Transformers
By Geoff HoppeJul 10, 2007 - 17:28
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| A giant Rei Ayanami is on Earth's other side. |
BSAMS is a tragic disease. It’s harrowing symptoms include copious explosions, incoherent plots, gratuitous product placement, and the occasional government official with a slight southern twang. Corollary symptoms include Bruce Willis and Samuel L. Jackson. In this review, I’d like to address the latest victim, Michael Bay’s Transformers.
Freud once said that the Irish are impervious to psychoanalysis. Similarly, Transformers is impervious to criticism. What angle can a reviewer take? One can’t speak of Transformers as an adaptation, because it’s nothing like the original show. One can’t speak of it as an action movie, because there’s too much obnoxious, sitcom-y humor. One can’t speak of it as a coming-of-age movie, because there are too many explosions. Reviewing Transformers is like duelling with someone who holds his gun backwards, Elmer Fudd-style: he’ll do himself in before you fire a shot.
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| Autobot leader Optimus Prime. |
Transformers bears only passing resemblance to its source material. Most of the movie isn’t even about the Transformers, but instead focuses on various mildly interesting human characters. It takes over an hour for the Autobots to show up, and villain Megatron is present for only thirty minutes. Starscream gets two lines, Ironhide lacks his (cheesy) Texas accent, and Ratchet’s apparently from England. Don’t even ask about Prowl and Wheeljack.
Bay and company’s attitude towards the titular characters is best summed up by an embarrassing scene where the Autobots sneak around Sam’s yard, trying to hide from his parents. Likewise, the production staff seems embarrassed to be making a movie about cartoon characters. The irony is that Michael Bay feels embarrassed by something besides himself. He’s a fortysomething with long hair whose movies feature so many fast cars and faster women that they’re basically mid-life crises.
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| Shia LaBeouf with beautiful mannequin Megan Fox. |
In their own commercialized way, the Transformers were our generation’s epic. America in the 1980s wasn’t exactly in touch with its literary heritage. By the late 80s, Homer and Vergil had become dirty words on college campuses. King Arthur and Sir Roland were white-as-rice relics unworthy of an “enlightened” society. Heroes were passé anachronisms easily dismissed by Deconstructionist theories. The need for heroes, however, refused to die. Into the void stepped the cartoon characters of the 1980s—Optimus Prime and co. included. They were colorful, simple, and virtuous. They were just what young boys needed.
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| Cooler than Clint Eastwood and Bruce Lee times a gajillion. |
Worth the money? No, and it’s not worth the time, either. Two and a half hours? That’s more than enough time to practice your eighteenth-century pistol duelling, or at least turn some poor schmuck’s gun the right way.
Last Updated: Feb 5, 2012 - 22:31
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