Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen

Review By: J.P. Mangalindan
JPMangalindan@TheCinemaSource.com

Movie Grade: C–

Credit Michael Bay for making the first Transformers movie the successful, explosion-happy film that it was, focusing on the robots, and all those awesome whiz-bang explosions. So understandably, when Bay and company drummed up the sequel, they thought that more of everything–more action, better special effects–was in order. However, they obviously didn’t know when enough was enough, and Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen is the unfortunate result: a sprawling, aimless two-and-a-half hour machination that starts off as a cheeky, entertaining teen action movie but devolves into a sprawling, mindless combat exercise with seemingly no end in sight.

What you need to know: there’s a weapon of mass destruction hidden somewhere in Egypt that’ll destroy the Earth’s sun and transform the supernova into usable energy for the Decepticons’ unimaginable, but unequivocally diabolical purposes. Meanwhile, Sam is about to start college at a plush Ivy League–no, I’m not bitter–and has promised Michaela they’ll maintain a long-distance relationship thanks, in no small part, to the convenience, and inherent kinkiness, of video chat. After Sam accidentally discovers a sliver of the AllSpark, the information from the AllSpark, which includes clues to the location of this apocalyptic weapon, is transferred into Sam’s brain.

Make much sense? Sort of. Do you really care? Probably not. Megan Fox was recently quoted in Esquire as saying that you don’t go to see Transformers for the acting. Ain’t that the truth? While Shia LaBeouf and company make the most of their cookie-cutter roles–there are several particularly comical moments involving Sam’s mom and a pot-induced high when she’s dropping him off at the dorms in the first half-hour–there’s little-to-nothing resembling human interaction in the last hour-and-a-half save for indecipherable screaming and shouting courtesy of LaBeouf. As for the bodacious Fox, who deserves all the attention she’s received for her “body of work,” she does little more but run around and pine for Sam whining, “Why can’t you tell me you love me? Tell me you love me!!”

Here, Bay seems to have forgotten how to properly pace an action film so that audiences can appreciate the actual action. In order to do so, there must be slower, purposeful moments in between to allow people to catch their breaths. But there’s none of that. The actions is incessant, scene after scene scene, each one trying to outdo the one before with even more moving parts and explosions, to the point where watching Revenge of the Fallen feels like a torturous test of mental endurance. And when there is the slightest glimpse of human interaction, it almost always occurs during sunset, which would be theatrically effective if Bay didn’t employ this mood lighting for dramatic effect at least seven–count ‘em, seven– times throughout Revenge of the Fallen.

Revenge of the Fallen, like the Pirates of the Caribbean and Matrix trilogies before it, suffers ...