abiti da cerimonia corti napoli In the past I’ve always stated, “to find an enjoyable film look first to the top 25 highest grossing films of all time, not adjusting for inflation that is.” That has worked for the most part but in the past few years some real shit stains have crept their way on to this coveted list. The Transformer’s franchise being among those smeary stains (as for you geeks, I’m not getting into the Phantom Menace debate!).
In a day, long since gone, Average Joe would take a date or join his buddies in a treat to the box office of their local cinema and make an intelligent decision on a limited choice of films to slide that hard earned cash through the half mooned portal of enjoyment. After receiving his proof of entry he would make his way to the end of the line full of eager comrades. Hours of conversation and camaraderie later he would find himself before the gatekeeper of theatrical magic and wonderment to prove his worthiness gaining him exclusive access into the lobby of glorious treats and desires. Sitting in his seat among several hundred other proud patrons he would wait for the proof of a well thought out decision to commence. In the end floods of newly acquired fans would pour out of the theater retelling the side splitting jokes, or affirming the heroic actions of the characters, or wiping the rivers of tears from their moisture swollen faces, or corralling their hyper children from their sugar induced imagination driven reenactments of their favorite scenes.
Unfortunately this is a forgotten time. This is the new age. An age where Michael Bay is paid millions to deliver us one shit stain after another … but is he totally to blame in an industry driven by its fans? No … not on his own at least. We the Average Joe’s of the world drove him to it. Why else would he keep making this garbage, one worse than the other. Need more proof? This film is considered to be his worst in the franchise by more critics than the previous entries and Bay has been quoted stating that this is to be the first in a new trilogy of sequels.
Is it the constant nagging, the crappy weather, or sheer boredom that drives us to the theaters to throw away our hard earned cash and waste nearly 3 hours of our precious life on a poorly shot and near blind like editing of robots fighting themselves? Maybe it was the extensive run time that eluded you to a near possibility of their being an actual plot that you could root for? Well I’m here to help you dodge that bullet and redeem yourselves to your buddies at the water cooler. When asked if you happened to catch this robotfuckfest you can hold your head up high, thrust your manly chest out and stand proud stating that you would rather be dragged backwards naked through a cactus farm.
Boomsy Film Reviewer
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