Every two years or so for the past-decade-and-a-half a movie appeared, like clockwork, right in the middle of summer. This movie promises to be the spectacle to end all spectacles and outdo every other film released that year. It comes populated by the young and the beautiful, the best and the brightest of the stars of tomorrow and promises more thrills, more laughs, more explosions and more sex appeal than anybody knows what to do with. In every way the movie is designed with but one purpose in mind: to separate the movie-going public from their hard-earned dollars, and if it seems that way it’s because that’s exactly what it’s designed to do. And more often than not it succeeds, no matter how juvenile or underwhelming the results may be.
You’re probably asking yourself just who the genius is behind these movies. Who’s the man that figured out how to get us to hand over our money time and again like a bunch of little lemmings? Who is the auteur of excess that entrances us year after year? Is it Spielberg? George Lucas? Robert Zemeckis? Maybe the great Cecil B. DeMille, risen from the grave? Of course not. Don’t be silly.
No, it’s Michael Bay.