palabras JEFF WILSER

Michael Bay likes his sunsets, his helicopters, and his shots of Megan Fox’s hipbone. Shockingly, these three elements form an entertaining movie, as Transformers, however improbably, rises above the laughing stock it seemed destined to become.

Let’s start with the sunsets. In the film’s opening act, Bay elevates “testosterone cinematography” to an art form, juxtaposing military warcraft with golden rays of sun, imbuing even the most limp, expository scenes with real texture and tension. Machine guns twinkle in the glow of dusk.

By the way, you’ll notice a complete lack of robots in the first two paragraphs. Which mirrors the film; to make this a 2-hour joy-ride, as opposed to merely a 2-hour dork-fest, Bay focuses on the story of the humans, not the Transformers themselves.

The human responsible for carrying this $200 million bucket of CGI is Shia LaBeouf, of Disney’s “Even Stevens” infamy, who plays a spunky teenager who must eventually save mankind. Of course it’s ridiculous. And credit LaBeouf for delivering a comic, wide-eyed performance that undercuts the absurdity. As LaBeouf bumbles through a classroom presentation, getting laughed at and spit on by the older bullies, he pulls off a sympathetic-teen routine that’s right up there with Toby Maguire from the original Spiderman.

Enter the helicopters. While LaBeouf is off wise-cracking with his new car (a car that eventually turns into Bumblebee, who turns in a genuinely hilarious performance), some generic military good-guys get trounced by a mysterious robot. It’s expertly paced and structured: this is Michael Bay at his finest. And in just a few quick beats, we (kind of) care about a rag-tag Air Force squadron that includes Josh Duhamel (Las Vegas), Tyrese, and Amaury Nolasco (the Hispanic guy from Prison Break, who plays the Hispanic guy from Prison Break).

As the Transformers gradually begin to reveal themselves—setting up a “search for the cube,” a mumbo-jumbo story-arc that you can largely ignore—Bay brings our attention to the third item of interest, Megan Fox’s hipbone.

Three months. Maybe six. That’s how long before Megan Fox joins the throngs of Paris and Lindsay as a sexpot socialite. She has the look. And she’s certainly credible as a lust-interest for LaBeouf. Their chemistry, and his clumsy attempts at courtship, give the first act a breezy, laugh-a-minute stretch of comedy; in fact, it’s the most entertaining hour of Michael Bay filmmaking since The Rock.

Then the first act ends. Sadly, the second begins. And the plot buckles. As the story shifts to our old friends Optimus Prime (thrillingly voiced by Peter Cullen, who also voiced the original 80s Prime—just about the only link of continuity), Megatron (Hugo Weaving), Starscream et al, the comic gusto falters, and the tedious action set-pieces take center stage. It doesn’t help that the Transformers look nothing like their 80s incarnations, so it’s not really clear who to root for, or why.

Yes, the CGI is magnificent. Yes, the explosions are cool. And yes, the image of Optimus Prime crushing a flower-bed will quicken any geek’s pulse. But 30 minutes of wanton pyrotechnics—with no cohesive story to give it focus—dooms an otherwise perfect popcorn romp.

Grade: B