I’m just going to say it, right out loud: I want a Transformer, because I think they’re adorable. They look like Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em robots combined with those expensive Dyson vacuum cleaners with the rotating ball. The latest Transformers movie is called Transformers: Age of Extinction, but it might also be named Transformers: An International Blockbuster Because CGI Destruction Is The Universal Language. Transformers also remind me of those garden ornaments which you can find at at any tag sale, where someone has welded together discarded iron gears, rusty fireplace tongs and flattened tin cans to create something which almost looks like a stick figure tipping its hat.
The racial politics of the Transformers are insane, because some of the robots wear vaguely tribal mechanical outfits and speak with cartoony ethnic accents; they’re like three-story-high American Girl dolls who can level entire cities. As far as I can tell, the good Transformers are the Autobots and the bad guys are the Decepticons, but this installment also brings us robot dragons and robot dinosaurs, although there still don’t seem to be any female Transformerettes. Basically, the Transformers are just another attempt in the great American search to develop dolls for little boys, while calling them action figures, so that those little boys, and their Dads, can feel more masculine when buying butch accessories for their Cabbage Patch militias.
In T:AOE, Mark Wahlberg plays an eccentric midwestern inventor with a barn full of junk, as if he’s waiting for the teams from American Pickers or Pawn Stars to drop by and make him an offer for that ancient player piano. As always, the female lead in any Transformers movie is played by a centerfold-ready hottie wearing Daisy Dukes and not much else; this character’s job is to constantly get into trouble so she can scream and require rescuing. This time out, Mark’s daughter is the babe-in-residence. When we first meet her, she’s just received a letter denying her a scholarship, most likely from Hooters. I kept waiting for Mark to wade into his mountains of debris and comfort his little girl by finding her a stripper pole.
For the first hour, T:AOE is really fun, because the characters banter and the robots are still mostly disguised as sportscars and big-rig trucks. The moment when a Transformer transforms, ingeniously re-engineeering itself from toaster to titan, is always magical – it’s like when the Fairy Godmother swirls Cinderella’s rags and tatters into a shimmering ballgown. But once the robots begin scaling office buildings and tossing Chinese cruise ships around, the movie starts to seem endless, and all of the Transformers blur into indistinguishable spare parts. I asked my husband Josh if he could tell which Transformer was which, and he rolled his eyes and snorted, “Of course I can, because I’m a guy. And guys know that the yellow sportscar turns into the yellow Transformer. Duh.”
Mark Wahlberg is always fun, because he’s like a soccer Dad on a rainy day who still won’t accept defeat. Kelsey Grammer and Stanley Tucci also show up, but most of the human cast members end up yelling things like “We’re out of time!” or “We have to get to the warehouse!” There’s also a wonderful actor named T.J. Miller, who’s a regular on HBO’s Silicon Valley as well; he specializes in playing slow-moving couch creatures who imagine they’re irresistible studs. I’m not sure what T.J. is playing in T:AOE, but once he was gone, I really missed him.
In fact, I’m pretty sure that by midway through this movie, no one involved, including the director and the screenwriter, could remember what the plot was. Everyone probably would just show up for work, and someone would say, “Okay, what if the Transformers blew up a secret government lab?” and then someone else would say, “Yeah, let’s do that!” And then someone else might whisper, “But didn’t we do that yesterday?” but everyone would ignore him.
Still, I need a personal Transformer, which I would use as a stapler, a shredder and as an especially gifted Swiffer product, to dust ceiling fans. The Transformers are like gadgets which you could order from Hammacher Schlemmer or the old Sharper Image catalogue, because you’re not sure what they do, you don’t really need them, but they might be useful for sorting loose change or trimming nose hairs. And besides, it’s hard to hate any movie which includes lines like “Release the mini-drones!”, if you ask me.
