Everybody has been asking me if I’ve seen Transformers yet. I haven’t.
I have not seen Wolverine. I still have not seen The Spirit. As I intimated back in December, I am done with blockbuster, geek-pandering movies that I am supposed to “have to see,” that I know are going to be disappointments. I mean, a movie costs $8.50 here in the glorious backwater of Scranton these days. Even if I am a theater junkie and go at least once a week, I’m not going to willfully watch garbage if I don’t choose to/have to.
Look, Transformers, I can get past Roger Ebert’s review, because it sounds like something akin to “This movie is loud and based on toys; I’m too old for this!” I can get past io9′s masturbatory review because it exists only for hipsters (who now have a reason to haughtily explain Un Chien Andalou to their friends) to laugh at and to show their unhip friends. What I can’t get past is the litany of unspun, unvarnished facts about the movie that convince me that it is never worth my $8.50, money I will not spend to justify what I already know.
So, yeah.
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While reading the IO9 review, I couldn’t help but remember the admonishment of a college writing professor who always advised “Write. Don’t just vomit words onto the page.”
That review was an awful lot of vomit.