88 Minutes

Interestingly, the more overblown and insincere a performance Pacino delivers in a film, the more self-important and bouffant his hair gets. Here, it's so towering it takes up 90 per cent of the screen.

Now that this stupendously inept serial-killer flick has slithered into theaters, the diminutive legend had better clear room in his closet for another cinematic skeleton.

It verges on so-bad-it's-good territory, but just isn't entertaining enough. Lacking in tension and pace, poorly edited and starring wholly unsympathetic characters, this is just dull, drab and boring.

Given that 88 Minutes actually runs 108 minutes, it's tempting to make the joke that the movie is 20 minutes too long. In actuality, it's 108 minutes too long.

If you like your women half-naked, strung upside-down from pulleys, and sliced like deli meat, this is the movie for you. Whether the victims are more tortured than the plot is a serious question.

Nothing would give me keener pleasure than to reveal the identity of the killer, but a day after seeing the film I have genuinely forgotten.

Avnet treats his audience like we’ve never seen a thriller before, when really we question if we’ve ever seen one this bad.

A film so stuffed with shortcomings that they can't all be addressed in a single review.

Razzie Al at his absolute worst.

Pacino is magnetic no matter what he's doing, even if his surroundings aren't quite up to par.