For the students out there, let's begin with an analogy. Platinum Dunes is to horror movies what Michael Bay is to legitimate filmmaking. That is to say, both are a blight on otherwise sacred institutions. This may sound like an ungrounded, free-floating hatred, and that is true when it comes to Mr. Bay and his aborted attempts to make a coherent film. And let's not pretend that The Rock or Armageddon are good movies. They may be pretty, and stuff blows up real good, but they are crap films with all the redeeming value of a Snickers bar, except that, packed with peanuts, Snickers often satisfies. That's a sensation missing from audiences duped into seeing Bay's films. But, I digress. I want to focus on Bay's production company, Platinum Dunes. Not since the days of Trimark Entertainment has one studio been responsible for so many awful, moronic films.

Let's take a peek at their track record. First up, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Right out of the gate with a remake that lacks all the passion and quirkiness of the original, while also managing to drain from the piece any of the social commentary which elevated the original. The upside? Jessica Biel looking sexy and scared. Unfortunately, that can't support an entire film, and, besides, I have the internet. Your promises of sexiness are powerless against the Google. First-time feature director Marcus Nispel pisses on a classic achievement in horror cinema. Well done.

Two years later, Platinum Dunes cranks out another steamer in the form of (surprise!) another remake. The Amityville Horror is arguably decent in its book and 1979 feature incarnations, but more of a social phenomenon than good literature or filmmaking. Why not water it down some more? And with a director who has done one grainy documentary previously, how can you lose? Taking its cues from Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Amityville gives its viewers an incomprehensible mish-mash of ghosts, demons and home repair gone awry, boasting a constantly-shirtless Ryan Reynolds whose abs should have their own billing above the title. It's a very, very bad movie.

Two years later, Platinum Dunes cranks out another steamer in the form of (surprise!) another remake. The Amityville Horror is arguably decent in its book and 1979 feature incarnations, but more of a social phenomenon than good literature or filmmaking. Why not water it down some more? And with a director who has done one grainy documentary previously, how can you lose? Taking its cues from Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Amityville gives its viewers an incomprehensible mish-mash of ghosts, demons and home repair gone awry, boasting a constantly-shirtless Ryan Reynolds whose abs should have their own billing above the title. It's a very, very bad movie.

But, how do you follow up two terrible remakes and still guarantee your viewers the same level of toxic crap? How about a prequel to the abysmal remake you made? And that's what Platinum Dunes did. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning should roll credits against a background of director Jonathan Liebesman writing "I will never direct again" on a chalkboard. Same goes for the brainless Darkness Falls, for which Liebesman is also responsible. If there is such a thing as horror porn, the use of genre elements with no respect or artistic merit, this is exhibit A. And no Jessica Biel. The copies of this movie are best used for coasters, midget Frisbees, or gag gifts, given along with a competent film. If you've been unfortunate enough to have seen this clunker, you have my sympathy.

So you've done a remake, a remake, and a prequel. What's next? Why not a remake, that'll keep people on their toes! And of a movie that wasn't all that financially successful to begin with. Enter The Hitcher, based on a cult film of the same title, only this time without the good acting or sense of dark surprise the first held. Again calling on the talents of a music video director (Dave Meyers), the Dunes manages to disregard narrative for some visual flair. This craptacular movie doesn't even have a convincing look to it. Overacted, poorly executed, the first film to decrease the value of a blank dvd by being transferred to it.

And what's next for Platinum Dunes? Only remakes of The Birds and Friday the 13th, that's all. Because I am often described as Christ-like in regard to my self-sacrificial nature, I have a proposal. Rather than subject other innocent viewers to the celluloid turds produced by Platinum Dunes, I would like to invite the managing partners of the company to neutral ground. Them, alone with all the fond memories of my childhood, man to memory. I will allow them to rape and desecrate those childhood memories, but only with their promise that they stop doing the same thing to the rest of the horror fans the world over. Barring that, I make a slightly less immodest proposal. If you see the Platinum Dunes brand name on any film, don't see it. Let those talentless bastards pimp their remakes in another genre (I propose historical period pieces). Every nickel put into the pockets of the Dunes is a vote for more crap. And we have enough of that already. Don't go to the theaters, don't rent these horrible remakes, don't give them one more goddamn reason to keep defiling the medium of film. Force them back to MTV, where their mindless, soulless, radioactively shitty product belongs.