Transformers 3 is a payoff. At the last quarter of the film, you will witness an amazing, mind-blowing, visual spectacle of Cleopatric proportions. Proceeding that, you’ll be subjected to moronically cheap “humour”, deviant shots of the next dolled-up generic chick Hollywood’s trying to pimp out and irritating songs crow-barred in to sell a soundtrack, all wrapped up in a predictably incompetent plot needlessly drawn-out to give the illusion of epic-ness. Many will make that trade with ease, and I won’t blame you. For me however, I was left watching a two-hour train wreck followed by an explosive half-hour train wreck.
YEAH... NAH...
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