Tuesday, June 30, 2009

179. Michael Bay: Childhood Rapist Extraordinaire

Michael Bay has raped my childhood. And he didn't do it gently either. No no, he went the way of George Lucas, who before him had molested and violated those tender memories in the worse ways possible. But at least Bay is brutally honest about it, when he fucks you in the arse, he makes it known that he's fucking you in the arse. Unlike Lucas, who fucks you in the arse, and pretends that he's actually giving you a back rub, and that it's what you wanted in the first place (case in point: Greedo shooting Solo first, a quasi-scientific explanation for the Force i.e. midi-chlorianitisbullshitous, a semi-retarded young Anakin "Whippee!" Skywalker, a full-retard Jar Jar Binks, a CGI Yoda who looks like a cartoon and has the personality to match one, and the list goes on and on and on...).

So the first flick was pretty entertaining in a mindless sorta way, with Spielberg around to check Bay's over-indulgent impulses and excesses (too bad he couldn't restrain that weird almost homo-erotic military fetish Bay shares with James Cameron). Outside of all that "Bring the rain" macho-bullshit, you could clearly see Spielberg's influences in the story of a boy discovering that his car is giant kick-ass robot. Some scenes were just classic Spielberg; the first reveal of Bumblebee, the Bumblebee-Barricade chase and face-off, the arrival of the other Autobots, Prime's first transformation to his classic form...just pure genius.

Of course there was a whole load of wrong with in that flick too...all that army bullshit blatantly acting as a recruitment ad for the US military...impossible to decipher action scenes...the swapping of names and forms of the classic robots...but, all that in the end was forgivable...Transformers was a weirdly entertaining movie, and brought a warm fuzzy feeling deep down in seeing all those childhood legends brought to life. We could forgive Bay for his occasional lapses in judgement and some questionable choices. Now this flick...well, that's an entirely new thing altogether...oh my oh my oh my...where do I start?

After an entirely confusing prologue where we are introduced to the fact that the Decepticons were on planet earth many millennia ago in search of Energon (one which makes us start to wonder; hey now, wasn't it revealed that Megatron came before to look for that All-Spark thingy?), we quickly move on to a fairly awesome opening set-piece in Shanghai where Prime battles a huge motherfucking monster. Hell yeah, more of the same please. At least that's what we hope. What follows, unfortunately, is a descent into madness and darkness that will forever sear those fond childhood memories and destroy a bit of our souls in the process...

The first worrying signs...the introduction of the jive-talking Autobot twins; Mudflap and Skids...probably the most offensively racist stereotypes ever committed to film...and I shit you not on this...with their ape-like appearances (complete with buck-teeth and crazy eyes), the portrayal of these two characters are the realisation of every Klan member and closet White Supremacist world view of how blacks look and act (both can't read, speak in street slang and one even has a gold tooth for fuck's sake). And folks, it all goes south from here.

Midway through the film's first act, we have the Pretender Decepticon in the form of Alice, the hot college co-ed. Fuck, why transform into giant vehicles when you can transform to humans in the first place? Why oh why oh why oh why? Then, we have some lame-ass story about the original Primes and how only a Prime can kill the Fallen. Says who? Says the Fallen of course. Why? Heck if I know, it just is. Now who is the Fallen? Well, he was one of the original Primes who decided to go all Lucifer. Oh, and Megatron serves the Fallen, acting in an almost Padawan-like capacity. But wait, isn't Megatron Optimus' brother like it was revealed in the first movie? Er, wait, the robots breed in the first place? So says that Decepticon fella who now is an Autobot, who now walks with a walking stick, who can warp people from place to place, I fuck you not. But didn't we see that the Decepticons were a separate race bred in an almost hive-like environment? What the flying fuck man, I mean what the fuck?!?!!! It all doesn't make any sense. Shit just happens.

And we're expected to go with the flow. This is Bay's world after all. Where every girl is a scantily-clad skank and every marine is a blue-eyed Aryan poster boy or proud black American (playing second fiddle to the white Boss-man of course) who never harms those ignorant ragheads or chinks and are out to right the wrongs of the world (thus reinforcing the wholesome ideals and vision of every Republican out there).

So we get extended shots of the navy, of the air force, of the marines...all in glorious slow-motion...we see soldiers walking during the day, soldiers walking during the evening, soldiers walking at night, soldiers jumping out of planes, soldiers pouring out of boats, jets taking off and landing, navy ships sailing, crewmen running about, soldiers firing big guns, even bigger tanks firing their bigger canons, and even a bigger aircraft carrier firing the biggest motherfucking gun you'd ever see...you could almost sense Bay getting a hard-on filming those pristine uniforms, the hard machinery, the killer sizing-up of weaponry...Now who's got the biggest gun of them all? Bay seems to say: Why it's me of course! Now come ye geekboys of the world, enjoy this huge gun of mine while it pounds you up your nerdy arses as I violate you in unimaginable ways. You could almost hear his insane cackling in the background.

Then, we get the gratuitous nudity. And not the good kind, mind. With hotties like Megan Fox and that hot Pretender-robot chick, Bay opts to show us...now wait for it...robot scrotum. Shit you, I not. Fuck you, Bay will. You couldn't make this shit up.

So, what we're left with is bloody mess of a movie. No story, loud mindless action without any emotional pay-off, wafer-thin characters. Heck, am I asking too much to have at least a semi-comprehensible story while I watch giant robots beating each other up? I'm not asking for much here, I'm not expecting the Remains of the Day when I watch a movie called Transformers. But, for the love of all things good and pure, at least pretend like you're making an effort! This flaming turd makes the first movie feel like The Godfather in comparison. I bet Bay is thinking of introducing slant-eyed ninja robots or dread-locked pot-smoking robots in the third film as I write this, while finding a way to introduce robot manure too, and of course, more of those kinky guns and macho soldiers, probably without all that cumbersome uniform-shit to get in the way of those glistening sweaty hard bodies.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

178. Fortune's Fool

Thus said the heir of Montague, Shakespeare's immortally romantic and tragic protagonist.

Perhaps we are all are, to a certain extent. Some things happen beyond our control, and you just gotta flow with it. Lock and load, push and shove, rock and roll...all that, and maybe more.

We've all encountered a moment in our lives, when we realised, there are larger forces at work, unseen yet present. And in those moments, perhaps there is a little despair, a little joy, and makes us look back with a melancholy dispostion.

What's one to do? Be steadfast perhaps, always keep hope in light of hopelessness, keep joy in the face of desolation.

Keep those promises of your youth, lest we forget it in once the noontide of our glory has come to pass...and swear not by the moon, for it is inconstant.