The Matrix Reloaded (2003) review

The Matrix trilogy's goal is to sell simpleton philosophy to restless postmodern teenagers and twentysomethings too preoccupied and impatient to actually struggle through legitimate works by the likes of Jung or Kierkegaard (or Baudrillard or Kojève), reinforcing their already egocentric perception that everyone is a conformist but them (notice the endlessly replicating Agent Smiths), that everyone's a part of the "machine" but them, and that they're the only ones who know what's "going on" ("Don't you see it's all empty? That capitalism's a ruse?" etc.). Part Two is back with a lot more of the same: hammy acting, intentionally muddled plot and unintentional awfulness: in one scene, a clichéd Frenchman demonstrates how a woman eating a programmed (?) chocolate cake can trigger an orgasm ... which ends in the woman's vagina actually exploding (this prompted loud - and I mean loud - hysterics from me, only to discover, minutes later, I was the only one laughing in the jam-packed theater). The Freeway Sequence is unquestionably spectacular, but what's with the Benetton-inspired dance scene (was David LaChapelle one of the art directors?)? Oh, and regarding the Wachowski Bros.' refusal to speak to the media: don't they have to make a work/works of genius before they can officially become recluses?