Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen

As icy blondes were to Alfred Hitchcock, giant armoured robots are to Michael Bay: they inspire him, he needs them. After a shaky period, circa 2005’s The Island, when it appeared that the action film director was accosting maturity, the back-to-back Transformers films have taken Bay to a whole new realm of adolescent ludicrousness. This is mayhem on a rarefied level – gorged on adrenalin and technically crafted to an astounding degree.

The problem is that Bay is not suited to sequels. Virtually nothing was held back from 2007’s Transformers, a wildly successful update of the Hasbro toy line and 1980s cartoon, so his only response – albeit his natural one – is to amp up everything he’s already done. Bay is a throwback to the pre-Global Financial Crisis era, when consumer culture was rampant and everything had to be super-sized. Restraint does not come naturally.

So without any sense of discovery to enjoy, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen simply charges forward, with the virtuous Autobots now covertly working with the U.S. military to hunt down the remaining Decepticons on Earth as part of the civil war that has long divided the two robot armies from planet Cybertron. Of course the Autobots have as much comprehension of covert as Bay does: within minutes large parts of Shanghai have been blown to pieces by some steam shovel on steroids that starts junking freeways.

It requires Autobots leader, Optimus Prime, to take down the evil Decepticon. “Pull over,” he quips, proving that the Autobots have been on Earth long enough to study the collected works of Arnold Schwarzenegger. Stern as they may appear, the Autobots are positively lippy this time – a pair of smaller vehicles unfortunately sound like they’re channeling Amos ‘n’ Andy.

Humour is not Bay’s strong point – the film’s human centre-piece, the plucky Shia LaBeouf’s Sam Witwicky, can’t even get away to college without his mother accidentally getting high and momentarily running wild – but it’s liberally daubed on the first act, which dutifully sets the scene for why the Decepticons are returning to Earth in force.

To be honest, the intricacies of the plot defy simple description. There are various mystical keys, shards of ancient artifacts and rather conspicuous pyramids involved, with Decepticons’ leader Megatron (voiced once more by Hugo Weaving) now revealed to be the servant of The Fallen, a Decepticon lord with whom he shares a Darth Vader and Emperor-like rapport. Apparently even malevolent robot armies need good middle management.

Of course Bay, and the majority of his audience, just want to see those gleaming, spectacular creations in action. Enter Megan Fox, whose lips have transformed into Beatrice Dalle’s. She’s soon followed by legions of robots, none of whom take the time to introduce themselves before commencing carnage. Bay lenses Fox and the robots with equal loving care and they both, in turn, offer performances of comparable quality.

If nothing else the digital effects are beyond compelling in Revenge of the Fallen. The Autobots and Decepticons have a physical heft to them, and when they occasionally walk, instead of running, rolling and flying, you notice each sturdy step raising dust. This is CGI of such fine workmanship that you forget that it was ever cranked up on a very large hard drive.

Bay, to his, credit, does a decent job of showcasing Industrial Light & Magic’s work. His excessive visual style has been toned down by the post-production needs of the footage. The frenetic cutting and aggressive pans of Bad Boys and the cloying slow-motion of Pearl Harbour have been toned down. Bay even offers the occasional master shot to establish spatial boundaries as his subjects unleash havoc. The unrestrained machismo of his earlier work is also moderated: the whole point of The Rock was to have Sean Connery make a man out of Nicholas Cage; Sam Witwicky wouldn’t have lasted five minutes back then.

Yet for all the massed run and gun battles that occupy the climactic final hour, this sequel is at its best when the scale is smaller. As we’ve learned with the Terminator films, one homicidal robot is a more intriguing than a thousand. The movie’s most arresting scene is of a single, diminutive Decepticon pursuing Sam and various cohorts through a university campus; her design a homage to the female robot from Fritz Lang’s Metropolis, her regal menace from the nightmares of popular culture.

So if there must be a third Transformers picture (and it’s already penciled in for July 2012), let’s hope that Michael Bay finally realises that smaller can be better. Recycling a concept from the first feature, an early scene has a powerful energy source unexpectedly turning the appliances in the Witwicky kitchen into miniature Decepticons – a toaster upgrades to feature a rocket launcher and the juicer acquires a cannon. Put those devilish mod cons in a kitchen with Gordon Ramsey and Nigella Lawson and cook something wholly new up.