Two hundred and sixtieth film: Independence Day, a 1996 special effects and testosterone-soaked sci-fi movie that I rolled my eyes and swore at. I hope this is meant to be the corniest, most cliché-drenched thing anyone has ever seen, otherwise the idea that a man can only be forgiven for marrying a stripper if he saves the entire world from alien annihilation would make me sicker than Jeff Goldblum in a borrowed UFO. Don’t get me wrong — I love action movies, special effects, and explosions. I’m just bored by being shouted at that scrotal fortitude and wisecracks are the only way out of this scrape. Terrible characters, terrible green screen, terrible dialogue, annoying children, glaring ridiculousness, GREAT explosions. Of course, how DARE aliens come to our planet to strip it of natural resources. We’re already DOING that. I couldn’t even bring myself to hate this movie, it was just dumb, and the kind of dumbness that Bill Pullman and Jeff Goldblum should know better than. So exactly the kind of dumb that Will Smith belongs in. One and a half ham-fisted cigar metaphors out of five.