7) Nine Lives
Garbage. Pure garbage. That’s the best way to describe this stinking turd of a film. How Kevin Spacey got suckered into this we’ll never know, but he’s surely regretting it now. Excruciating to sit through (even at 90 minutes) and painfully unfunny thanks to some very lazy writing, there honestly may not be a bigger waste of time this year than Nine Lives, and in what’s been a pretty mediocre 12 months for film, that’s really saying something.
Our very own Matt Donato put it best in his review:
Sonnenfield’s vision bounces around without a care in the world, unflinching in the face of tonal constructs as his writing collective shows absolutely no deftness in balancing light quips with irrationally dark behavior. Spacey ends up playing a less-interesting Richard Branson in cat form, who tries to piss all over his problems in the most literal sense – and not a single person tries to stop him. Pure. F&$*ing. Genius. And by “pure f&$*ing genius,” I mean “who in their right mind let EuropaCorp shoot themselves in the foot so epically.”