Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen

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Michael Bay never promised you cinema. Michael Bay never promised to bring you an arching story about the struggle of the human condition. He never offered to touch you emotionally with the pathos of his characters as they over come their inner demons. Michael Bay only promised you one thing: that when he makes a movie it’s going to jump kick a flaming ball of shit-yeah right through the heart of an explosion as it high fives an orgasm in space. When Michael Bay reads through a script if it doesn’t have at least fifty explosions and a bevy of hot chicks that look like they were created in the Playboy Hot Chick factory he finds the writer and eats his family.

Michael Bay doesn’t live a regular life like me and you. The adage ” he puts his pants on one leg at a time,” doesn’t apply to him. Michael Bay’s pants are fired at him from a canon as he does a slow-mo matrix backflip off of his bed. Michael Bay mows his lawn with hand grenades. When Michael Bay travels he doesn’t book a commercial airline, he straps a missile to his back and shoots himself at his destination.

When Michael Bay stamps his name on a movie you are guaranteed the following:

Shit is going to blow the fucking shit up all over the god damned place.
Contrary to popular belief: Michael Bay doesn’t love explosions. Michael Bay hates everything. If he can come up with a way to make water explode you can guaran-god damned-tee that the ocean is going to blow the fuck up. And physics can go fuck itself.

The hot chicks are going to be smoking hot.
When Michael Bay casts young women is his movie he goes by the “Bond Girl Casting Requirements”: Would people pay to eat their lunch of this young lady naked? If the answer is yes then they are going to get a role in which they will be prominently featured exposing their hotness and saving the day. If the answer is no he sends them to work on George Lucas films.

nuclear physicist?

That camera is going to whip around like Michael J Fox on a tilt-a-whirl.
Watching a Michael Bay film is like sitting in the heart of a meat tornado. When you go to see a Michael Bay movie you should expect a frenetic pace that rivals a meth addict running a marathon over broken glass. Some sources would say that fast paced camera movement is just one of Michael Bay’s signature directing and editing styles. This is not the case by a long shot. Michael Bay crams so much awesomeness into his films that if he doesn’t move the camera at least three times a minute your eyes would boil and your head meat would explode all over the screen. He’s doing you a favor.

This is the movie Michael Bay would make if he wanted to give himself a boner.

The central theme of this movie revolves around all of the characters learning to cope in a new environment where new challenges exist to the previously established lives. But honestly; who gives a shit? I don’t understand people who go to see a Michael Bay movie and come out of the theater acting all holier-than-thou and upset because the movie was a two hour toy commercial filled with titties, rocket explosions and car chases. Who the fuck walks into a Michael Bay film and says, “Man I hope that Megan Fox can help me to connect with the struggles of a woman and her need to prove herself along side her male counterparts in a stressful environment.” THIS AINT “SENSE AND SENSIBILTY” MOTHERFUCKER!! THIS IS TRANSFORMERS 2. Now grab onto your dick and watch things blow up!

“The book was sooo much better.”

I’m not going to recap the entire movie for you but I will give you One awful, and One AWESOME thing about Revenge of the Fallen.

One Awful Thing – This movie makes no sense. NONE! This movie has the continuity of an acid trip run backwards through a broken projector. Characters come and go without any introduction and good guys and bad guys move around the globe apparently without the need of transportation. Locales butt up against each other regardless of their physical location on this here earth. For example: at one point the main characters leave the Smithsonian Air and Space museum, located in Washington DC, through a pair hangar doors and walk right into an Airplane Boneyard located in Arizona. This is either a function of Michael Bay not understanding geography or simply not giving a fuck. There are two characters called The Twins who are the robotic, stoned equivalent of Harold and Kumar go to Cybertron. God forbid they spend any time on the ball-smashingly awesome Sideswipe but instead dedicate a good amount of film to these two “Robots-from-the-hood”steroetypes.

the question of who deserves more screen time and who will sell more toys are two VASTLY different equations

Also, for some ungodly reason, there’s a Decepticon that looks just like a young supermodel who’s really an evil robot who’s applied, and been accepted to the same university that Sam Witwicky is attending. Cybertron must have some really great prep schools. But in reality none of this fucking matters. None of it. Because if you can draw your attention away from explosions, giant robots and Megan Fox’s USDA certified boobtastic-ness and start picking apart locales and continuity while you’re in the theater, you’re probably allergic to fun and no amount of robot fighting goodness would be able to penetrate your blackhole of mirth.

