(Lee Tamahori, USA, 2007)
Chosen on a whim, I came to this movie with low expectations that weren't nearly low enough. True, it's pleasurable enough to indulge in ridicule, and Next has nearly endless occasions for ridicule, from Cage's infamous hair to the fantastically bad CGI, to the hilariously hacky script, to the palpable boredom of the actors (even Cage, usually game for any extremity of stupid, can hardly be bothered), but even that appeal has its limits. The amazement at the consistent shittiness of every last element of the production eventually curdles into weariness. The film's sole value is as a kind of platonic ideal of Hollywood cynicism; everything about the film screams a lazy, pandering grab for money. One could, if one were so inclined, get worked up over this; mercantile crassness, utter contempt for the audience, the vanity of a few rich people who are trying to ride the gravy train until the wheels come off, but what would be the point? The film was a box office flop; perhaps proving that even the shameless peddling of trash has its limits.