Tomb

Recently, I heard an audience fall into derisive laughter after seeing M. Night Shyamalan's name attached to a trailer for Devil (2010). It's surprising to see a once-beloved film director fall so far in the public’s esteem, but then, I suppose I can be equally fickle. Indeed, plenty of formerly exciting auteurs have lost my interest — but can they win it back? Only time will tell.

John Woo: The Killer (1989) proved that a movie that had “bangbangbang!” as two-thirds of its dialogue could be awesome. Chow Yun-Fat was a sideways-leaping, two-gun firing, slow-motion badass — action cinema was forever changed. Sadly, this kind of innovation doesn't stay fresh for long, especially when every other action director in the world starts copying it. Even diehard fans balk at seeing The Killer for a third time, and Woo's migration to Hollywood led to Windtalkers (2002), Paycheck (2003) and, tellingly, increasing fan indifference.

George Lucas: A long time ago in this galaxy right here, everybody loved Star Wars. It was a global obsession, and most of us have the Millennium Falcon pillowcases to prove it. At the height of his success, Lucas quietly retired from directing; most people didn't even notice that the sequels were directed by other hands. Then, 20 years later, Lucas stepped up to deface... er, re-edit the special editions of the original trilogy as a warm-up to Episode 1: The Phantom Menace (1999). Nerdgasms abounded — this was the most anticipated movie of all time. Until, of course, we finally saw the film. For about a month, we all pretended that everything was fine. That Star Wars wasn't ruined. That Jar-Jar Binks wasn't that irritating. But eventually, we had to face the truth: Star Wars wasn't the best thing in the universe anymore; it was just a movie. We grieved, but left the experience with new wisdom and maturity. Then we got new pillowcases.

Richard Kelly: After the masterful Donnie Darko (2001), fans eagerly anticipated the next project from this dark genius. First, we got a director's cut of Darko — it was oddly worse than the original — and then... we got Southland Tales (2006). Sweet Jesus! Have you seen Southland Tales? And now, he's made The Box (2009), a film based on a perfect, 11-page Richard Matheson story. I can’t bring myself to watch it.

Richard Elfman: Danny Elfman's brother made a promising directorial debut with Forbidden Zone (1982), a gloriously weird cult film that had Herve Villechaize playing the king of the sixth dimension; in it, everything is utterly bonkers. Elfman took a decade off before making Shrunken Heads (1994), a film about three decapitated superheroes, a film that failed to live up to Zone's promise. Next came the completely dull Modern Vampires (1998). And that’s pretty much everything he’s made. At this point, I really shouldn't be excited about the upcoming Forbidden Zone 2. But I kinda am, anyways.

John Carpenter: Escape From New York (1981), The Thing (1982) and Big Trouble in Little China (1986) are terrific movies that belong in every collection. Memoirs of an Invisible Man (1992), Vampires (1998) and Ghosts of Mars (2001) are not. Dude, what happened?

Uwe Boll: House of the Dead (2003) may be terrible, but it made me laugh my ass off. His lack of talent was undeniable, but unlike 99 per cent of the people who wrote about him, I didn't hate Uwe Boll. Then Postal (2007) came out. Now I hate him. After finally accepting the fact that nobody actually liked his films, Boll made a movie that was terrible on purpose — and I was infuriated. Even worse, he literally beat up five writers in a boxing match to promote his awful movie. For shame.