… I need it to remove my eyes.
I have never hated a movie more. There. I said it. Except now that I said it I’m not entirely sure it’s true. I don’t generally HATE movies. I dislike them sometimes, I think some are an enormous waste of time but it’s rare that I actually HATE a movie. It’s just not worth the effort. As of the moment of this writing I can only think of 3 movies off the top of my head that have kindled a rage in me the likes of which might astound biblical plagues, Mongolian warlords, or alien scourges. Those movies are: Titanic, Pearl Harbor and now Transformers 3. Were I a horrible soviet era tyrant copies of those three movies and everyone responsible for them would be purged and sent to Siberia. Or sent to Siberia and then Purged. or maybe I would simply have them put in a city square and have people hurl grapefruit and insults at them. That would do it. I clearly wouldn’t make a very good Soviet era dictator.
Now, Titanic and Pearl Harbor – as you may have noticed – are different. They are execrable. But their sin is primarily because they ginned up a stupid story where the actual historical story was infinitely more interesting and dramatic. They’re saying: I COULD watch Casablanca but Pamela Anderson’s Barb Wire is on. Sure. I will admit that there are folks (probably teenaged boy’s in the early 90’s) who would take Barb Wire over Casablanca but these people are insufferably stupid. I was a teenaged boy in the early 90’s. I should know. If you want the worlds most obtrusively hackneyed love story heaped on some of the most compelling factual drama you can go that route and watch either movie. Just don’t comment below and please find a different site to read.
Transformers 3 is different. Where Titanic and Pearl Harbor got filthy drunk and stumbled into awfulness, Transformers courts awfulness like a one toothed meth addict scrounging for the last resin caked spoon in the house. It’s terribleness is awesome to behold. It dwarfs Battlefield Earth and Plan 9 From Outer Space and stands proud: daring others to surpass it. It makes the viewer question themselves, their sanity, their grip on life. Dark, twisted, Lovecraftian nightmares from the deep will put this on their Netflix and quietly retire their aspirations for world domination and subjugation unless they suddenly turn the moral corner into charity and opt for domination just to preserve the artistic integrity and heritage of the planet.
This is in clear violation of my own policies I know. I just can’t help myself. So maybe a revision of the policy should be: I will not review anything I don’t like except in cases where the virulent hatred of something has so infected me that I can’t help myself.
I won’t waste my breath on particulars. You needn’t worry about spoilers. How could i spoil something that is so rancid and rank that it passed spoiled a millennia ago? I can only say that in the opening 20 minutes of this piece of garbage we are reintroduced to Sam Witwicky – the single most unlikable, unsympathetic character ever snorted from the nostril of any writer ever. Witwicky, as played by Shia Le – oh screw it. I don’t even want to spell it correctly – is an obnoxious, arrogant, illiterate, whining, sniveling, entitled, uninteresting zombified chipmunk. He chatter’s out dialog like Linda Blair in the Exorcist. Like its toxic waste. And it is. Everything he utters for the first portion of the movie just makes you want to punch him in the throat and you can’t imagine why any other character in the movie who shares screen time with him doesn’t do just that. Frances McDormand, an actress i love and respect, has the character to do it and she doesn’t. Josh Duhamel (I liked him in Vegas) could and he doesn’t. Even his walking collagen laced Barbie girlfriend (a prerequisite in any Bay film) has more character and chutzpah than him and SHE doesn’t do it. Hell, I would go for the supposedly noble but idiotically vapid Optimus Prime to squash the little turd like the annoying insect he is but Prime ‘likes’ him. WHY?????????? THERE’S NOTHING TO LIKE FOR GOD”S SAKE. Steaming piles of Chernobyl Bear Poop have more personality and character than Witwicky. JAR JAR BINKS is more likable. There I said it. Phew. I feel better.
And now that I’ve said it I feel obliged to admit that I didn’t finish watching it. I know. People are going to say: how can you review something if you didn’t sit through the whole thing. Honestly. It was self-preservation. In the first half hour we have Frances McDormand, John Malkovich, John Turturro, making complete asses of themselves. Malkovich does what he can but it’s not his movie. Which is a shame really. Between his character (written as a prototypical american boss with prototypical OCD and control issues) and McDormand (written as a ball busting stereotypical government bureaucrat) we may have actually had a fun movie. Turturro has been a lost soul in all of these movies, unfortunately. Nothing you can say about it except that somehow Bay manages to squash a decent actor into another sniveling waste of a character with no function and seeking some purpose.
But we don’t stop there. Nope. When executive producers sat down at the poker table with Bay they couldn’t reckon that he was ‘All in’ on every hand. We have a cameo from Buzz Aldrin allegedly lending legitimacy (and thereby eroding America’s accomplishments in space) to this incredibly moronic plot. Then we have Alan Tudyk. Ahh… Ugh. That one hurts. I’m still stung by the last images of Alan Tudyk’s Wash, impaled on a spear after safely landing the Serenity. But here he’s a former assassin turned bodyguard straight out of an ancient SNL ‘Sprockets’ segment. And then we have the voice of Leonard Nimoy as Sentinel Prime. It’s almost as if the producers of this epic piece of sci-fi sewage cobbled together as many respected talents in Sci Fi Acting as they could and held a gun to their head while filming. I’m still trying to tabulate the amount of respect lost for anyone involved in this mess.
Transformers clearly cost a fortune. If you superglued all of the dollars pissed away on these films you could walk to Mars on a ribbon of green. You could sew them together and make money suits for everyone in the world ten times over. You could use the paper to allow 3 year olds to write better screenplays than this. What you get for this fortune, unfortunately, is a clinic on what is wrong with the world. In that it’s practically poetic and would be admirable if it weren’t so unironic. It intends, and succeeds, in making a crap load of money all the while eroding our sense of the spectacular or even entertainment. If this is what we pay to watch just where is the nearest cliff to jump off of?
It is now on instant streaming from Netflix, presumably so that Netflix can help create the taste by which it is to be enjoyed. To all the boys aged 13 – 18 who are taken up and were relieved of the shrapnel in their pockets to watch this garbage: go play a video game. It’s actually better for you in terms of moral and intellectual development than watching this. better yet read a book. ANY book.