The Mexican (2001)

As generic as its title, The Mexican is Exhibit A in defense of the notion that studio execs don't really care about plot, dialogue, characters -- hell, even audience enjoyment -- as long as the stars are big enough to guarantee an opening weekend. Minutes into the film, Brad Pitt and Julia Roberts are already screeching supposedly hilarious imprecations at each other as a pair of beautiful-loser lovebirds. But who are these people? Why should we care about them? Why do you even want to know, asks The Mexican, as long as Brad's hair is tousled just so and Julia turns on the megawatt smile?

The story sends Pitt, at the behest of mobsters, south of the border in search of the antique gun of the title while hostage Roberts is carted around by a sensitive gay hitman played by James Gandolfini. The latter's the only one who even bothers to act; Pitt and Roberts just coast on their celebritude while director Gore Verbinski makes smug fun of Mexicans under the impression that irony excuses racism. A shambles and proud of it, The Mexican proves that Ross Perot was only off by a few years: That giant sucking sound is here and it's yours for the price of an overnight rental.