Four hours of my life I want back
Also known as ‘how to make exploding alien robots so boring you would rather gnaw through your own leg than watch that film again.’ By which I mean the new Transformers film, of course. What’s it called? The rise of the fallen? The ascent of the supine? The vacuum cleaner’s revenge?
I swear I went into it with a working brain, but during the endless exploding tedium that followed I believe my grey matter melted and flowed out of my nose, though that may have just been blood. At any rate, the film is too boring to deserve a proper review, so you get one that goes like this instead:
Oh look, exploding robots. I can’t tell them apart. Motorbike transformers with holographic female porn starlets attached, and pink and purple paint-jobs? I’m trying to be fair here by thinking ‘oh, representation for the girls’, but I know I’m just fooling myself and they are actually just teenage male wank fodder. True to my more cynical thoughts, it proves later on that they are pathetic fighters and are utterly pointless, with nothing to do in the plot at all. Therefore only in there to provide momentary eye-candy for the boys.
Dear God, hero’s family are the most irritating screen family I have ever known. Copulating dogs = comedy? Hero is an ugly sleezeball. Hero’s girlfriend is a hot-pant wearing porn starlet who is clearly far, far too good for him. What does she see in this douchebag who won’t even tell her he loves her? The only reason these two are together is that we’re in teenage male wish fulfillment land again, isn’t it?
The Decepticons are reenacting Star Wars now. They have an evil emperor, who calls Megatron ‘my apprentice’ and everything. Though OK, I do like the satellite/space station robot, and the ball bearing robots are cute.
Gah! Ew! But every time they try to give the Autobots personalities they turn out to be sleezeballs too. The writers of this film really must love sleezeballs. Unfortunately, I don’t. Am I supposed to be finding this funny? I can’t tell.
Oh look, here’s another porn starlet girl and she’s coming on to the deeply unattractive hero. How likely is that? Oh, no, it’s OK, she turns out to be an evil robot. That does make a lot more sense. Surely there’s only one smart porn starlet chick in the world who would really like our hero.
Our hero has an annoying douchebag of a room mate, but at least this boy’s pretty. Tall, curly hair, nice eyes. Why couldn’t he have been the hero?
Far far far far far far far too much ridiculous and pointless stuff happens. Optimus Prime dies. We’re supposed to be upset, but I couldn’t care less. He never had a personality anyway, so I won’t miss him. I just wish they’d taken out those stupid twin autobots at the same time.
More things blow up.
Ugly hero and pouty heroine are chased heroically around the world. The roommate endears himself to me by actually being scared. My God, is this acting?! Good for you, curly haired boy!
They pick up a character who may have been in the first film. I don’t remember the first film, but I like the quirky middle-aged guy. Quirky middle-aged guy and curly-haired boy are almost starting to entertain me. There are even a few slashy moments thrown in for comedic value, which I decide to take seriously because it’s the only redeeming feature so far. Cool! These two should have their own film, because hero, heroine and robots continue to be as entertaining as athlete’s foot.
Hero dies. I could kill him because this is obviously going to prolong the film for at least another half an hour. Some robots smash some other robots – did I mention that I can’t tell them apart? The sun is about to be destroyed. I wish they would get on with it. Then the magic dust makes everything better. And we close the film with the hero still refusing to say ‘I love you’ to the heroine.
All I can say about this is that it makes Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince look like a work of genius level wit and brevity. If you were thinking about going to see it because Transformers 1 wasn’t that bad, spare yourselves and just hit yourself over the head with a plank full of rusty nails for an hour instead. Trust me, you’ll enjoy that lots more.