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THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST Many of Mel Gibson's movies have displayed a fetishistic fascination with blood and guts, and this one's no exception. In relating the saga of Christ from his betrayal by Judas through the crucifixion, Gibson has taken the greatest story ever told and turned it into a snuff film. The pacifist teachings aren't even allowed to take a back seat to the beatings suffered by Christ (played by Jim Caviezel) -- instead, they're locked away in the trunk, with Gibson paying them only fleeting lip service. The emphasis is squarely on employing the best visual effects, makeup designs and slo-mo camerawork that money can buy to lovingly reveal every whip mark slashed across Christ's back, every thorn driven into His head, every nail hammered into His flesh. It's Kill Bill for the churchgoing crowd, an unrelenting orgy of evangelical ire that's sorely missing any type of meaningful context. 
SCOOBY-DOO 2: MONSTERS UNLEASHED The 2002 Scooby-Doo was cheesy, redundant and juvenile, which means it was fairly successful at recreating the spirit of the animated series. While not entirely lacking in charm, Doo 2 isn't as sure-footed; instead, the worst elements of the first film -- the characters' tedious soul-searching, their obsession with the media spotlight, all those flatulence gags -- have been emphasized, resulting in an exhausting effort that feels longer than its 90 minutes. The big surprise before was Matthew Lillard's dead-on Shaggy imitation; here, it's a subplot in which Velma (Linda Cardellini) gets a beauty makeover -- trust Hollywood to take the homeliest cartoon character this side of Olive Oyl, cast a real looker in the part, and then play up her hubba-hubba qualities.
WALKING TALL A remake of 1973's sleeper hit (itself based on a true story) about an upstanding man saving his town from the clutches of crooks, this is an example of what I like to call the "2am movie." It's the type of film invented for night owls and insomniacs, the sort of unexceptional, no-deep-thinking-required fare that plays best with a slice of cold pizza, a can of Coke, and the neighbor's dog incessantly howling in the background. To actually spend money to see something like this in a theater defies all logic: It's the equivalent of using a $20 bill to create an origami elephant. The Rock possesses natural screen charisma, but there's not much about this generic action flick that sticks in the mind. Ask me about it next month, and I probably won't even remember if I saw it.
THE WHOLE TEN YARDS Never mind the yards: There are at least 100 whole reasons why The Whole Ten Yards is easily the worst movie to (dis)grace movie screens so far in 2004. A sequel to a so-so film that barely anyone remembers (The Whole Nine Yards), this again finds gruff hit man Bruce Willis and nerdy dentist Matthew Perry mixing it up with gangsters. This attempt at comedy is so unspeakably awful that I actually felt precious brain cells melting away as my eyes took in this horror. The experience left me shell-shocked to the point that I was wandering the parking lot afterward in a daze, dependant on the kindness of a fellow scribe to remind me who I was, what I was doing there, and where I was parked. I'm no expert on the subject, but shouldn't Workers' Comp be covering my recuperation?
OPENS FRIDAY:
Man On Fire: Denzel Washington, Christopher Walken.
13 Going On 30: Jennifer Garner, Mark Ruffalo.
