★☆☆☆☆

Dreadful doesn’t even cover it. 

I don’t think, out of the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of films I have seen in my lifetime I have ever seen anything that relates closer to pornography than Michael Bay’s Transformers series. I am not the first to make a connection between this multi-million dollar blockbusting franchise and the world of adult entertainment. Other critics have (rightly) wailed about its crass sexualisation of a children’s toy (Mark Kermode has been very vocal on this point). Whether it’s big explosions, falling skyscrapers or women’s legs, Bay seems to think everything has the ability to get people’s blood pumping. Each scene is filmed with such primal, desperate relish, it ends up feeling pathetic and dreadfully dull.

Let’s get one major revelation out the way. Transformers: Dark of the Moon, the third film in the series, is better than the second, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. That film was horrible, nasty, vulgar, pernicious, sickening, and also managed to be immensely boring. This film is also horrible, nasty, vulgar, pernicious, sickening, and manages to be immensely boring. But it has a plot. Ah yes, that little old nugget of cinematic tradition – the plot. Strange as this may seem, it amazes me how many people are ready to like this third film simply because it has a coherent story. In my world, a story in a major blockbuster shouldn’t be a luxury, a phenomenon to be enthusiastically cheered on when it occurs in case it leaves us again on the next robot-smashing outing. People are complementing the film for finally doing what the previous instalments should have done in the first place.

It is things within this plot that I find disquieting. As you will know if you have seen the trailer, the story involves the 1960s Russia/USA space race. But of course, this momentous moment in mankind’s history was actually linked to the silly Hasbro toys. An alien Transformer-ship-type-thingy had crashed on the moon, and JFK had given his people orders to go and find out what was going on. But, a bit further on in the film, another real life event is brought into the mix: the Chernobyl disaster of ’86. Of course, this was Transformers-related as well. People had tried to master some bad-ass robot power/energy thing and, to put it as crassly as the movie portrays it, bad stuff went down. I cannot speak for other viewers, but I found this moment of the film deeply distasteful. This is a film aimed at young teenage boys, featuring big toys hitting each other, with some hot babes and ill-judged unfunny humour thrown in. And here it is using a real, devastating disaster as what is essentially ‘destruction juice’ in order to lead onto further carnage. It’s actually rather offensive.

What’s also offensive is the film’s treatment of women, something that has been present in the series from the start. Our hero (devoid of a discernable personality as ever) Sam Witwicky, played by Shia LaBeouf, has moved on from Megan Fox, his past girlfriend who was a really amazing, intelligent woman. She could do loads of things like straddle motorbikes, bend over cars, bounce her breasts while fleeing from giant robots, walk sexily, and purse her lips as if ready for whatever may come their way. Clearly she was an immensely talented actress giving her character of Mikaela Banes all the depth and soul she needed. But things went awry. Megan wasn’t rehired for this third film. That’s what happens when you liken the director to Adolf Hitler.

But sex-starved adolescence need not fear. Good old Michael Bay has hired British model Rosie Huntington-Whitely. Of course, Michael knows what makes a good actress. But just to make sure he got the right girl, he probably got in his mate and executive producer Steven Spielberg to help him cast the role of the brainless prostitute hero’s girlfriend. However, instead of going to acting schools, drama colleges, casting lists or anything of the kind, they go to their Victoria’s Secret catalogues. And they find Rosie. And she is perfect. She can do all the things Fox can do, like bend over cars, bounce her breasts while fleeing from giant robots, walk sexily, purse her lips….whatever the situation, Rosie has the capabilities. And here’s the absolute clincher: she is even worse at acting than Megan. Brilliant! Because Transformers is the only major movie franchise that relies on awful acting yet manages to convince its hoard of delusional fans that talent does not matter.

