In case you didn’t know it, blogging is hard. It’s not just “loser in his mom’s basement spewing mindless invective.” And it gets worse in the summer, when the heat threatens to melt your brain.
I hear you: “If you’re so evil, shouldn’t you like the heat?” To which I reply: DMX was right when he titled his 1998 opus It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot. Hell is hot . . . but it’s a dry heat.
. . . All of which is to say, sometimes you’re flagging and need an assist, content-wise, and this week Michael Bay has come through for me in spades. I didn’t know if I would see Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen at any point. Looks pretty awful. But I am glad it exists because it at least gives us this, probably the greatest movie review I’ve ever read. Congrats to reviewer Charlie Jane Anders at io9.
Imagine that you went back in time to the late 1960s and found Terry Gilliam, fresh from doing his weird low-fi collage/animations for Monty Python. You proceeded to inject Gilliam with so many steroids his penis shrank to the size of a hair follicle, and you smushed a dozen tabs of LSD under his tongue. And then you gave him the GDP of a few sub-Saharan countries. Gilliam might have made a movie not unlike this one.
. . . And:
LaBoeuf projects a pathetic, wall-eyed dorkhood, when he’s not babbling like a tumor removed from Woody Allen’s prostate that somehow achieved sentience.
. . . And:
[E]very single performance is so ridiculous that it looks down on “over the top” as if from a great height.
It doesn’t matter if you care about the movie. Just read this review. I promise you will come away happy . . . and, if you’re like me, actually wanting to see Transformers: ROTF. Now: go forth and readeth.