Short version: Crappiest piece of crap ever crapped into a crapper.Long version: Some ganked up Hollywood icehead actually believed the comic-reading public would be fond of an "action movie" where the first hour actually contains NO ACTION. Next, the now-utterly-bored viewers we supposed to swallow a ninja-trained, halter-top wearing professional assassin spontaneously developing a soft spot in her heart and having mercy on one of her targets because he's a single father. Then the four comic-junkies left in the audience are treated the most profoundly pussified super-henchmen to ever crap on the Big Screen. And finally, the grand conclusion is a drawn out pansy fest where the villains are they're so easily defeated that Liberace rose from the grave just to laugh at them and offer them pink purses to go with their little pink dresses.
With the release of Elektra, an all new level of suckitude has been reached. And a small piece of the universe has died because this flick saw the light of day.
I would rather perform an un-sedated vasectomy on myself with a George Foreman grill than see this movie again. Though I think the act of watching the whole thing has already rendered me sterile.
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