 2D roots, numerous critics will claim.  But rather than legacizing itself alongside The Lion King and Peter Pan, it'll seep into a cave with Pete's Dragon.


Jennifer's Body: Can someone tell me why in the melty, gooey fuck Dairy Queen can't cram half Brownie Batter and half Girl Scout Tag-A-Log in the same Blizzard when Fox Movies clearly has no issue letting two flavors of the weak work on the same film?  Megan Fox's shitty acting and unintentionally comedic pouty, fuck-me eyes + Diablo Cody's over polished circle jerk hipster dialogue = camp classic.  Here's to hoping we get a sequel where Jennifer vampirizes MySpace Tom and Mark Zuckerberg; and the three go on a murderous rampage through Apple Stores throughout the Bible Belt.

Surrogates: Let's just go over the plot for a second.  Everyone in the world has decided to abandon life, sending out robot amalgamations of themselves, or surrogates, which allow them to live consequence free through a third party.  But then someone gets offed and Bruce Willis, playing an aging law enforcement agent, of course, must abandon his own surrogate to get to the bottom of this virtual reality thou shalt not kill commandment breaking.  So, just to recap, it's Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep fused alongside Gamer and I, Robot with less Big Willy Style and more pod people.  Sounds like a perfect fit in between episodes of Attack Of The Show on G4.


Shutter Island: I've been excited about Shutter Island for months now.  From the creepy, almost film-noir trailer to Rorschach back behind bars, Scorsese's latest looks creepier than Cape Fear.  Too bad the studio cursed it to the Indian Burial Ground known as February release, clearly because there's just too many goddamn It's A Wonderful Life's to compete against this Fall.  How do you bump Leo, Mark Ruffalo and Ben Kingsley?  How the fuck does that seem like a good idea?  Who's pulling the strings around here?  And why do they hate winning Oscars?

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw; it's a long hike to Christmas.