One Awesome Thing – Fucking-A; there’s robots everywhere and they love nothing more than whooping each other’s asses.

I’m going to try, in recounting this, not to devolve into the literary equivalent of making explosion noises with my mouth. This will be a hard thing to do considering that while I was sitting in the theater I was constantly yelling “BAYSPLOSIONS” much to the shagrin of my fellow, popcorn throwing theater goers. But this is the reason that we all went to see the latest Transfomers movie: to watch giant robots fuck each other up.

This movie has been jam-packed with the CostCo size helping of transforming robots. And much like the ninety six gallon jug of barbeque sauce that you once carted away in hopes of an amorous, Carl’s Jr. inspired rendevouz – just the though of that should give you a boner. In every scene, EACH AND EVERY GOD DAMNED ONE – Michael bay has added a robot.

Sam prepares to leave for college, he drops a shard of the cube and his kitchen appliances are transformed into robots with missile firing dicks (not a joke)

Mikayla works in her fathers chop shop – robot humps her leg.

Sam goes to college – hot robot disguised as a tempting, nubile coed who wants to rape Sam’s brain meat for mysterious information shows up.

And that’s only a sampling. But the simple fact remains that with this many robots sharing so much screen time, eventually two robots who don’t agree are going to end up in a scene together and when that happens there can be only one conclusion: robot fighting time. But in true Bayhem fashion Michael Bay has pushed the envelope so far that these sequences no longer look like action shots and more closely resemble Robot-Fight Porn.

Robot-Fight Porn as defined by The Oxford English Dictionary of Badass Items, Non-Sensical Naming Conventions and Hyperbole is:

Robot-Fight Porn
[ roh-buht, -bot fahyt pawrn ]

Any scene in a film, most notably films by Michael Bay or produced by Jerry Bruckheimer, in which two or more giant robots are engaged in fisticuffs where the surrounding landscape/human co-stars/cattle are decimated in the process.

Originally defined for the early nineties film ‘Robot-Jox’ the film was later disassociated from this term of bad assery and associated with other, more appropriate adjectives. -ref: “Colossal Robot Suck Fest”

~Use In Common Language
“Holy fuck beans incorporated, Optimus Prime just sprouted giant energon swords for hands and is using them like a coked out Gensu Knife salesman. This has to be Robot-Fight Porn because I’ve got an erection that could stab a battleship.”

And this movie is the “Rocco Loves Jenna” of Robot-Fight Porn. After watching Optimus Prime skydive out of a C17 galaxy in order to make a hackey sack out of a giant Decepticon’s head in the opening fight – which was accompanied by the debut of Sideswipe as he ninja flips over a Decepticon and cuts him in half; and a forest fight scene wherein Optimus sprouted the above mentioned swords and holds his own against three large decepticons like a whirling dervish in order to facilitate Sam escaping, how you ask, can Michael Bay deliver? Easily my friends. The money shot comes, obviously in the last, greatest, Bay-ie-est fight of the entire film.

Cramming all of the robots into the desert surrounding the Pyramids at Giza Michael Bay delivers what will forever be known as his C4 fueled opus.  The Autobots proceed to stomp the candy-frosted fuck out of around three dozen Decepticons in a fight that rivals the battle of thermopylae.  Imagine sitting inside the eye of a hurricane.  All around you is devistation and destruction but you sit in the calm, cool center of the universe.  That’s what it feels like to sit in the theater for the final fight scene of this movie.  All around you is a miasma of flying robotc jump kicks and fully auto machine gun fire.  Your corneas recoil into the back of your head as wave after wave of robotic assault fills the screen and your sphincter tightens during what is, more than likely, the largest explosion outside of the Manhattan Project ever captured on film.  For thirty minutes the action doesn’t let up as Revenge of the Fallen cinematically dick whips you into subserviance.  And I loved every minute of it.


PS: The gigantic balls that swing below the five robot combiner – Devastator – as he scales the Pyramids? That’s not CGI.  Those are Michael Bay’s testicles; actual size.


There Are 4 Responses So Far. »

  1. Welcome back =D you were missed.

  2. “Man I hope that Megan Fox can help me to connect with the struggles of a woman and her need to prove herself along side her male counterparts in a stressful environment.”

    I would pay to see her struggle to prove herself on top of male counterparts.

  3. 😉 missed ya!

  4. Got to see this movie
    Already holding my dick in anticipation

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