WTF? YOU LIKED THAT? REALLY?!

A random alphabetization of darlings that left me seething, snoring, or sorry that I’d moved two hours closer to midnight.

Antonioni’s insufferably pretentious, existentialist “mystery” (mimes playing tennis — how deep!); Herzog’s creepy, questionable canonization of a pathological, imbalanced “conservationist”; Figgis’ no-budget manifesto on Flagrant Navel-Gazing As Art; Miller’s repugnant celebration of gratuitous violence for its own sake; Lelouch’s cure for insomnia; See prior, minus Lelouch; Tavernier’s diffuse and repulsive Ode to Jazz as personified by...