That, three films in, nobody seems to have figured out the basic concept behind the Transformers franchise must really piss Michael Bay off — and it shows in every frame of the latest installment Transformers: Dark of the Moon. This isn’t a film you watch; it’s an experience that happens to you, like being in a car wreck, only instead of deploying airbags, these cars talk and are from outer space. It is an all-out assault on Mid-Western America in both literal (Chicago gets creamed) and figurative terms, but it’s also a relentless assault on the audience.
Watching Transformers: Dark of the Moon will activate your latent Cro-Magnon lizard brain and liquefy it into motor oil. It’s the kind of the thing they force detainees at Guantanamo to watch as part of their interrogation techniques. Like Moloch slouching towards Bethlehem, it’s a movie that presages the end of days, if not for human kind, then at the very least for cinema. And yes, it’s a fucking masterpiece. [click to continue…]
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