|Everything about this poster is awkward.|
The likenesses between Transformers, Halo, and Battleship-the movie are many, the differences hard to glean, but there is one key distinction between the first two franchises and the last film, whose infamously red box-office gross virtually dispelled all hopes at securing a future franchise: no matter the reputation they may inculcate among some circles for being insipid male fantasies, Transformers and Halo actually have intricately shaped universes and histories which have been developed and expanded over the decade(s) through many media. Battleship is a strategy board-game from Hasbro which doesn’t even feature a basic plot, and as such it forced the filmmakers to imagine one of their own in order to prolong the run time from 10 minutes to 130. This, along with the horrible acting, jerky cinematography, repetitive action, and art design ranging from uninspired to downright goofy, is the main source of Battleship-the movie’s troubles. At its worst moments it comes across as a clichéd boy-meets-girl tale that awkwardly collided with an equally clichéd crowd-pleaser about the selfish lowlife who discovers a purpose and evolves into a higher being when he goes to war. At the film’s best moments, sitting through Battleship-the movie appropriately feels (to pull another cliché myself) like watching a ‘friend’ so absorbed in a flashy video game that he won’t even pause to let you join him.
“We are going to die. You’re going to die, I’m going to die, we’re all going to die…” (guess what comes next)
Too bad the whole movie isn’t like this.
Grade rating: Much as the monster that’s under your bed, it unapologetically wards away the life-renewing rains of rational thought like an umbrella of stupidity. Its visuals shine bright like a diamond but are wholly devoid of deeper substance, and you will be screaming for someone to please stop the music long before it’s over. To stay through it all is an exercise in S&M, and it would be readily disposable even if it was the only movie (in the world). So shut up and drive far away from any theater, rental store, or other hopeless place that distributes this drivel, this loud drunken disgrace of a good film gone bad, reloaded with chest-pumping, generically patriotic cheesiness and rated R for revolting.
All of which is to say, “C minus.”