This turd of a movie suddenly seems less offensive to me with this title; but I need only recall one second of Oscar’s all-time worst best picture winner (and yes, I’ve seen Going My Way, Around the World in 80 Days, My Fair Lady, Braveheart, American Doody, and Gladiator) for the bad memories to overtake me. I will give Haggis & Co. credit, though. Even with its post-Cronenberg English title, this poster always got to me, even convincing me before finally seeing the film (even upon initial release, when it was just another Amerindie spring dumping-ground movie with slumming “stars”) that it was, if not something of import, at least something of true dramatic heft. Not knowing that the admittedly intense looking scene depicted on the poster was actually one of the lowlights in a film so brimming with bad moments that they became difficult to catalogue without growing an eye-twitch, I figured at least I was in for some good old-fashioned, socially conscious melodrama; even a glossy PTA-style Stanley Kramer redo would have satiated. Alas, the rest is history, and this screaming man—clutching his little girl who jumped in front of him to save him from the bullet of a Persian shopowner mad that he didn’t properly fix his front-door lock but who thinks she survived because she’s wearing a “magic cloak” that was set up as a device in her only prior scene in the film—is now trapped forever, wailing for help from the purgatory of hellish movie badness.