Transformers dark of the moon Movie
Michael Bay Given the spectacular box-office grosses of "Transformers" and its sequel, "Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen" (despite being lambasted by critics and audiences), it is not all that surprising that the three-quell, "Transformers: Dark of the Moon," has made box-office history and a ton of money in the first few days of its release.
“Transformers: Dark of the Moon,” the third in this torture chamber of a movie franchise hauled in an estimated $97.5 million over the holiday weekend, making it 2011's new biggest opening-weekend record holder, which was previously set by "Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides."


Shia LaBeouf is back as Sam Witwicky, who at least is human (I think). His girlfriend, formerly played by Megan Fox, has been replaced by Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, a plush-lipped Victoria Secret model with elocutionary skills somewhat below Judi Dench’s. Even though Sam received a medal from President Obama for saving the world (c.f. previous installment), he can’t find a job in Washington, D.C. – further proof that the recession isn’t over.
Meantime the Decepticons have their sights set on taking over Earth, especially Chicago, while good-guy Autobots (and they’re all guys, by the way) are aligned with us humans to defend truth, justice, and the American way. Except that some of the good bots morph into bad bots and vice versa. The bots all come color-coded, for easy parsing of goodness and badness – Megatron, for example, is black, while Optimus Prime is red and blue – but this doesn’t help much when wars erupt and shards start flying.
The unending “Transformers” mania, courtesy of Hasbro, began with the 1980s TV show and comics and toys. There must be something primal going on to explain its longevity. World-class marketing, perhaps? Whatever the cause, the movies do not signal, as some have reasonably suggested, the death of civilization as we know it, although they surely signal the death of movies with any kind of coherence.
The only saving grace is that this time around, the script (yes, there is one, and it was concocted by Ehren Kruger) has occasional wisps of lucidity, and Bay delivers – overdelivers – on the mayhem. He’s one of those directors who is more at home with gizmos than with people, which obviously stands him in good stead in Hollywood these days.





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