Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen (2009)

Up until last week, I thought I understood popular culture. I knew reality television would never produce anyone but absolute cretins. I believed celebrity gossip to be a driving force behind the spread of mankind's stupidity. And I accepted no film would ever bludgeon my senses like 2005's Stealth, the Jamie Foxx actioner about a talking plane that turns evil.

And then I saw Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen and suddenly the whole world unravelled before my very bleeding eyes.

Where to start? Perhaps by pointing out that the film's robots (and I'm including the so-called humans in this category for reasons that become clearer with each chunk of moronic dialogue mumbled between explosions) are as soulless, boorish, lumbering, clunky, hulking and unnecessary as the film itself.

Granted, this is a franchise based on a toy line (and an inane one at that) and the first film could only be considered passable in a guilty, check-your-brains-at-the-door kind of way, but my God, Revenge of the Fallen is dumb, even by Transformers standards.

It's pointless dissecting the acting, casting, music, cinematography or direction, as all are as subtle as a cannonball to the face. Quite simply, it's a film where the only thing that's special are the effects, and even those are little more than a forgettable mishmash of pixels.

There's a scene towards the end of the film where, for reasons too moronic to explain, a Decepticon is seen climbing one of Egypt's Great Pyramids. As the camera pans up to reveal the robot, the audience is treated to a bird's-eye view of a pair of giant wrecking balls clanging together. Transformer testicles. Proof positive Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen is utter bollocks.

At least I still have the undeniable, unquestionable, irrefutable assumption that no film this vapid will ever become a box office hit. Oh.