Jean-Paul’s Rating: -10/ 5 stars

Bottom Line: Every time you see a Michael Bay film, god kills a kitten.

I am a masochist.  That is the only reason I can give you for why I went to see this movie after hating every other “Transformers” movie that Michael Bay has released.  “But this one will be different,” I reasoned with myself, showing all the signs of being in an abusive relationship.  “This one has Mark Wahlberg, I like Mark Wahlberg.  Michael Bay has changed, I just know he has.”  I need an intervention badly.

The movie started off decently enough in that “so bad it’s good” kind of way.  You have an intro where it is revealed that aliens destroyed the dinosaurs by turning them all into metal despite the fact that none of the present dinosaur remains are actually metal for some reason except one that they find in a mining complex.  There is all of this really amusingly bad dialogue and acting between Mark Wahlberg, the Michael Bay token hot chick, and the Michael Bay token annoying sidekick guy.  Then Kelsey Grammer and Stanley Tucci show up as the villains and I’m thinking that this may be a decent movie after all.  Boy was I wrong.

The rest of the movie was an insult to good taste and intelligence.  There is not a single plot point that makes even the remotest sense.  For instance, all the transformers are being hunted by a special branch of the CIA because of their metal which should have been in abundance on Earth because of the previously alluded to dinosaur extinction.  The action scenes are an assault on the senses that make no coherent sense whatsoever (except for a pretty decent fight scene between Optimus Prime and random space robot dude #1).  This, too, must explode for no reason at all because there hasn’t been a good explosion for over one second.Even ignoring the fact that there were supposed to only be 30 enemy robots in the final epic battle but the good guys ended um killing umpteen millions of them, the enemy robots have the ability to transform into this swarm of metal that can apparently fly anywhere and yet they consistently decide to turn into cars and robots.  All the better to shoot you, my dear.

I feel stupider after having seen this movie.  The following is a partial list of what would have been a better use of my time than spending the 2 hours and 40 minutes it took to watch this clunker: watching lead paint dry, peel, and crack for 40 years and then eating the paint chips, running a barefoot marathon over a surface of broken glass, getting killed by a pair of tweezers that was only used to pick the skin off of my body one tweeze at a time.