Here we come to another lesson Michael has learned. Acting is hard. His “actors” Shia and Rosie are having a bit of difficulty. And, although he loves terrible acting (he is the guy, of course, that brought us Pearl Harbor), he’s not a total idiot. He knows Transformers 2 was missing something. So he has hired in some guest stars: France McDormand and John Malkovich. They come in to get the acting done, in a way one may hire in some builders brick up that dilapidated garden wall to keep the neighbours happy. As Mark Kermode on Radio 5 rightly said, the acting is like a special effect in itself. Bay throws in some Actors to do some real Acting and hopefully people won’t realise that the whole thing is dire. Sadly, this doesn’t work. Bay hasn’t channelled the talents of McDormand and Malkovich (who play Big Important Boss Type People Who Walk Around And Shout A Lot) and therefore inspired everyone to raise their game. He has infected them with his particular breed of non-acting, where everyone plays empty caricatures of vaguely recognisable characters from other films, then move aside while more massive robots punch the life out of each other.

Lastly, (well, almost lastly) there is the subject of the RMH. What is RMH I hear you say? Well this is my new abbreviation for the three things that the most barrel-scraping, truly nasty filmmakers will try to get into their movies at all costs: Racism, Misogyny and Homophobia. If you have read my review of The Hangover: Part II, you will know that I will not tolerate these three things in modern-day cinema. There is no excuse for them. I don’t want to dwell too long on this – I find it ugly to talk about such things – but someone needs to pull the film up on it, so here goes. Cruel racial stereotypes are not funny or acceptable, especially in a film with a young following in mind. Misogyny, and the leery sexualisation and objectification of women is not cool. And those who claim the scenes that show Rosie scampering between wrecked buildings actually empower her, y’know, in a feminist sense are either being wilfully absurd or incredibly stupid. And last but not of least importance is the homophobia. It is indefensible, especially in a film that will probably be acted out in the playground afterwards. Transformers 3 is the second film I have seen this summer that reminds us that those homo freaks, the ones that do, like, sex stuff with men, are real sick people. I doubt very much most normal adults believe this venomous nonsense. Let’s hope the young teens who go to see this film don’t hop along Hollywood’s current hate-wagon and enjoy Michael Bay’s merry ride around his circus of bigotry.

It’s annoying that those who hated Transformers 2 back in 2009 were told to, in the words of Megan Fox, ‘shut the f*** up and go have fun’, and now two years later members of the cast and crew, including Bay, Fox and LaBeouf have all said they thought the movie was crap. Shia ‘hated’ it. Bay has slated it. Fox has famously compared working on it to Nazi Germany. So please, can’t we just save time and admit this one is awful now and get on with our lives. Oh no. Once Bay has got your money, he may consider it. But not yet. Everyone involved in the film is still of the ‘shut the f*** up and go have fun’ mentality.

What’s rather interesting is how a film so morally repugnant (and I said the same about The Hangover: Part II) can also be so boring. It’s close to three hours long, and I have never felt so restless in my life whilst sitting through it. The action in the last hour is constant and mind-numbing. There is no tension or dramatic resonance to the CGI fests we are asked to gasp at and applaud. Buildings fall down. Robots make lots of noise. We are meant to be bowled over by the awesomeness of the whole thing.  I am aware that a lot of special effects experts spent a long time making this film look amazing, and in terms of technical spectacle the film is flawless. But we reached the point long ago where big bangs and 9/11-inspired destruction were enough to entertain us. If it’s not tasteless (and much of this is), it’s yawn-inducingly dull – two ingredients that don’t equal good entertainment.

This film will make loads of money. This doesn’t mean it is good. Some people think money and quality go hand in hand, and they are entitled to believe that. Others will look past such a superficial analysis and see what Transformers really is – a big abyss full of the things that are nasty and horrible in the world of cinema. It has a disgusting underlying contempt for its audience and relies on their blind stupidity. Oh, and the 3D is dreadful. But expecting otherwise would be like hoping for one’s root canal surgery to be painless. Save yourselves, save the world, stay away from Transformers: Dark of the Moon.

Transformers: Dark of the Moon (2011), directed by Michael Bay, is distributed by Paramount Pictures, Certificate 12A.

Text © Barnaby Walter. Image © Paramount