Metacritic Score: 46 out of 100

Rotten Tomatoes Score: 22 out of 100

IMDB Score: 5.6 out of 10

I’ll be the first to admit I wasn’t too impressed with writer/director Rob Zombie’s initial take at the “Halloween” franchise.

Am I the only one who thinks that Michael Myers is starting to look more like Rob Zombie then Michael Myers?

Too much emphasis on the back story during the first half of the movie and a relatively by-the-books representation of the original film’s story during the second half left me underwhelmed and just a little bored.

I didn’t watch the film in the theater, though. And I was a fan of Zombie’s other two films, “House of 1000 Corpses” and “The Devil’s Rejects.” These two qualifiers convinced me to take a chance on “Halloween II” in the hopes I wouldn’t have to include it in my “Year of Bad Movies” experiment.

Mr. Zombie, you let me down.

Or maybe I let myself down.

“Halloween II” is a well-shot, atmospheric movie that offers an interesting take on a classic horror film monster. It is exactly the type of film I would have loved ten years ago. Today, though, I was struck by how tedious and joyless the film played.

Now some might be shocked at my desire to find joy in a film that features a masked man (wearing a William Shatner mask no less, tying it in to yesterday’s film) killing helpless teenagers, but we’re talking a different kind of joy here.

When I was a younger kid, I loved horror movies — the more dark and twisted the better. For a while there, my favorite type of horror film was the slasher film. While I was too young to enjoy the genre’s heyday during the ‘80s, I was still able to experience the second renaissance slasher films found in the late ‘90s.

As my sister and I consumed every new cheesy, low-budget slasher film that was made available for our eager eyes’ viewing pleasure, I found myself loosing touch with reality.

Now, I’ll never make the claim that horror films corrupt the minds of the youth (provided they are watched with parental guidance), but there is no denying that a childhood spent watching horror films left me desensitized to violence.

The result of this phenomenon has left me constantly searching for a scary movie that will actually scare me. I actually get jealous when I hear friends talking about how they don’t watch horror movies because they get scared too easily.

All I can do is sit back and remember being a child cowering under the covers during “The Omen.”

Still being a fan of horror movies, I have been left with no choice but to modify my approach when judging what is and what isn’t a good scary movie. I can’t base this on scares alone so I am left looking for joy.

In horror movies, I search for a sense of fun (either from humor written into the script to counteract the scares or proof that the filmmakers had a blast making the movie as evidenced by inventive death sequences or creative twists on old clichés).

“Halloween II,” for all its cinematic impressiveness, came off as a joyless, trip down a bloody path that offered no new sights or sounds. It was the same tired kills that seemed designed only to scare teenagers and tantalize those twisted psychos who get off on violence. In other words, it just wasn’t for me anymore.

Metacritic score: 29 out of 100

Rotten Tomato score: 22 out of 100

IMDB score: 5.4 out of 10

I’ve seen “Alien vs Predator” before. Several times. In fact, in the interest of full disclosure, I own “Alien vs Predator.”

The Alien and Predator species enjoy mixing it up on the dance floor nearly as much as they enjoy killing each other with teeth and claws.

I’ll be the first to admit it’s not a great film. It is a fun film, though — and that is the main reason why I decided to begin my project with Paul W.S. Anderson’s science fiction creature smackdown.

To those who have not seen “AVP,” the 2004 action movie pits the stars of two legendary science fiction franchises, “Alien” and “Predator,” against each other.

The Predators, a species of dreadlock wearing, armor plated crab monsters are hunters on the search for the ultimate prey.

Xenomorphs, those vaguely phallic influenced extraterrestrials from the “Aliens” movies,” are mindless killing machines that enjoy long walks on the beach, candlelit dinners and poking people with their toothy mouth erections.

Together, the two are the Tom and Jerry of the galaxy, constantly dueling it out with no regards to property damage or the safety of innocent bystanders.

And what kind of Paul W.S. Anderson film would it be without a crew of black body armor wearing, gun-toting special ops bystanders.

In “AVP,” the film’s red shirts are a group of research scientists, mercenaries and arctic drillers — but essentially they all have the same job title: cannon fodder.

