The Pacifier (2005)

Image credit: THE PACIFIER: Kerry Hayes

IT TAKES A LOT OF BALLS TO MAKE A MOVIE THIS STINKY How many more signs of the apocalypse are there?

Blame it on Clint and that orangutan. In the '70s, he was probably the first slab of macho to domesticate his image by teaming with a costar worthy of a Dean Jones kiddie comedy. From there, it wasn't such a big leap to Arnold and Kindergarten Cop and now, God help us, The Pacifier, a yawn-by-numbers romper-room dud that is nevertheless shrewd enough to tweak its star, Vin Diesel, for becoming a joke in less time than it took him to become an action hero.

Playing babysitter to a family of brats (he's a Navy SEAL, in case you were wondering; they're an assassinated scientist's children, whom he's been assigned to protect), Diesel, who looks like Uncle Fester's frat-house-hooligan son, doesn't interact with anyone. He just barks orders in that muscle-lipped monotone. You haven't experienced a disgruntled lunk's bad timing until you've seen a slice of baloney drop onto Vin, who, after a pause of about three hours, croaks out the line ''This is my favorite shirt!'' The Pacifier appears to have been a good career move, but even Diesel may live to regret it when he discovers what flubber awaits him.