Seven

Called on to perform a 'no-news wipeout' on seven Hawaiian mafiosi, Drew Sevano (Smith) assembles his own charmless bunch of seven heavies, and then spends his time driving around brooding on new methods of homicide. It's the sort of film where you keep seeing the microphone boom; in other words a tawdry mess, unrelieved by acts of crazed eccentricity (skateboarding crossbowmen, a hang-gliding bomber), and epitomised by its grossly insulting attitude to women, their sole function being to climb in and out of bikinis. Strictly for the brain-damaged. CPea.