Few things run as deep as my love for Alien and Predator. These two beasts were the gateway into my passion for creature features and horror movies in general. Three years ago I saw all that love eviscerated when Paul W.S. Anderson raped my inner fan with the unholy abomination that was Alien vs Predator. It was the single greatest movie upset of my life, but despite getting burned, I held out hope for a good follow-up. Slick internet trailers and reassuring words from the new directors raised my hopes out of the gutter, and all I asked for Christmas was to see justice brought to my favorite franchises. But instead Santa has delivered a big bag of “Fuck you!”, only wrapped in prettier bow.