As a film that wears is silliness on its sleeve, “AVP” is by all definitions a bad movie. Sub-par special effects, overblown performances and a script potmarked with plot holes add up to a flick that has a hard time endearing itself to audiences.

A large part of the animosity most critics had with the film had to do with the fact that, unlike the original bloody franchises, “AVP” was given a PG-13 rating, with its blood and gore left on the cutting room floor.

I was one of those initial whining fanboys, mewing about missing carnage like a little boy who lost his balloon. After having seen the sequel, “AVP: Requiem,” though, I realize that blood and guts do not make a good movie. While “AVP 2” featured its fair share of dismemberments, child deaths and popped pregnant women bellies, it lacked heart (well, besides the ripped out and exposed hearts of the film’s casualties).

Rewatching “Aliens vs Predator,” I think I’m starting to come to the realization that a movie doesn’t have to be ultra-violent and full of four-letter words to still be fun. Sure, those things help, but in the end they may not be necessary.

I watched “Predator” for the first time when I was in third grade. My parents, feeling I did a good job in school, let me watch the movie as a treat. Sitting there, seated Indian-style in front of the television, I was enraptured by the story of one lone Austrian’s battle against an alien reggae singer. At the time, I was totally tweaked by the site of skinned human bodies hanging from trees, but I think I came out okay in the end.

Maybe it’s a good thing that we have an “Aliens vs Predator” movie rated for teens. They can still watch and enjoy a dumb science fiction punch ‘em up movie without having to worry about nightmares staring Jessie Ventura.

My take: Bad but enjoyable

I'll be going into more detail about how I distinguish what counts as a "bad movie" as the experiment progresses. Yes, I do have rules and a process for picking "bad movies."

Truth be told, I don’t remember quite how I fell in love with movies. Since I was young, I’ve enjoyed watching movies but at some point in the impressionable years of my youth, I fell head over heels in love with cinema the way most people fall in love with their spouses

Seriously, I have the kind of puppy love for film that might one day find me snuggling up with a DVD case on a bear skin rug as I whisper sweet nothings into the circular shaped hole on its disc.

As much as I love movies, though, I’ve found myself growing more and more elitist about the subject matter. The more films I’ve watched, the more I’ve found myself casting scorn on the flicks I once loved as a kid — finding the characters childish and their plots pedantic.

The very fact that I’m using literary devices such as alliteration and words such as pedantic to talk about movies is proof enough that at some point in the past few years I’ve begun taking film way too seriously.

I’m the movie snob-equivalent of a Lifetime Channel made-for-TV abusive husband — waxing poetic about the use of Hitchcockian camera techniques as I wear a wife beater and slurp suds from a six-pack, casting threatening glares at my DVD collection all the while.

I don’t remember when I fell in love with movies, but I remember why: They taught me a deeper meaning about life.

I learned about morality and love and destiny by watching everything from Disney cartoons to ‘80s slasher films. Movies helped me find and form my faith. They gave me my childhood optimism and filled my heart with dreams of endless possibilities.

Movies made me happy and because of this, I was a happy child.

Nowadays, I’ve unconsciously conditioned myself to treat watching movies as a chore — something akin to popping open a textbook. Instead of watching a movie as a form of educational escapism, I watch a film and am too preoccupied with why a filmmaker chose a certain lighting design or which French New Wave classic is being used as an inspiration for a particular scene.

Movies, I’m sorry. We’ve lost that loving feeling. And I’m all the worse off for it.

My life has become grounded in the mundane. Escapism is harder to grasp and my imagination has become an arid dead sea full of flopping breathless fish gasping for substance from the faith that has all but dried up.

All of this is why I’m undergoing a project that will test my love for movies — hopefully breaking me of my elitist attitude about films.

For the next year, I will watch 365 movies that have been critically or commercially shunned. I will spend the next 12 months immersing myself in bad movies — forcing myself to rediscover my love for movies like discovering an exotic flower growing in a heap of elephant dung.

I’m not doing this as an experiment in masochism. I’m doing it to become a better person. I will immerse myself in bad acting, overblown plots, shallow storylines and I will force myself to learn from each and every movie. I will rediscover the childhood ideals I once clung to and will realize my potential as both a movie fan and as a man.

I am going to spend the next year watching bad movies. Here’s hoping I learn a thing or two.