The Bombs: S.W.A.T. (2003)

Every time I think to myself "okay, time to pan SWAT (Stupid Weak-Ass Twaddle) now" I sit down at my computer, fire up my editor, and then I'm immediately overcome by a numbing stupor and my nose starts to run. Vacantly, I wipe the discharge on my sleeve and absently note that it's not mucus, but liquified brains. Thankfully, the damage seems to have wiped out my perception of pain as well, so I'll just sit here happily drooling while tunelessly humming the theme song to SWAT (Samuel, What a Travesty!). Oh right, that reminds me, I was going to pan that movie. Where was I? Oh hell, what's that dripping on my keyboard? It appears to be coming from my nose. Strange, I don't think that's snot...

No! I must be strong. For if the movie can reduce my brain to mush, hardened as it was from countless action movies and high-altitude suspension-of-disbelief training, then I fear for more artistically-inclined and sensitive viewers. Must. Pan. SWAT (Slowly Weakening, Acronyms Tiring).

This movie is actually quite remarkable in it's complete lack of redeeming features. It's a redeeming feature vacuum. The cast, most of whom I've enjoyed on other occassions, is lifeless (I suppose Michelle Rodriguez would be the lone exception, but she isn't given enough to work with to pull off "redeeming feature" status). The action is poorly edited, including the big showdown fistfight, which is not only badly edited, it's too damn dark to even tell it's badly edited (even deprived of sight, I just know, because I have special powers (well, I used to before the cranial leaks sprung)). Our villain is a pouty French international terrorist who looks about 18 years old (fresh out of pouty French international terrorist high school, I guess), but we don't see him do anything bad except knife ANOTHER BAD GUY! So I suppose we should hate him because he's French and pouty, but I just have a hard time hating a people with such appreciation for good food. Interestingly, Colin Farrell gets to not act the most. He gets to not convey to us how broken up he is at being bounced from the team, not emote in the scene with is girlfriend, and not relish in his minor victories over the course of the movie. An impressive display of anti-acting.

Christ, even the gag reel was boring. When was the last time you saw friggin' OUTTAKES that weren't funny?

Now I must take my leave of you. I'm going to sponge up my brains, squeeze them into a pan, suck them up with a turkey baster, and then try to inject them back in via my right ear.