LAFF Review: Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen

The first Transformers was by every estimation a bad movie. Sure the effects were cool, even groundbreaking, but every other element of the movie was basically silly, if not frequently and insultingly stupid. Its sequel, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen is significantly, significantly worse. Absent the mildly diverting discovery arc of the first film, the second one is literally nothing but uninspired set piece after uninspired set piece after uninspired set piece after uninspired set piece. And if you think this review is repetitive, try watching the movie.

Revenge of the Fallen begins a few years after the conclusion of the first film. Megatron has been buried in the ocean and the Autobots are scouring the world trying to stamp out the final remnants of the Decepticons. Meanwhile, Shia LaBoeuf's Sam Witwicky is still laying hard, thick wood into Megan Fox's waiting quim. All science fiction films strain credulity to a certain extent, but is it even remotely believable that power-dork Sam would actually leave Mikaela's wonder-pussy to go to fucking college? I think not, DreamWorks! I think not!

Of course, Sam does go to college and is conveniently assigned a roommate who -- get this -- runs a website devoted to exposing the government's cover-up of the Autobots and Decepticons! Brilliant storytelling. Seriously. Brilliant, brilliant stuff. While at college Sam meets an incredibly hot Euro-slut who wants to bang him, but -- like most 18 year-olds -- he resists her advances despite the fact that his girlfriend is thousands of miles away and the skinny Euro-slut is likely into analingus. Meanwhile, shit is going crazy back at home.

The mighty All-Spark thought destroyed in the first film still has two slivers remaining. One is kept under tight government security on the island of Diego Garcia; the other is kept in Megan Fox's purse next to her tampons (wait a minute -- she's too skinny to menstruate!). In short order, the remaining Decepticons are after both. A full, mechanized assault is successfully launched against the military outpost and the first All-Spark shard is secured. Unfortunately, the tinker toy that pursues Megan is easily captured and off she goes to find Shia.

She basically finds him in fragrante delicto with the Euro-slut and storms out of his dorm room. But wait a minute -- Euro-slut is a fucking robot! Cue all hell breaking loose. Shit blows up. Then, later on, more shit blows up. Robots fight. Escape seems impossible so, of course, they escape without too much trouble and no injuries. The Deceptions are on the move. The Autobots are insulted by a government bureaucrat and retreat into the background. Optimus Prime is killed by Megatron! Repeat -- Optimus Prime killed by Megatron!

At this point, I lost track of the movie as I started reading texts on my phone. While the first film was a straight action picture, Revenge of the Fallen includes all sorts of weird, mythographical exposition. We learn about the "original Primes", meet the "Fallen Prime", discover what the "Matrix" is (I kid you fucking not) -- basically, it's all just white noise to keep stupid people distracted between action sequences. I'd like to say it's nothing more than derivative shit, but that would insult infinitely superior derivative shit like, say, the Eragon books.

Thankfully, it all eventually ends (abruptly, of course, with a completely flaccid final battle). The Autobots win; the Decepticons lose. The Fallen Prime is killed by a reborn Optimus Prime (shocker!). A disfigured Megatron escapes with Star Scream to plot for Transformers 3 in 2011. Michael Bay lights Megan Fox's tits perfectly. She and Shia French kiss. Sam's annoying parents escape death to everyone's disappointment. Josh Duhamel and Tyrese Gibson wonder why they were cast in this movie. Michael Riefenstahl gets rich. Satan wins.

Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen opens tomorrow in theaters. Please don't see it. Please don't contribute to the destruction of all that is good in the human spirit. If you absolutely must go (e.g. you have bratty kids who won't stop yapping), please fart loudly and repeatedly in the theater so that everyone's good time is ruined.