We went to see a cheap movie at the old school theater that shows out of date films with Karley and Sam this weekend, and naturally we chose the gaudy, ridiculous Transformers: Age of Extinction. The premise of this one was literally built on the concept of a theoretical mineral called Transformium. No, really.
I equated the experience of watching the Michael Bay film to the sensation a child diagnosed with severe ADHD must have when locked inside of a rotating kaleidoscope for 157 consecutive minutes. The movie kind of went like this:
METAL!SPECIALEFFECTS!MISSILES!MORESPECIALEFFECTS!
...cheesy throwaway tough guy one liner...
MOREMETAL! MISSILES! ROBOTSDOINGSOMERSAULTS!
LINKINPARKMUSIC!!!!!!!
...another one liner to conclude "character development"...
(repeat.)
Throw in some gratuitous shots of Mark Wahlberg's out of control biceps and that random blonde hot girl's mile-long legs (How ever DOES she manage to reapply pink lipstick in the middle of an apocalyptic robot uprising? Amazing...), pepper with a pot-bellied autobot manifestation of John Goodman, top it off with a fleet of freshly-tamed dinosaur-robot-dragons, and you have every 12-year-old halo addict's dream come true.
That, or our Saturday night. Brian and I are now sitting in our quiet apartment staring at nothing, just to detox.
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