Cut to the chase: Exactly what it’s meant to be, Transformers: Dark of the Moon is the quintessential summer blockbuster extravaganza, offering breath-taking CGI mayhem like only Michael Bay could deliver. It’s surely flimsy on plot and characterization; but it more than makes up for it with what we actually want to see – giant battling robots and twisted metal carnage.
Let’s take the stigma off it all for one second: the Transformers series has never been about much more than a glorified visual orgy of cars, robots, and explosions. So, anyone heading into Michael Bay’s newest onslaught on the human eyeball and eardrum should know that Transformers: Dark of the Moon offers exactly – and only – what Bay promises to deliver.
Michael Bay is a man of extremes. He knows what he wants and knows what he’s good at. He rarely leaves any desires unfulfilled, any thoughts unexpressed. And through the years, a few things have become clear: the man knows his way around an action sequence better than anyone else in the industry. He can make anyone getting out of a car look like the coming of Christ. He likes his women hot, cars fast, explosions loud, and American flags billowing against the gleaming sunset. He loves everything patriotic, militaristic, and materialistic, shamelessly plugging each element into every glossy, lens-flared, slow-motioned camera move. So if you’re expecting anything beyond a glorified exercise in CGI puppetry and heavy-handed commercialism in a film, Bay is surely not the man for you.
Transformers: Dark of the Moon is a visceral, adrenaline-pumping, ear-piercing, chest-thumping barrage of pyrotechnic diarrhea that borders on incomprehensible. The story is simple: the lunar race of the 1960’s was actually an attempt to cover up the presence of The Arc, an alien warship containing a technology powerful enough to shepherd Cybertron to Earth and in the process, enslave the planet as we know it. Naturally, Earth’s fate hangs in the hands of Sam Witwicky (Shia Labeouf), his supermodel girlfriend Carly (Rosie Huntington-Whiteley), and the handful of Autobots who swear to protect the human race against the tyranny of the Decepticons.
So let’s get to the real question: how’s the action? Simply put, pretty fucking amazing.
Finally harnessing 3D technology to its seemingly maximum potential, the film catapults into a different gear with each subsequent action sequence. You might think seeing various pieces of combustion-engine vehicles changing into robots would get old after a few times; but honestly, I still forget to blink each time the robots come onscreen. You might think 3D technology has quickly become overhyped and underwhelming; but here, they offer a depth to the vertigo and richness to the landscape that’s much more complementary than distracting. You might even think slow-motion shots are grossly overused and cheesy; but really, these are the money shots that will make your jaw drop in amusement as much as amazement.
Bay builds up a relatively calm storm for most of the film until he knocks the technological ball out of the park with the final hour-long climax. It’s an exercise in over-the-top action choreography as much as guilty-pleasure robotic mayhem. Each “wow” shot, whether it’s countless soldiers skydiving out of a burning helicopter or Bumblebee transforming into robot form only to capture Sam and swiftly shift back to a Camaro, inevitably adds to the visual splendor that is this technological orgasm of a movie. I can just imagine Bay sitting in his director’s seat, basking in the glow of each gear, screw, and bolt glistening with an intensity that’s unmistakably pure escapist eye-candy.
Once you step outside the action, the film invariably begins to stumble. Its plot is barely serviceable but at least, simple enough to follow (unlike the monstrosity that was Revenge of the Fallen). The tone shifts wildly and abruptly, ranging from homoerotic bathroom jokes to smoldering civilian skeletons lying in the streets of Chicago. The characters don’t seem more mature as much as more jaded. Labeouf loses much of the charm he so effortlessly exuded in the first film and instead, spends most of the time moping, crying, and of course, screaming (but he does a fine job with what he’s given). Additionally, I must admit newcomer Victoria’s Secret model Rosie Huntington-Whiteley delivers a surprisingly decent performance (and looks pretty good doing it), enough to make me forget all about Megan-what’s-her-name. To round out the cast this time, Bay also introduces John Malkovich (in a cheesy but amusing role), Alan Tudyk (in a cheesy but more amusing role), Frances McDormand (in a relatively boring role), Patrick Dempsey (in an even more relatively boring role), and the ubiquitous Ken Jeong (in a wildly polarizing role).
When all is said and done, Bay simply doesn’t fool around with plot, mood, tension, or characters. Surely, who has time for all that when there are so many robots and explosions to cram into the film? He may struggle with some subtler aspects of storytelling (a particular cut between the Moon and Huntington-Whiteley’s ass comes to mind); but what he does well, he does damn well.
Perhaps one day we’ll see Bay flex some more psychological or emotional muscles. But until then, he’ll probably continue to crank out increasingly destructive but undeniably amusing displays of pyrotechnic Bayhem. And I’ll probably continue enjoying every damn frame of it.
