Since I follow The Onion's AV Club on Facebook, I see their Q&A feature pop up in my feed on a regular basis. They're the sort of writing prompts I can't resist and I'm not going to let the fact that I'm not technically (meaning "in any sense") in the AV Club prevent me from offering up my answers to their questions.
There were some good selections in the AV Club's list, with Futurama's Seymour Asses at the top of the list. However, I believe that the only way someone wouldn't chose Pirate the rabbit from Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely's WE3 would be if they haven't read the book. I'll be honest-I'm tearing up thinking about it right now. All of the animals in the book live in uncanny valley where their personalities are both affecting and deeply disturbing, They're able to express awareness of their situations and their actions in a way that's just close enough to believable to get under the reader's skin.
So, when Pirate finds himself in a hopeless situation, he knows it, and he acts in the only possible way that he can to make his demise meaningful. It's utterly heartbreaking, but it is not in vain. Just a page or so later, Morrison and Quitely give the readers what I believe is the single greatest panel in comic book history. I wont' say what it is, but I guarantee you'll know it when you see it...especially if you've read The Dark Knight Returns.
The writers for the AV Club avoided the films that were never conceived as anything more than schlock, so I'll do the same. Besides, as someone who saw Robot Jox, Spice World, and Tank Girl on the day they were released, I genuinely enjoy that kind of film. Heck, I even liked Mortal Kombat. So really, the question isn't what was the "worst" move so much as the "most disappointing" or even "the one you hated the most."
I have many, many candidates to chose from, but in terms of "falling a mile short of expectations," it's hard to top The Blair Witch Project. I saw it in a packed theater at the height of the hype, but as soon as the film started, the energy just drained out of the room. It wasn't just me; no one in the theater was buying in to it. It wasn't fun, it wasn't interesting, and it most definitely wasn't scary.
When it ended and the lights went up, the room was completely silent. Finally, a guy a few rows in front of me blurted out "Well that was kinda stupid." Everyone burst out laughing. It was, by a wide margin, the most enjoyable part of the film.
Pretty much every character on "Arrested Development" was unlikable, and I'm sorely tempted to select Lucille, but in the end, it really has to be GOB, doesn't it? His combination of insecurity and confidence, utterly unencumbered by self-awareness may not be completely unique, but Will Arnett played him with such an aggressive brittleness that you almost felt for him. Of course, every time you let your guard down, he'd demonstrate why he would never be the protagonist in any story, even his own.
Back when I worked in a record store, my manager played The Big Chill soundtrack no less than three times a day, every day. Because of this, I will probably always cringe when I hear any Motown standard. That soundtrack gave us those awful montages of white people in khakis drinking wine and have a suspiciously jolly time drinking blush wine and listening to "Mustang Sally."
But...man, the opening scene played against the Rolling Stones' "You Can't Always Get What You Want" is kind of spectacular. It's exactly the sort of match of mood to music that Wes Anderson does so well. The songs' epic, orchestral embrace of disappointment and settling for "good enough" suits the movie's themes perfectly. If the rest of the film had been as good as the opening credits, it would be a considered a classic.
No long intro for this one: Hugo Weaving, all day, every day. I genuinely wonder if The Matrix would have worked without Weaving's incredible Agent Smith. Watching him snarl "Mr. Anderson" gives me the jibblies every time. It could easily have been a nothing role and Weaving made it unforgettable.
I have a little rule of thumb for declaring someone a "great actor:" If they play a key role in three great films, they're probably great themselves. It's not a perfect method, but it's not a bad quick-and-dirty test. Weaving's work in Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and of course, Babe would put him in the club even without The Matrix. He's always worth watching, even when the movie isn't.