Dork vs. Dork: Transformers 2
Revenge of the CGI explosions
By Glenn Given email@example.com & Dan Szczesny firstname.lastname@example.org
I’m sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of everything being exploded by ninja robots who turn into sports cars. I didn’t hear your pointless plea for subtext and plot amidst the Robo-kung-fu; the chest-swelling bass of Peter Cullen’s Optimus Prime has deafened my ears to the mewling of lesser men.
Gloomy Gus and Nitpick Ned are sure to pooh- pooh the Bayformers franchise from their respective crum bum perches. “Oh, phooey, they didn’t make Soundwave a 20-foot-tall tape deck.” “Well tarnation! A M1 Abrams-sized robot cannot possibly shrink down to a Vespa scooter.” SHUT UP, NERD. Go watch a PBS documentary about giant crossbows instead of ruining a perfect summer treat. Objections are irrelevant to a film like Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. I mean, if you’re going to argue negatively about a movie that uses a subtitle with “Revenge” in it you’ve already lost. Bay’s “adaptation” is causing a nerd war among Trans-fetishists but the only Switzerland profiteering to have is to shut the medulla off and unselfconsciously enjoy it. Yes! Shia LaBeouf looks like a Camaro-driving early ’80s pimp minus the John Waters moles-tache. Hell yes! Megan Fox has legs that go all the way to the ground and is the proverbial “Brick House” that funk music warned us of. Michael Bay WILL sweep a tracking shot across an aircraft carrier and then explode them all to heck with robot meteors. GIVE IN TO THE BAYHEM. — Glenn Given
You’re right, there’s no place to go. Like some dork Capt. Picard, you’ve become assimilated by the Bay-org and I have no Riker to shoot you out. But maybe it’s better this way. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll come out the other side of this a better person. After all the robot dust has settled and you pick yourself up off your sticky basement floor, and as the gummy bears slowly begin to fall away, your eyes will clear and you’ll walk out into the piercing daylight a better, stronger human being. Then again, maybe resistance really is futile.
What is there to debate here, really? The size of the explosions? Megan Fox’s acting ability? Whether there will be a third movie in the franchise? Answers: Big, terrible, yes.
So Michael Bay is back with the summer’s most highly anticipated sequel: Transformers: Revenge of the blah, blah. Who cares? This movie might as well be called Megan Fox Pretty, Robots Go Boom for all the difference any nod to story, acting, development or subtext this movie will have.
There are three writers attached to this project. Why? What could they possibly have contributed? Here, let me save Bay some money next time, and write the script for him right here: Kablam! There, done, you’re welcome.
Look, Bay took a real step toward being a real person by appearing in those credit card commercials where he makes fun of himself. Good for him. So, now, why maintain the facade of being a real film-maker? Why not just film a two-hour robot fight? John Turturro? Why bother? Put that money toward more special effects. Add ninjas and maybe a giant shark that can walk on land. Make it robot zombies. Bring in some pirates.
The sooner Bay strips off the greasy veneer of filmmaker and just focuses his energy on blowing things up, the better off we’ll all be. Until then, it’s not worth sitting through Shia LaBeouf’s attempts at human emotion. The robots have more feeling. — Dan Szczesny
It should be noted that one of the three writers here comes from your precious Star Trek reboot, Mr. Pissoneverything. Just because Michel Gondry didn’t bring your proposed My Little Pony Helen Mirren, Ralph Fiennes Darfur genocide indie flick to the silver screen shouldn’t sour your puss to a fun romp in robo exlpodey town. Also, Megan Fox Pretty, Robots Go Boom? I and most film-goers would lap that sweet cream up.