Movie reviews: The Transformers (2007) – Part 52

I left the theatre with the vague feeling that this movie sucked, but I’m too busy brain-hemorrhaging to notice.

This movie is what 300 should have been: gratuitous special effects without attempting to intertwine plot or politics. The love story is literally left in the dust, resurfacing every half hour with a slow-motion shot of hands reaching toward one another through the rubble, as if the editor stumbled across the footage on the cutting room floor and thought to himself, “Oh, yeah. Now I remember.”

The film relies heavily on suspension of disbelief – we are spoon-fed a horrible voice-over narrative in the first two minutes of the film, explaining a story so cheesy I wish I had opted for nachos. The tale seems to take place sometime in the future, as the technology used both at government facilities and at home far outstrip what is available to us now.

The viewer is not allowed to ask questions like “how is a 30 foot tall robot with reconfigurable limbs supposed to fold up nicely into a luxury sedan” or “how does one not notice five of these things having a disco dance night in their back yard.” Luckily, there is little down time in which to wonder anything at all.

It’s true that the special effects are amazing, although I would have asked for less hack-and-slash editing during the action scenes, as it was neigh impossible to tell what was going on amidst the constant shower of debris. One can’t help but wonder if all this is hiding the lack of choreography between these battling behemoths. Unless you’re a childhood fan, don’t expect to ever know which side is winning.

As far as action is concerned, there is no shortage. The entire film is paced like it’s trailer – edge of your seat, with little dialogue and few interludes. Which is to the benefit of both film and viewer, as each time one of the Transformers opened their mouths I found myself both cringing and laughing in pain. The lines seem as if they have all been translated from the original Japanese cartoon, and all delivered in the same stalwart, pseudo-heroic manner.

None of the Autobots seem to develop much as characters: most of them play no part at all as far as plot is concerned. There is a “black” bot named Jazz who uses such eloquent phrases as “what’s up, little bitches” and proves that even when they’re robots, the African American will still be killed first.

Visually, aside from the special effects, there are enough lens flares to put Punch Drunk Love to shame, and many shots are too blown out to bear. In what is a trait of director Bay’s modern era films, product placement is huge. In one scene alone we are bombarded with images of Cadillac, Mountain Dew and Nokia.

On the downside, this film makes no sense. At best the plot is laughable, at worst it is predictable. On the upside, this film is good old-fashioned fun. I left with the urge to shoot something or shout “autobots, assemble!” And I, for one, did not feel as if two and a half hours had passed.