Only movie I have ever walked out (and I made it through Stop! Or My Mama Will Shoot, 2001: A Space Travesty, The Adventures of Pluto Nash, Jonah Hex and some other terrible, terrible films) has been a Mexican piece of cinematic insult named Historias del Desencanto, which is, pretty much like if Telemundo decided to do a Fellini movie with an Asylum budget directed by Coleman Francis, performed by the worst actors in your local comunity theatre and scored with an 80's Casio keyboard, just remembering it makes my skin crawl and my blood boil!