#2. Godzilla's Scientists Don't Care About Scientific Discovery
The latest Godzilla is two hours of whispered conversation building up to 15 minutes of giant monster backyard wrestling. The movie starts with the discovery of one hulking ancient insect beast, called a MUTO, because action figures need short, uncomplicated names. Godzilla resurfaces after a decades-long slumber to slay the monster, but before he can, a second larger, more MUTOier monster escapes from a stronghold of radioactive garbage in Yucca Mountain. It goes 60 miles in the wrong direction to destroy recognizable buildings in Vegas before doubling back to meet its partner in San Francisco.
"We just thought it would be a great place to raise kids."
Why did the government have a completely intact atomic monster sitting in a fucking locker in the middle of the Nevada desert? That supposedly dead behemoth was discovered in the movie's prologue by world-renowned monster scientist Ken Watanabe, but rather than permit him or his colleague to study it, they scooped it up in an oversized garbage bag and stuffed it in a mountain, apparently to let it appreciate in value for several years before selling it on eBay. Get out of here, science -- this monster's going in our military toy box.
"Don't shoot! We promised it was mint. Do you want to fuck up our seller rating?"
But don't let that fool you -- the scientists in Godzilla hate science just as much as the military. Ken Watanabe comes to the impossible, completely unsupported conclusion that Godzilla has erupted from the bottom of the Pacific to restore the karmic "balance of nature" by killing the two MUTOs before they lay a bunch of eggs and take over the world. He just pulls this out of his ass -- the only data anyone has ever collected on Godzilla is a series of grainy videotapes documenting a handful of unsuccessful attempts to kill him with atomic bombs in the Bikini Atoll tests. Ken watched four seconds of yellow videotape of Godzilla's back and decided Godzilla was planet Earth's Hulk Hogan, and that it was useless for our mortal science and military to try to intervene.
#1. Transformers Is a World With No Scientists
Poking holes in a Transformers movie is like leaving a negative product review for anal beads -- we all know exactly what it was made for, and pointing out how superior you are to it doesn't disguise the fact that you paid for the experience. Both things are also coated in a firm layer of shit.
Anyway, every Transformers film hits the exact same beats: Evil robots suddenly appear on Earth, take credit for a major monument or historical event (the Hoover Dam, the Pyramids, the moon landing, and the extinction of dinosaurs), ineffective humans mistakenly blame the Autobots, and the Autobots save the day with a sobering dose of big swords and racism.
To be fair, one movie also involved giant robot testicles.
However, according to the prologue of the first film, the human race has been aware of the existence of Transformers since the 1930s -- they reverse engineered Megatron to produce most of our modern technology. Shouldn't all that time and energy have been spent finding a way to prepare the Earth for defense against giant shape-shifting robots from space? We have satellites that can zoom in on Osama bin Laden's backyard, and we somehow fail to notice three-story Hercules droids descending from the heavens? Megatron and Starscream spend the beginning of the third movie hiding out in the desert (Megatron is wearing a cape to shield himself from the hot sand, for some reason). At this point, those two are responsible for destroying two major cities and killing countless civilians, and they are giant glinting buildings with legs. We really have no way of locating them? Besides a few detector sentries and a single large gun we see in the second film, we've apparently gone the Godzilla route and decided that our alien robot deterrent will just be other alien robots.
Seriously, how do these things keep showing up on our planet without us realizing it? Are there no more astronomers left in this universe? Even if we hadn't had anything in the oven since discovering Megatron back in the 1930s, there are now four films in this series. They should have every available scientific mind working on a way to tell which sports car can transform into a hulking angry spacebot and which sports car is just a sports car. And yet in movie three, a steel-shredding mechanized death worm the size of 11 city blocks manages to catch us completely off-guard and eat the city of Chicago.
While asshole New Yorkers argued that their city would have tasted better.
Surely sneaking a titanic razor penis to Earth would be a notable astronomical event. It's almost as if every scientist on the planet got together and decided they wanted to see giant robots punch each other more than they wanted to keep people safe from an embarrassing series of horrific catastrophes.