So after the debacle that was Bol, your (least) favourite blogger went on undeterred to the next big show at the local cinema. Yes, you guessed it, Conductors! No wait, Generators! That’s not right, Resistances? Eddy Currents? Faraday’s Laws of Induction? Argh! It was the movie about the giant talking robots.
Expecting three times the action, three times the Megan Fox and three times the giant talking robots, and unperturbed by the rising costs of commuting on a self-owned car, I woke up one Tuesday morning, saddled myself in the driving seat of my Toyota and drove straight to the gym, because the show wasn’t till half-past three in the afternoon.
When I came back I was all sweaty and gooey (I fell in a puddle of tar) so I took a shower, wondering what Autobot was my favourite. Well, I reasoned, since I only knew the name of one, Bumblebee, it logically followed that he must be it. Then I wondered what Autobot was my least favourite and here I must confess, Bumblebee put me in sort of a predicament and made me contradict myself. Fucking yellow bellied aluminum asshole.
Anyway, soon the people I was going to go with became the people I was going with and I entered the theatrical enclave in the middle of fucking nowhere with much enthusiasm and money, both of which I would leave without. The ticket cost 500 rupees, 150 for the glasses. I told the guy I already wear glasses but he said these were special, 3D. I told him he looked the same through them, really, just a bit darker, something I wouldn’t have imagined possible, but he said they were only for use on the screen, I said normally I put them on the nose but he said please go away now you’re blocking the line.
Inside, I ordered some popcorn. Then I read the price of popcorn on the counter and canceled my order. Then I read the prices for the rest of the items and slowly stepped away from the counter, cleaning the place where I’d put down my palms with the inside of my shirt, just in case.
Afterwords I went up to the screen hall and sat down quietly in my seat. Soon something came up on the screen. A giant walking shadow of a man, followed by another, followed by another, followed by the shadow of a man with cylindrical limbs which he passed on to the others. The special effects in this movie were amazing.
Then the title song started booming accompanied, unsurprisingly, by the titles. Tanformer &. Staring, Shi’a La’oaf. Joan Torture. Ropie Huntingsomethingortheother can’t see a fucking thing. Patricia Dampsey. Patrice Dimpley. Fatrick Dumpley. Better put the 3D glasses on like the nice man said. Oh, Patrick Dempsey. I was better off without them.
Ok, here we go. Transformers: Dark Side of the Moon. Wait, wasn’t this a Pink Floyd album? Anyway, excited! Hold on, that isn’t Megan Fox! Right, still somewhat excited. Okay, new chick has the same amount of Botox in her face but not the pencilled-in eyebrows, the rhinoplasty and the whore lashes that make Megan such a natural beauty.
Right, there’s that guy from Gay’s Anatomy. Now this is playing out like an episode of Gay’s Anatomy. Still no giant talking robots. Little dweeb is looking for a job, little dweeb is meeting John Malkovich, little dweeb is having sex in a toilet booth with the Asian guy from Heroes, or maybe The Hangover, you know what they say, they all look the same.
Little dweeb is arguing with his mom and dad. Yawn. Oh, giant talking robots! Aweso…back to the little dweeb. Little dweeb is throwing a tantrum. Little dweeb is arguing with Frances McDoormat who is clearly in the wrong movie, seeing as how she’s playing Coco Chanel instead of whatever government agent she’s supposed to be. She shuffles a lot of brightly coloured hand bags. Little dweeb gets depressed. Questions his worth. Wallows in self-pity.
Boring. Oooh, they found a giant talking robot on the moon…but it’s really old and has face wrinkles. Why the fuck does a robot have face wrinkles? Back to the little dweeb and his annoyance at being kept away from the giant talking robots, which is fast becoming my annoyance too. Oh, here’s a shiny looking car, what does it transform into? Autobot? Decepticon? The result of an illicit union between an Autobot and a Decepticon? Oh, okay, nothing. It’s just a car, and that’s just a trash can and that’s just an ordinary piece of inexpensive furniture.
Can’t the seats in this stupid theater transform into something a bit more comfortable? Little dweeb goes to meet bigger dweeb and they all move into not-Megan Fox’s house. Can’t this lady in the next seat go two seconds without chomping on popcorn so loudly? Not-Megan Fox has walked out in a rit of fage. Little dweeb is depressed again.
Am I in the right hall? Is this the right movie? What’s that smell? Ugh, I forgot to put on deodorant didn’t I? Finally, old and wrinkly has betrayed the other giant talking robots and kicked all their metallic behinds and is about to transform. What will he become? A wheelchair? A pair of crutches? An infirmity ward? Oh, a firetruck. Original.
At least now I can look forward to lots of giant robot actio…back to the little dweeb and his girlfriend problems. Dr. Derek Shephard has kidnapped her and wants the little dweeb to wear a really expensive looking titanium watch if he wants to free her. Little dweeb swallows the bullet.
They’re putting all the giant robots on a NASA rocket now. I think they’re going away forever. I think this is the end of the movie. Good, I can barely feel my legs anymore been sitting here for two bloody hours. Hey, that’s the black guy from 2 Fast 2 Furious! Or maybe it’s Will Smith, you know what they say, they all look the same.
One token black guy later the movie is still going on. There are lots of dweebs now, running around in black uniform with their paltry guns trying to take down giant barfing robots. Yeah, they’ve pretty much stopped talking now.
Megatron is sitting in one corner looking very middle eastern, little dweeb and his girlfriend are trapped in a collapsing building. Megatron is still sitting in the corner sulking like a big girl’s blouse. What is he, on strike? Little dweeb is fighting Dr. Shephard. Megatron has started a game of solitaire. Uniformed dweebs have taken down a giant robot. A giant alien planet has emerged outside the earth’s atmosphere. Huh?
Camera pans to dweeb. Then Megatron. Then alien planet. Dweeb, Megatron, alien planet. Dweeb, Megatron, alien planet. Dweeb, Mega…bam! Everything’s dead. Optimus Prime emerges victorious, delivers a hastily prepared speech about freedom and the importance of getting enough energon to meet a robot’s daily energon needs and subtly hints at the possibility of another sequel. Then the ending credits roll. Then we all leave. Then I cry.