I'm telling you this because, quite clearly, I have no critical capacity in regards to Transformers. The toys. The comics. The movies. I don't read the books, but that's a different thing. But the point here is that I'm not to be trusted.
I enjoyed the film.
It went for two and a half hours.
It had explosions. It had big set action scenes. It had a beautiful girl.
It was everything a Michael Bay film is.
With big robots.
Transforming.
Fighting.
And blowing shit up.
The ten year old in me loved it.
The thirty year old has complaints about giant robots hiding in bridges, non-existent characterisation, and the sequel set up, but the ten year old has taken him, beaten him with a bat, and locked him in a basement. His lips have been sown together. His hands broken. He will not be heard on the subject.
Fuck you, says the ten year old. Fuck you all. It was cool. It ruled.
