Note to George Lucas, the Wachowski Brothers, and now Peter Jackson: we do not care about these cute little boys stuck in violent situations. We do not worry if they'll make it through each successive action sequence, but rather we pray that they will take a lethal laser beam/bullet/Kong fist to the head. Everyone from the critics to the fanboys hates these idiotic characters. And you keep lingering on these annoying moppets. Stop stop stop.

Just for Peter Jackson: If the third act of your film fails to live up to the utter awesomeness of the first two, don't add insult to injury by having Jack Black speak the worst last line to a movie in memory. Black does an admirable job of avoiding Tenacious D territory for the first three hours, but then hits us smack in the face with it in the last thirty seconds.