The Transformers movie is simply a high-priced product that defines mindlessness. Snap, crackle, pop-crank up the volume and cue the special effects. One of my more astute movie-going pals swears up and down that this is pure pro-war (or at least pro-soldiering) propaganda, although I tend to think it ain’t that smart or subversive, it’s simply sculpted, quite specifically, for a coupla generations of vidkids, many of whom are on the constant search for yet another visual version of mass mayhem and fun-and-games destruction. Director Michael Bay (Bad Boys, The Rock, Armageddon) is a proven popcorn master who knows exactly how to show ‘em the money on the big screen by staging a crashbang set piece or rock ‘em sock ‘em action every fifteen minutes or so. Transformers is destined to easily turn its big budget pyrotechnics into a mega profit then began a slow slide into oblivion—it registers as no more than a Hasbro cartoon devoid of the weird, archaic charm of the original animated TV series.
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