Lionel Hann | MCT

Yes, I’m defending Megan Fox, the 23-year-old sex symbol/actress who has been impossible to avoid these past few months. Fox’s currently supernova-ing celebrity might make you think that she doesn’t need any sort of defending, but I disagree. As long as people like Princeton Hynes are deriding her as a “skank” in our very own college newspaper, I will be there to come to the defense of the woman I have lost my heart to for all eternity.

One of the first complaints people make about Fox is that she hasn’t proven herself as an actress. Well, no one, including Fox, denies her fame has nothing to do with her acting. She is upfront about the fact that the Transformers films are not about the “acting experience,” and she has told GQ, “Really, my only job is to look attractive.” Fox is famous because she was lucky enough to be cast in “Transformers,” and Hollywood, the entertainment media and the public immediately anointed her America’s newest sex symbol. Our culture has a long tradition of turning women into sex symbols regardless of talent, and to hold this tradition against Fox is simply irrational.

Furthermore, the various pejorative insults launched against Fox—that she’s trashy and a “skank”—are completely unwarranted. Unlike the trainwreck girls who dominated the tabloids for most of the decade, Fox keeps out of trouble, and is never seen wasted and coked out like Lindsay, Britney or Paris were in their prime.  By all accounts, in her private life Fox is responsible and behaves respectably (especially compared to some of her peers).

Fox may be less promiscuous and less prone to binge-drinking than a large percentage of Wash. U. students, but Hynes still has a problem with what Fox chooses to wear on the red carpet. Fox’s outfits are consistently over the top, flagrantly acknowledging the sex appeal responsible for her career in the first place. To Hynes, this is unacceptable, but in my opinion it’s a smart move. It demonstrates that Fox is aware of her celebrity persona and that she knows how to manipulate it. This is America, and Hollywood is a business—why blame Fox for playing the right publicity cards?

Fox’s red-carpet aesthetic is also an honest reflection of the culture that put her in the spotlight. It’s an unapologetic, in-your-face display of a truth most people would prefer to ignore: Our culture still loves to objectify its women. Fox has no intention of pretending that isn’t the case, and, considering the source of her fame, it’s ridiculous to expect her to. Fox is honest, even in her dress, and that’s a trait that’s getting harder and harder to find in the media these days. Personally, I find it refreshing. Fox doesn’t sell the Disney fairy tales Hynes wants her to, but that’s not her job, and the expectation for her to do so is completely outmoded.

But enough about Fox’s appearance. In addition to having perfect bone structure, Fox is one of the funniest starlets to grace magazine covers in a long time. Fox has a biting, sarcastic sense of humor, and she doesn’t censor herself in interviews. When asked by an Entertainment Weekly reporter what she thought could be the worst-case scenario for her career five years in the future, she responded, “Umm…that I’d be on ‘The Hills?’” She dryly describes her first movie, “Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen,” as “one of the cinematic greats.” She claims to be Alan Alda’s doppelganger. Her take on “High School Musical” is surreal: She told “Esquire,” “Let me tell you what it’s really about. ‘High School Musical’ is about this group of boys who are all being molested by the basketball coach, who is Zac Efron’s dad. It’s about them struggling to cope with this molestation. And they have these little girlfriends, who are their beards. Oh, and somehow there’s music involved.” Oh, and she adds, “You have to get stoned and watch it.” What’s not to love?

Oh, wait. That’s right. The 34th season’s premiere is the last Saturday of September. And its host isn’t some respectable starlet like “Mamma Mia’s” Amanda Seyfried. No, the host of the new season’s first episode of SNL is Seyfried’s “Jennifer’s Body” co-star, Megan Fox. A collective cheer from the readers of Maxim is in order.

For those who have lived (not begrudgingly so) under a rock for the past year or so, Megan Fox is an actress—that word being used lightly, of course. She made her start in bit parts on sitcoms and then opposite Lindsay Lohan in “Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen.” Fox saw huge success, however, when she played  car-washing mechanical genius Mikaela Banes in the “Transformers” movie and its sequel. She was soon voted one of the top 20 hottest women in the world (2007, 2008, and in 2009 she broke the top five) by Maxim, voted the sexiest female alive by FHM and frequently compared to Angelina Jolie.

Angelina? Yes, media hounds have gone so far as to compare Fox to Ms. Jolie. Dark hair and tattoos aside, there is absolutely no resemblance between the two. Although Jolie’s Oscar-winning role in “Girl, Interrupted” wasn’t the best Best Supporting Actress performance of that year (and her 2008 nomination for “Changeling” was a joke), she is a proven actress who can deliver some stunning performances. Fox, on the other hand, is flat performance-wise and makes whatever emotion she’s going for—whether melancholy or joyous—look as if she’s deciding which outfit to wear or what to order off a menu.

