Michael Bay’s Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen may not be the worst movie ever made, but with its 150-minute running time, it very likely is the most obnoxious. And what do you get for frittering away two-and-a-half hours of your life on it? Well, let’s see — you get a giant robot with testicles (“I’m right beneath the enemy’s scrotum”), a robot with an erection, a robot that farts flames, gay dog sex, no less than three arbitrary slo-mo boob-bounce shots of Megan Fox running, John Turturro’s naked butt, a small horny robot that tries to marry Megan Fox’s leg, endless cheesecake shots of Megan Fox with her backside in the air, and a pair of illiterate jive-talking ghettobots (one with a gold tooth). And it’s all wrapped in Spielbergian dysfunctional suburban family humor, while Shia LaBeouf continues to demonstrate that he’s a few acting lessons Shia drama degree. The movie’s supposed raison d’etre lies in watching giant robots beating the crap out of each other. Oh, sure, there’s something that vaguely passes for a largely incoherent plot about the Decepticons (those are the bad robots) turning on some device that will eat our sun, but it doesn’t matter much. The real draw is robots fighting and causing property damage. Fine. But Bay and company can’t even get that right. The action scenes are a jumbled mess of incomprehensible “stuff happening” that we’re supposed to accept as exciting for no reason other than the fact that stuff is happening. You can rarely tell exactly what stuff is happening because it’s all shot in close with Bay’s peripatetic-cam and chopped into small pieces. An utter waste of time and money — and in John Turturro’s case, talent.
Director: Michael Bay
Writer: Ehren Kruger, Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman
Producer: Ian Bryce, Tom DeSanto and Lorenzo di Bonaventura
Cast: Megan Fox, Shia LaBeouf, Rainn Wilson, Hugo Weaving, John Turturro, Josh Duhamel, Tyrese Gibson, Frank Welker, Isabel Lucas and Reno Wilson