Apparently, any critic worth his or her salt is required to bitch and moan about a) any movie based on a line of toys, b) any movie directed by the sexist, homophobic, racist military fetishist Michael Bay, and c) any movie that combines "a" and "b." So, to fulfill my professional obligation, let me start with the bad news: Transformers: Dark of the Moon (2011, Michael Bay) contains plenty of the offensive humor one has come to expect from Bay (Why put gay-panic set pieces and misogynist good-guy robots in what is essentially a kids' movie?), and its plot is so messy and convoluted that it involves everything from Apollo 11 to Chernobyl to a speakeasy frequented by Russian cosmonauts to Optimus Prime's mentor, Sentinel Prime (given gravelly vocal majesty by Leonard Nimoy)--and don't even ask how all those elements tie together, because I couldn't even begin to tell you. It's strange to think that the first Transformers, with its relatively streamlined, Spielberg-influenced suburban-boy-and-his-alien-pal story, actually came out not so long ago.
Four years ago, to be exact, which is also around the time star Shia LaBeouf could last be counted on to anchor a film with dependable charm and quick-witted self-deprecation. True, it's not his fault that that the Transformers series' writers have turned his character, Sam Witwicky, from the good-natured nerd of the first film to a whiny, macho twerp, but there's still no excusing LaBeouf's needlessly manic, overamped performance here. As Sam's new girlfriend, Carly, Victoria's Secret model Rosie Huntington-Whiteley--replacing Megan Fox, arguably the most robotic figure within the first two films--at least offers livelier line readings than her predecessor, though she's still as vacant-eyed a presence as Fox. And poor Patrick Dempsey, as Carly's rich boss, is asked by certain plot developments to stretch beyond his limited "McDreamy" range but proves woefully unable to do so. That leaves the real acting to John Malkovich, who partially redeems an overly broad comic-relief character through sheer force of his weirdness, and the ever-reliable Frances McDormand, who plays a national-security bigwig with no-nonsense authority.
For the film's first 90 minutes, there are enough exciting bursts of action and compellingly odd detours (at one point, when a band of Decepticons breaks into a NASA functionary's house to terrorize his family, Bay seems to be doing his Michael Haneke impression--call it Funny Hasbro Games) to distract from the uneven acting, abhorrent politics, and pointlessly complicated plotting. And it turns out that the last hour makes wading through Bay's more unsavory, non-action-related excesses for the lengthy introductory passages feel like a necessary viewer sacrifice.
And thankfully, this is where the good news that the knee-jerk, Bay-hating critics out there don't want you to know about comes in. For its final 60 minutes, Transformers: DOTM offers giddy, non-stop, spectacular 3D action on a scale so collosal that the film--stupid first half and all--demands to be seen on the biggest screen available.
Setting up the gargantuan climax is the Decepticons' plan of using downtown Chicago as the site where their home planet will start encroaching upon Earth, which allows Bay to stage a massive Autobot-vs.-Decepticon war in the Windy City that ranks as one of the most technically ambitious and accomplished action sequences ever caught on film (in the past few years, only Avatar, Inception and the criminally underseen 13 Assassins have rivaled the scope and logistical complexity of this hour-long robot rumble).
Some detractors have accused Bay throughout his career of editing his action scenes at such a rapid clip that it's impossible to tell who's fighting who and where at any given moment, which is unfair, since Bay's cutting, while hardly slow, never collapses into visually illegible chaos the way his many imitators' action editing does. Nevertheless, Bay has now delivered a film which should silence those detractors once and for all. The demands of shooting in 3D has disciplined Bay's action staging so that many of the battles here unfold in fluid, complicated long takes.
Bay also exploits the added layers of depth within the 3D frame to stunning effect. When a group of NAVY Seals soar along the Chicago skyline in "jump suits" that allow them to fly around before parachuting downward, the visual distance between the para-troopers and the skyscrapers surrounding them creates an eye-popping effect.
Speaking of effects, there's simply no understating the contribution the visual-effects team has made to this installment. The sight of Chicago landmarks in ruins or crackling with flames is so believable as captured by Bay's team of technicians that one almost feels an urge to check in on the Midwest metropolis' current health upon exiting the theatre.
If some may still scoff at such "seeing is believing" cinematic magic on Bay's part, perhaps it's because the director can't offer anything more than blockbuster trickery. And in these mayhem-heavy summer months, one can't be faulted for wanting an easy-to-follow story and three-dimensional characters to go along with the carnage. But just because Transformers: DOTM is an empty achievement doesn't mean it's no achievement at all. You could call it the most feebly scripted groundbreaking action movie of all time just as accurately as you could call it the most overlong yet artfully crafted visual-effects reel ever released in 4,000 theatres. For now, I'll just call it one hell of a spectacle. Grade: B
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