OK. Fox is hot. You can’t deny that. She oozes sex each and every time she’s on a screen anywhere. And in today’s society, that’s really all that’s needed. Fox knows that. Google “megan fox red carpet” (with Safesearch on, for your own good) and count the number of inches of leg that are visible. She’s a sucker for a low décolletage and a high slit. With her, the thin line between sexy and scandalous blurs constantly. Sadly, instead of trying to tread classier waters, she usually opts for the second choice, hoping her image as a sexpot will be further heightened. Even sadder is how obvious it is that the Tennessee native is not much more than L’Oreal and mascara—no talent to speak of, not an iota of sense, and an image that’s only perpetuated by how good her makeup is that day and how pouty her lips are. She’s slimy, and she’s the reason the television is not worthy of being turned on anymore. People like her give children the thought that they can enter “the biz” if they show enough skin or if they act promiscuously. At least in the old days, stars like Marilyn Monroe used their sexuality to empower females and told their stories to promote Hollywood Cinderella tales. Now, it’s so easy for trashy actresses like Megan Fox to wash up on the streets of New York or Los Angeles and be on the cover of Rolling Stone (whose last issue has Fox as the feature story).

There will be many more magazine covers, many more movies, many more guys going ga-ga. But will Megan Fox be remembered as a star of substance?  Hell no. Possibly the playmate of the decade. Possibly. Barring that, the masses can just hope for a day when skank-dom isn’t applauded and when actual talent is appreciated again. Until then, everyone can just tune in to “SNL” this Saturday and mute the sound.

Jennifer (Megan Fox) prepares to feast on her best friend’s boyfriend, Chip (Johnny Simmons), in “Jennifer’s Body.” (Doane Gregory | Twentieth Century Fox)

And amid an eager chorus of pimple-faced nods, you might find one kid, a shrimpy future lawyer who probably has no business playing football in the first place, demanding a more specific situation. “Why would she kill me? Would it hurt? Would I be remembered as the biggest player who ever lived?” he asks.

And instead of answering with her traditional dead arm, screenwriter Diablo Cody, who previously answered the slumber party favorite “What would you do if you were impregnated by Michael Cera and had a hamburger phone?” sets up an equally plausible scenario:

Jennifer (Megan Fox) is a girl with more than her fair share of sexual liberation. She struts through her school’s hallway with the appropriate amount of flirty lip biting and exposed navel that we have come to expect from a teen movie hottie.

But when a struggling indie band (led by Adam Brody, who should refrain from singing in the future) sequesters her after a gig gone awry, Jennifer becomes host to a demon libido, which causes her to indiscriminately seduce every boy who is given a line to speak—and then eat them. For if Jennifer wants to keep her flawless skin, sparkling eyes, and status as “would-you-rather” queen, she will have to continue her sexy cannibalism or (gasp!) accept average looks.

We see all these unfold from the eyes of Needy (Amanda Seyfried, no longer a Mean Girl), through the lenses of her unfortunate glasses and unresolved feelings toward her nymphomaniac BFF. Witnessing Jennifer’s Jekyll-and-Hyde behavior causes Needy the prescribed amount of anxiety, but it’s hard to focus on that with Megan Fox standing right next to her.

From here onward, the movie settles into a pattern consisting of Jennifer taking off her shirt, people sneaking around old, creaky houses, and typical high-school soap-opera drama. But as many genres as the movie imitates, it doesn’t really get any of them right. The few suspenseful moments end predictably, the special effects (mostly of Megan Fox’s jaw unhinging with fitting screeches) don’t generate any shock, and the jokes that don’t come at the expense of indie-rock bands generally fall flat. There’s also a paranormal research montage that seems to be ripped frame for frame from “Twilight,” which I like to think is evidence of a connection between two of the worst movies in the past two years.

The dialogue in the movie is also pretty stale. Two years ago, everyone fell in love with snappy little Juno and her real-life counterpart Diablo Cody. And why not? She got Rainn Wilson to say, “Homeslice.” But in “Jennifer’s Body,” Cody’s hipster wordplay is practically a dialect. Everyone speaks it, but it’s only fresh when the adults (Amy Sedaris and J.K. Simmons—that’s right, there are only two) do it. Everyone else sounds like an obnoxious teenage girl simultaneously sounding too smart and too stupid for her own good.

The humor, horror and dialogue in “Jennifer’s Body” are so out of sync that the movie feels like a satire, though I don’t know what it’s a satire of. While the plot could either be a messy allegory of eating disorders or an expression of homoerotic jealousy between best friends, the real point is moot. No matter how bad a movie starring Megan Fox is, she’s still out of your league.