Kindly refund my dollar, madam. (Possible spoilers?)

Rating: 1/10 (25 August 2004)

Allow me to open by saying, as emphatically as is possible through generic, unformatted text, that this is quite possibly the worst movie I have *ever* seen over the span of my 18 years on this planet. It is my personal recommendation that the person or persons responsible for creating this reprehensible piece of garbage should be severely reprimanded -- if not banned from film-making for all eternity and forced to surrender their immortal souls to the prince of darkness, Satan, himself.
I arrived at the dollar theater in a positive, open minded mood -- with a close friend visiting from out of state, no less, thus feeling nothing short of unattractively chipper -- ready to welcome an ass kicking new movie starring two of my favorite actors (Dennis Quaid and Jake Gyllenhaal) with open arms. By the end of this two hour trainwreck, however, I found myself in a state of absolute shock, my mouth hanging slack, mind struggling to digest the horrendous chunk of painfully insipid, asinine cow dung I had just been forced to swallow. Not only did this tired, predictable, appallingly moronic excuse for a movie leech 124 minutes of my life I can *never* hope to regain, but it cost my poor friend (who was reduced to nothing more than a shell of his former self after viewing this monstrosity) two whole dollars and a potentially enjoyable Tuesday evening.
The only aspect of this film vaguely *reminiscent* of *some obscure kind* of redeeming quality, was the scene in which some hungry wolves -- presumably bred in captivity and handled by humans their entire lives, "domesticated" in every sense of the word -- escaped from the zoo with a newly acquired the taste for human flesh and proceeded to hunt down Jake Gyllenhaal and his cronies on a conveniently parked ship outside the library. I laughed from the sheer absurdity of the situation, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes, as everyone else in the darkened theater gasped and held their breaths out of genuine concern.
Inside, though, a piece of me was dying: the piece that retained my last shred of hope for humanity. Thank you, Mr. Roland Emmerich, for destroying my will to live.