Thursday, July 02, 2009


Michael Bay hates me.

I know, he has plenty of good reasons. I'm overweight, grumpy, aging one day for every 24 hours that go by... Hell, most of the time, I hate me. But after Transformers, I thought me and Mike (his friends call him Michael) had an understanding: He does movies in which shit blows up, and I forgive the dog for licking balls.

Mike, you fucked it up.

I had every right to expect this movie to be awesome. The first one was great! It had real charm, giant robot fights, Megan Fox, Optimus Prime... it was like a tech demo for the awesomest movie ever. Sure, it was no Citizen Kane, but it was fine. Fun. The sequel promised more giant robots, more charm, more Megan Fox, and it delivered: a loud, explosive package of empirical awesome wrapped in a nutty shit tortilla.

I don't think it's too much to ask that after all these years, Michael Bay learn how to make a fucking movie. You know, to ease us in with some exposition, then tease us along with a compelling story, then nail it home with an exciting ending that pays us off for sticking with it for so long. But Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen isn't so much a story as a perfect simulation of having one's head dunked in a flaming cistern of animal shit... and I'm not talking about the pleasant kind, either.

The movie begins with our friends the Autobots having teamed up with the American military to stop the Decepticons from decepting. This is partially because the Autobots and the American military teamed up in the last movie, but mostly because Michael Bay can't go three days without fellating the US military. If this were a review of Michael Bay's Strawberry Shortcake, then I'd be talking about how she was teamed up with an elite unit of berry, berry well trained commandos.

So, the Autobots are teamed up with the military, and they're airdropping into China to take on some Decepticons. Because China likes letting us and our giant robot aliens into their airspace, it all goes down without a hitch, and soon our favorite Autobots are chasing after the Decepticons. Or... at least I think they are. And wait, those aren't our favorites. They're new guys? And that Decepticon is really an Autobot? And how many silver sports car robots are we following here? And why is there a pink ice cream truck that the military guys call "the Autobot twins," when there's also a pack of three motorcycles that they refer to as "Arcee"?

Ooh, nevermind. There's a giant robot there, rolling over China, and only our friends the unknown, confusing Autobots can stop it! WooHOO EXPLOSIONS!

Fuck you, Michael Bay.

So then we see Sam Witwicky as he's getting ready to go to college. He's talking with Megan Fox (doing a fine George Hamilton impression), who is breaking up with him, I think over a disagreement over what brand of motor oil they each bathe in before leaving the house. Apparently she's mad he's going to college, and she doesn't think he'll be faithful. Who fucking cares? That's already a whole paragraph that had no giant robots in it.

Michael Bay can't just let it go here. He has to rope us in. He can point to the movie and say, "Dude, there's a huge scene in which Optimus Prime busts out some swords and cuts some bitches," and I have to legally say, "Yeah, ok, you're right." Then he laughs like a hyena on meth and gets back to fucking up the movie.

There's a huge giant Michael Bay military porn section that seems to take up more than half the movie. Giant robots + bombs and shit = awesome, generally... but not here. You can't tell who's getting shot. The military owns the giant robots (whom I assume are Decepticons, but I can't fucking tell, and I know the military can't), and Sam runs around with a sock full of dust that can resurrect Optimus Prime (oh, I forgot to mention, Optimus dies).

A bunch of construction equipment combine to form Devastator, which should have ben the awesomest thing ever. But Michael Bay fucks it up. He manages to avoid telling us much of anything about the Constructicons before then, and then Devastator turns out to be about as awesome as a sick chihuahua on valium, getting his ass kicked by a pair of Autobot Jar-Jars whose ghetto-crunk accents that make Eddie Griffin look like Charlton Heston.

The plot of the film is simple, and goes something like the following:


I have no clue. I am a Transformers dork from way back, I have no clue what this film's about. Some old Transformer was trying to destroy the sun, and then some Primes stopped him and hid his machine in a pyramid so that he'd have to engage in all sorts of awesome stuff before he can try to kill the sun again. Then... the military does some crap, Sam and Megan Fox say things, and some nodescript, anonymous robots transform into cars that are AVAILABLE IN YOUR LOCAL GM SHOWROOM NOW!!!

All the film had to do was show some robots, have them fight each other, and have a plot that makes sense. At this point, though, the dog isn't just licking balls, it's moved a few inches south.

Fuck you, Michael Bay. All I wanted was a Transformers movie, and you give me this.