I saw the future last night and it went something like this:

“Daddy Day Care 3” starring Clive Owen

Forget cancer, I think researchers need to pour every available resource into finding the cure for career suicide.

It’s too late for Cuba Gooding Jr., but maybe we can prevent Benicio Del Toro from driving a precocious 7 year old girl and her St. Bernard puppy across the United States when she is inadvertently left behind by her forgetful parents.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m actually talking about the Clive’s latest film “Shoot ‘em Up.”

Calling this film ill conceived is like pointing out that Pamela Anderson is a slut.

Show me another movie in which a man dispatches at least 3 villains using fresh produce. I’ve seen lots of things done with carrots (usually on the internet), but I never realized that you could actually drive one through the back of a man’s skull until now.

Just imagine what he could do with asparagus!!

Basically Clive stumbles across a pregnant woman who is being pursued by a heavily armed group of bad guys. Unfortunately the woman in question is killed after delivering her baby and when Clive realizes that the infant’s was the actual target he takes it upon himself to protect the child.

How bad is the dialogue in this film?

Uh, stunningly bad. 

So bad that staring at the sun to cure your cataracts seems almost good in comparison.

For example, once Clive escapes with the baby, Paul Giamatti utters the following classic line:

“Find me every lactating prostitute in this town!”

If that doesn’t appear on T-shirts worldwide in time for Christmas then it’s a cultural crime. Imagine how much time would be saved if Japanese tourists could come to New York and simply point to their T-shirts on Times Square!! At the very least there should be an international symbol for this. Maybe a cow with handcuffs, or baby bottle in stiletto heels.

As bad as that line is, imagine the phone call that went out to actresses from their agents asking if they wanted to play the role of the “Lactating Prostitute”?

Nothing says “European Actress” like “Lactating Prostitute.”

Hell, I think in Germany they have a special award that give out every year to exceptional acting in the role of “Lactating Prostitute.”

Thank God they found an actress who’s mastering of the English Language is so complete that every line of dialogue she utters sounds like dyslexic, retarded, stuttering pharmacist trying pronounce the word “oxycontin.”

Forget method acting. Phonetic acting is where it’s at!

I wonder if Monica Belluci actually knows that she’s playing a “Lactating Prostitute”?

They probably told her that she’s playing a young Margaret Thatcher in a BBC drama about the Falkand Islands.

One sure sign that the script is trouble is when the protagonist doesn’t have a first name and so people keep referring to him as “Smith.” 

Just to make sure that you understand this, they repeat his name ad-nauseam in almost every sentence.

Yes sir, nothing says natural dialogue like the following:

“Smith, I told you not to come here anymore.”
“Smith, you’re no listening to me.”
“Smith, I need you to take me to the Blacksmith, because I left my Smith and Wesson beside the Smith’s CD.”

In the history of cinematic dialogue the only word that has been used more than “Smith” at one time is the word “Smurf” and technically that was at the end of the cartoon when the credits were rolling.

You’d think that I couldn’t be any more disgusted with this movie wouldn’t you? Ah, well you see that was before the scene in which Paul Giamatti (for reasons unknown) has the dead mother propped up in the back seat of the limousine beside him with her breasts exposed and then decides to give the corpse a fondle. Wait, I’m not done yet. Then she smells his hand!!

Should I discuss the shootout scene beside the neon lights that spell out a dirty word depending on which letters get shot? It’s very clever. It rhymes with yuck foo.

Nothing in this movie makes sense. Clive Owen can’t take a piss without 50 armed men swarming into the bathroom stalls with guns blazing but the really great part is that he will vault over tables, jump through windows and fall 3 stories onto the ground while holding the baby with one hand. This newborn baby has neck muscles like an NFL offensive lineman.

Now, some people are going to say that clearly this movie is not to be taken seriously (duh, REALLY?), but Quentin Tarantino uses colour and style in his over the top battle scenes.

What would you rather watch, a woman in a yellow jumpsuit fighting 100 guys in Lone Ranger masks or a guy squeezing the breast of corpse?

1 out of 5.