5 Recent Blockbusters That Prove Movies Hate Science

To give you an even clearer picture of the negligence at work here, this is the same lab full of Ph.D.s that failed to notice one of their ape subjects was pregnant until the instant it spat out a baby. Franklin literally starts sneezing blood in the fucking office, and yet is somehow able to keep it to himself after he inexplicably decides to hide it despite knowing full well he is infected with a highly contagious blood-erupting pathogen. When he finally does decide to alert James Franco (it is standard procedure to notify James Franco in the event of any emergency), Franklin goes to the man's house and ends up sneezing on another human being, because the title of the movie clearly isn't Rise of the Planet of the People Who Use Cellphones Instead of Shambling Their Infectious Asses Through Population Centers.

Tom Cruise suddenly starts reliving the same day over and over again and learns that this was the same reason Emily Blunt was able to crack all those extraterrestrial skull domes -- she gained the same ability, which is contained within the aliens' blood. She explains that she never told anyone about it, because every time she tried, they either didn't believe her and sent her to the psych ward or did believe her and had her "dissected." That's right -- even in the alternate timelines where her superiors actually believed her fantastical time-travel gibberish, their scientific solution was to cut her into pieces like a packaged hot dog for a bowl of Beanie Weenies.

Warner Bros.
"Why do you think all our suits have can openers?"

The only person we meet who believes her is a renowned doctor who used her discovery to build a device that could potentially stop the aliens and was immediately demoted to a mechanic for his trouble. So in other words, when a war hero and a famous genius came to the leaders of the free world and simultaneously explained why the aliens could predict our every move and offered a solution to defeat them, the government's verdict was to completely bury them. After all, who has time for such outlandish lip-wiggling when giant psychic squids from beyond the stars have come to destroy the Earth?

In the second film, we meet Max, an obsessive electrical engineer who is sent by his toolbox of a boss to fix some vaguely defined electrical problem that, for some reason, is located on a circus-performer set of walkways high above a giant open-air vat of electric fucking eels.

Max is the only person left in the building at this point -- the rest of the staff has clocked out for the weekend, even the technician whom Max calls and literally begs to shut off the power to the section he is working on so he can fix the problem without exploding. Max points out how insanely dangerous this activity is, and the technician basically tells him to roll his safety manual into a tight coil and bury it deep within his own anus. Of course, Max gets electrocuted and falls directly into the vat of eels, which continue to electrocute him until he crosses the delicate boundary between "being turned into a supervillain" and "being turned into a dead body and an accident report."

Columbia Pictures
And the movie crosses the delicate boundary between "Meh" and "Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?"

At the end of the movie, the Green Goblin just sort of climbs into a suit and rockets out of Oscorp to go murder Gwen Stacy, because for reasons that cannot possibly have made any sense either in written form or when spoken aloud to a room full of professional filmmakers, tripping the alarm in Oscorp's top-secret basement weapons facility immediately opens every single vault in the facility. If you go to the mall in the middle of the night and break a window, the alarm isn't programmed to pull the shutters up on all of the stores. J.C. Penney has better security than Oscorp does, and Oscorp is supposed to be run by the top scientific minds in the entire world.

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.

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.

Paramount Pictures
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.