Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen is the dumbest yet most insanely self-confident 12-year-old you ever knew. This kid has Attention Deficit Disorder and an uncomfortable repertoire of cheap ethnic “gags.” For the first 30 minutes or so, I was willing to say: hey, at least it’s outrageously excessive in every dimension. For the next hour, I was willing to say: hey, it’s excessive. In the last 31 hours of its run-time, I kept asking Max if he had to go to the bathroom, just so I could take a break. I don’t hate this film–I *wish* it really had something like outrage on its mind. But, like 12-year-olds, it will scribble or mutter something “bad” then run around and bug the shit out of you, able to annoy but rarely breaking the skin, intent on its “intensity” but its effect is more to numb than to arouse. Even with its leering (12-year-old) attention to its skinny young vixens it is the opposite of arousing. But, verily, shit did explode.