The warning signs usually arrive early: a line reading with the emotional range of a GPS, a green screen begging for mercy, or a plot twist that already smells reheated. Ten minutes is enough time for a movie to shake your hand, spill soda on your shoes, and ask you to pretend none of this is happening. These films didn’t need patience, context, or a charitable second act — they announced the disaster almost immediately, then somehow kept finding new floors to fall through.
