And so it was today. And so it has been for the past few weeks. First, there was STAR TREK, a very decent sci-fi adventure (god save me for uttering those words) made better by some superb performances, clever plotting and pitch-perfect self-awareness. What Star Trek did, it seemed to me, was take a franchise that was beloved but flawed, and keep the love whilst carefully showing that this was no continuation, instead a timely rebirth. It was exhilarating, funny, moving, but most of all very human, and was a triumphant success.
The same cannot, I repeat, CANNOT be said for ANGELS AND DEMONS, a torrid and ludicrous attempt at entertainment borne from the sceptic womb of Dan Brown and helmed by the usually reliable Ron Howard. Now, if Star Trek was the playboy bunny who turned out to have a PhD in particle science, Angels is the cocaine-riddled stripper who takes your money and then takes a piss on the stage, because that's what she thinks you like. It is an almighty guff of a movie, a tour de force of bad acting, bad writing, bad editing and overall bad movie-making. It makes The Da Vinci Code look like Schindler's List, it is that nonsensical, that meaningless.
And so we come to TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN, the big swollen testicle of a cherry atop the summer's Hollywood bakewell...
It is a nail-bitingly awful thing to have to write but the second film of the Transformers franchise is not as bad as Angles and Demons. It isn't. It should be, and god knows it tries, but it can't quite get there, Angels is really that bad. What Transformers is though, is a huge festering pile of failure; failed in almost everything that it tries. It is crammed to the brim with gags, but never really funny. It is relentlessly fast and action-packed, yet one of the most boring films I have ever seen. And for all of the never-ending exposition and explanation, scene after scene after scene of "we need to find this" and "you have to destroy that", it is utterly and overwhelmingly baffling.
It cannot even be argued that those responsible for this film have tried anything new, that they have been in any way daring. If anything it is even more cliche-ridden than the first outing. From the very start, the movie is devoid of ambition, (apparently uninspired by recent ground-breaking summer successes such as The Dark Knight and Star Trek, even Pirates of the Caribbean) and delivers a tiresome, pain-staking montage/voiceover sequence that does nothing but suggest that there is more of the same inane story-telling to come. It is not a tool that should be needed in modern film-making, let alone in a sequel. A sequel is a continuation, and shouldn't need setting up. That is the job of the prequel. It boggles the mind.
And trust me, it continues to boggle the mind. The story is so dense, so layered with ludicrous notions of space battles and mind-altering metal, that the effect of every new revelation, every obvious explanation and seminar, feels more like a man on a beach, desperately trying to dig himself out of a pit of sand as the water comes flooding in. It is a tiring process, and it got the best of me. I confess that during the final, super-swollen sequence of tumbling and shouting, of explosive heroics, I nodded off. Just for a few moments, mind, but still, it was first time, I think, that this has ever happened to me. And I've seen The Interpreter...
There are some things that I would keep in this film, and if it were up to me to remake it entirely, then I would keep a tight grip on little Shia LeBeouf. I think he's incredibly charming, a very funny and absorbing actor, and I sympathise with him greatly for having to act opposite the utterly talentless and soulless Megan Fox. With every trouty pout, every squinting of her bizarrely thin eyes, she did nothing but convince me that she had been cast purely on her looks. And she's not even as attractive as she was in the first film. Her lips have almost doubled in size! She looks like she's had her chin trapped in a vase for the past two years.
Apart from LeBeouf, there is some relief in the form of Julie White and Kevin Dunn, who play LeBeouf's parents, Judy and Ron, and who make a brilliant onscreen couple and provide enough laughs to get us through the opening hour or so. But when they leave it is straight back into the silliness, and slapstick takes over. Sam (LeBeouf), goes to college, where everyone is beautiful, and apparently all study astrology, and his room-mate, Leo, is insufferable, a hideous buffoon from beginning to end, and due to be the centrepiece of my nightmares for months to come (or at least until the new Jim Carrey film).
I feel as though I could go on forever, there are so many bad things I would like to say about "Revenge...". However, I feel it would be appropriate to leave you with my all-time favourite example of how not to make films:
As the movie draws to a close, and everything has been redeemed, LeBeouf is standing on the tip of an all-American aircraft carrier, when Optimus Prime approaches him across the tarmac (how his colossal weight doesn't pull him through the deck is my first question...). "Thank you, Sam, for saving my life." Optimus growls, as if he were doing an impression of a stoned Batman. "Thank you for believing in me" says LeBeouf, somehow with a straight face. And they stand, staring out over the ocean, man and robot in perfect harmony. It was a beautiful moment, but all I could think of was how much I wouldn't to leap into the screen, stroll up behind the two of them and cough into my hand. "Sorry to interrupt," I would say, "but I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for reminding me just how much I hate you. I was blind but now I see. Thank you. Anyway, as you were..."
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