For me, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen simply is what it is – more of the same, only louder – and, as such, can be appreciated in much the same way one might appreciate a vertiginous spin on a theme park ride, or two hours at a dance club where the techno-pop is turned up to somewhere past 11, maybe even 12. I saw it just last night, and I’ve already forgotten most of it, but I can’t truthfully say I was ever bored by any of the shape-shifting, gear-grinding, butt-kicking robot-on-robot action.
To be sure, all the heavy-metal mayhem (along with the overbearing musical score) drowns out a goodly amount of what the actors (and the robots) say. But you can hear just enough snatches of dialogue to suss out why this person moves from Point A to Point B, and that robot wants to do one thing or destroy another. The actors are… Well, they are, for the most part, upstaged by the machinery. Even so, director Michael Bay makes the most of Megan Fox as a special effect, often filming her in slow motion so that, as she and co-star Shia LaBeouf outrun explosions of various kinds, it appears two piglets are wrestling beneath her tight shirt.
And if this review reads like something less than a full-throated rave, trust me, Roger Ebert was far less kind.
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