Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen
Remember how cool Jar-Jar Binks was, and how the only thing cooler than Jar-Jar would have been two Jar-Jars? Well, Bay got that message loud and clear.
One would think that a movie whose principle cast members are made of metal and steel would be able to steer well away from racist themes and stereotypes. After all, aren’t we all one robot nation, under Prime? Unfortunately, Michael Bay has once again found a way to beat the odds and as a result what should have been a harmless summer film based on a children’s toy is in fact a never-ending, two and a half hour bout with bigotry.
"Transformers: The Revenge of the Fallen" never misses a chance to make the audience feel uncomfortable about race relations. At times it feels almost as though George Lucas must have been a consultant on this film, thanks largely to the inclusion of twin robot versions of the lamentable Jar-Jar Binks. Remember how cool Jar-Jar was, and how the only thing cooler than Jar-Jar would have been two Jar-Jars? Well, Bay got that message loud and clear.
This time, not only do they swap their faux-Rasta vernacular for dialogue stolen straight out of a fourth-grade Philly education, but one of the robots even sports a GOLD TOOTH. That’s right – Transformers have TEETH, and anthropomorphized black transformers have GOLD TEETH to go with their FIREBIRD WINE and IMMACULATE WHITE PUMA SNEAKERS. This matches up well with the sensitive scene involving the only other black character in the film, a butcher who is saving up to replace his hilariously buck-toothed grille. Not quite as funny as the Binks-Bots, but then again, not everything that drops out of Bay’s ass can be made of solid gold.
Moving beyond the painful undertones of the film, it quickly becomes clear about 30 minutes in that most of the script was somehow destroyed during a terrible bender and rather than take the time to write a new one, it was decided to stage an interminable battle in the desert. Hopelessly outclassed humans take on wave after wave of nameless Deceptacons while Optimus Prime’s body lies in state in the background like some kind of metal-plated Lenin. The action is so confusing, and the robots all look so similar, that it is difficult to even care about how our heroes are doing as they run from one sand dune to another, cowering in fear.
We all know the dangers of making a videogame out of a movie – well, in this case, they made the videogame first, “Anonymous Transformer Battle Royale,” which sounds really cool until you realize it’s stuck in demo mode and you don’t get to actually interact with anything on the screen. I am sure all across America there are confused senior citizens still sitting in theaters, waiting for the actual movie to start.
The first Transformers film was flawed but watchable. This excretion, however, is pure tedium wrapped in a dazzling array of explosions and minstrel show dialogue. I kept waiting for a gigantic robotic representation of Michael Bay’s penis to jet across the screen, similar to the sneaker thrown by the frustrated “Return of the Jedi” modeler, but alas, I had to settle for Megan Fox’s ass, which if you think about it is growing more and more powerful by the day. I wouldn’t be surprised if “Transformer’s 3” was set entirely on both of her sublime cheeks, starring micro-Transformers who could babble on and on in their inane language for hours while the men in the audience remained completely silent and enraptured. It’s the closest thing I can imagine to a religious experience in cinema.
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