Some robot fights some other robot in Transformers: Dark of the Moon.
Oh, Michael Bay. You fooled me again.
Here I am thinking Transformers: Dark of the Moon, the third film in a franchise I've despised to this point, might be some mindless fun. After all, reviews weren't quite as savage this time around. But no, this film is basically a carbon copy of its predecessors: Dumb, incoherent, painfully unfunny, and not remotely exciting. There's no denying it looks nice (if this was a silent film without dialogue, it'd be one of my favorites of the year), but I don't look forward to Christmas for the wrapping paper. There's no substance whatsoever behind this film's special effects, and shame on me, I suppose, for thinking otherwise.
Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf), along with Optimus Prime and his fellow Autobots, has saved the human race twice now, yet he can't seem to find a job. At least, he has a smokin' new girlfriend, Carly (Rosie Huntington-Whiteley), to keep his spirits up. It's just that Sam is having trouble accepting an ordinary life. That's why he jumps at the opportunity to assist his old robot friends when they're in need once again. Megatron and the Decepitcons are at it again, this time trying to activate an old Cybertronian weapon hidden on the moon. Should they succeed, mankind's existence will once again be at risk. And with a stronger enemy than ever before, as well as some humans playing for the wrong team, the Autobots certainly have their hands full.
Would if I could give you a better explanation of what the hell is going on in this movie, but I had no clue what they were talking about, and frankly, all the robots look the same to me. I think Optimus has some purple in him, and Bumblebee is yellow, but beyond that, I'm lost. If the movie was better, I'm sure I would've made more of an effort to figure this stuff out, but it's just so dumb, I didn't really care. It was more fun making it up in my own head, really.
I have to say the action is impressive. The last thirty minutes of the film are balls-to-the-wall—not remotely thrilling, but nice to look at. Unfortunately, the action is mostly absent up to that point. Instead, we get to watch Sam and Carly play house, which is as uninteresting as it sounds. And it doesn't help that these two can't act their way out of a paper bag. Huntington-Whiteley is especially bad—far worse than her predecessor, Megan Fox.
A whole host of other actors pop up here and there. Josh Duhamel and Tyrese Gibson reprise their roles from the first two films. Still don't know what the point of their characters is. Patrick Dempsey is abysmal in a relatively large role (Carly's rich boss). Only God knows what John Malkovich and Frances McDormand decided to participate in this. Then, of course, there's John Turturro—another carry-over from the first two films. At least he's generates some solid laughs.
I could rag on this film some more, but what's the point? If you haven't seen it yet, you probably don't intend to. I just wish I stuck to my guns and refused to see it. Hopefully, now, we can put this series to bed, and all these individuals can move on.
Wait, what's that? "Transformers 4" news?!?!? Ah, fuck...