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Since we didn't get a chance to do the weekend projections on Friday, we're unburdened of our usual crippling feelings of failure and inadequacy on this Monday morning. Enjoy these numbers, free of the usual baggage of our expectations:

1. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire—$54.9 million
The choice was almost too easy: spend a night watching Harry Potter flounder through his magic pubescence, or waste another night staring across the table at your family, silently calculating how much alcohol you'd need to ingest to get through the encounter without killing a blood relation. That $55 million represents potentially thousands of averted domestic violence calls. Thank you, young wizard, for saving America's families from the holidays.

2. Walk the Line—$19.7 million
Joaquin OscarWatch: Cindy Cash, daughter of Johnny Cash, was so amazed by Joaquin Phoenix's portrayal of her father that she "did a double-take the first time she saw...Phoenix in a commercial for the new film." She also noted the two men's similarities: "The death of his brother and the death of my dad's brother were two just pivotal moments in both their lives." Phoenix is expected to fly to Carter's antiques shop in Canton, Mississippi, and immediately storm out in disgust.

3. Yours, Mine & Ours—$17.5 million
Our cursory (read: IMDb) research reveals that even though Dennis Quaid has appeared in over 50 films, this is the first one with an ampersand in the title. Fun!

4. Chicken Little—$12.4 million
Yes, we know that last week we mentioned that if Chicken Little landed in the top 5 yet again, we might have to resort to a joke involving Zach Braff, a barnyard fowl, and an act that's illegal in nearly every state in the Union. We hate to let you down, but every time we try to conjure the image, we experience a stabbing pain just behind the eyes. This is a good thing, our brain's way of steering into a ditch rather than hit the sixteen-wheeler of psychic damage head-on.

5. Rent—$10.7 million
The critics might be split, but one Defamer operative offered this appraisal late Friday: "This was one of the worst experiences of my viewing life - I've spent the last 3 hours infusing a stiff and steady stream of good creations into myself, trying to burn the mess of such an assault out of me and my interior life. I need an acid bath!" Sadly, there seems to be no film review thumb orientation that can properly represent the complexity of these feelings. (Or if one exists, it's certainly too filthy to describe in a family publication like this one.)