Transformers: Age of Extinction

Surprisingly watchable for its first thirty minutes, then becomes the movie you always knew it was going to be when you saw MB plastered over it. Two fucking hours of it. You can almost see after every soul-stripping, product placing, exploitative, uniquely ugly, relentlessly sense-assaulting shot the obituary of New Hollywood being written in front of your eyes. Speaking as a child born in the mid-1980s with a healthy collection of beloved G1 Transformers toys still sitting in my attic, waiting for the next set of young, dexterous hands to unlock their magic, and as a ravenous devotee of the '86 animated film, this is an embarrassment.