Everyone Must Watch All 111 Minutes Of 88 Minutes Immediately

While attempting to catch up on a ton of movies before this year runs out (though, of course, missing lots because of the shitty UK release schedules of some promising movies), we just watched 88 Minutes, starring Al Pacino. How bad was it? Approximately this bad.


It's like a bad movie smorgasbord. Neal McDonough's in it, so it's like this year's I Know Who Killed Me, except a hundred times more entertaining. Leelee Sobieski is in it too, so it's like this year's Wicker Man (though she doesn't get into a brawl with Nicolas Cage, regrettably). It's directed by Jon Avnet, director of the execrable Up Close and Personal, and written by Gary Scott Thompson, the man responsible for the Knight Rider revamp. It could only have been more perfectly awful if it had been made by Mike Leigh. Truly a milestone in Bad Cinema. It's always a wonderful moment to find something as wrong-headed as Exorcist II: The Heretic, or Dreamcatcher, or the first Saw. This is that bad, but it also stars Al Pacino, for extra pain points. The cult has probably already sprung up, so keep an eye out for references to semen-pumping, phone-throwing, or Guy LaForge, because you'll know the person making that reference endured this and survived, and therefore deserves your respect, your pity, and your uncomfortably full-on hug with bonus boob grab (see the movie and watch Al's reaction to an exploding car. It'll make sense).