In a year of craptaculars, “Little Fockers” deserves burial at the bottom of the sea (“Skyline” looks like you’re off the hook). No one expected Shakespeare, but Paul Weitz’s failure to cap his franchise with any real meaning can easily be ranked as one of the biggest disappointments of the year. This third (and hopefully last) installment should have been called “The Final Insult” instead. I can’t remember the last time I had a horrible time watching a comedy (or is it one?). “Little Fockers” reunites the same cast from the previous movie (a pleasant enough movie) and puts them in an extremely unfunny story about Jack Byrnes (Robert DeNiro) who feels it’s time to appoint a successor for the family. Meanwhile Greg Focker and his family are about to celebrate the twins’s birthday. Or something like that. Jokes include vomit, blood, a fight between Jack and Greg, and an awful scene in which DeNiro “accidentally” takes an erection pill (you can probably guess the rest). We waited 6 years for this, it wasn’t worth the wait. Casting Jessica Alba as a drug representative is like assigning Paris Hilton the role of a neurosurgeon. Screw those fockers!

Fiasco!