Last fall saw the end of what appeared, for a little while at least, to be a seemingly endless series of "Twilight" films. The moony film series, based on a series of equally moony novels by Mormon housewife Stephenie Meyer, were torturously lengthy, poorly plotted trifles, the stuff of dime-store romance novels and late-night horror movies (although infused with questionable gender politics and bizarre mythology for all the monsters that simply chose to ignore or eschew their Judeo-Christian background or iconography, leaving them as little more than metaphorically empty mopes). They also made what leading economists describe as a "shit ton" of money. So it's no surprise that Meyer's sci-fi one-off "The Host" (potentially the start of a new trilogy) is now getting the big screen treatment. It's also no surprise that it's just as horrible, if not even worse, than anything from the "Twilight" series. It's a dopey, dull, depressingly inert sci-fi disaster that retains all of the benchmarks of Meyer's mediocrity (the weird politics, the staid plotting, the moony eyes) but somehow manages to be even more humiliatingly awful. No small feat, indeed.