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Definition: At its heart, this is what being a critic means to me: You are allowed your opinion as long as you have actually seen/watched/listened to what you are holding forth on and you have to be able to articulate that opinion within a framework of coherence and informed observation. It helps to be able to interact with the opinions of one's peers. Much of what was directed against Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen this past summer qualified as poison-pen hate mail against Bay, Hollywood, and the Crass Marketing Machine (with lots of barbs at Megan Fox thrown in for good measure) instead of criticism and much of the retaliation against said critiques qualified as school-yard epithets and other base insults devoid of worth. Now the dust has settled and everyone has moved on and I imagine that, truth be told, a lot of the early viewers who ragged on critics for ripping apart ROTF have migrated to the new shiny toy in town and have calmed down as much as, if not more, than the critics.

That's why I included the Greenaway quote at the top: as easy as it is to vilify Bay as an anti-Christ type cinematic industry figure, he is just another artist good at making the disposable pop currency that the studios are good at shilling and worldwide masses seem quite adept and happy with buying. As a child/adolescent, my immersion into the world of action figures never included Transformers - there was an extended stint with Masters of The Universe and some enjoyment of G.I. Joe, although neither produced much in the way of massive consumption on my part - so I can't speak to a feeling of either betrayal or joy at Bay's handling of the material.

There are one or two key thoughts that went through my head concerning the reception of the film and the film itself that I hope to briefly address this week. But to spare you further suspense, and for the inevitable release of some souped-up new DVD version of ROTF, I proudly present this self-approved pull-quote: "Quite possibly the best movie to date about giant anthropomorphic robots fighting for the fate of the world." This is not a recommendation for or endorsement of ROTF, but an acknowledgment of my modest pleasure at realizing that the sequel did not end up having a "Mary Hart v. Cosmo Kramer" effect on my central nervous system, nor did it result in my feeling violated or generally malevolent towards my fellow man.

Observation 1: Screenwriters Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci had themselves one helluva summer, at (mostly) my expense.

Between the double-whammy pairing of *(Not Your Father's) Star Trek and the Transformers sequel, the pair co-wrote two of the year's highest grossers, although the reception from established critics could hardly have been different. Kirk, Spock, et. al were lovingly embraced with a 95% positive review tally while Witwicky and Optimus were shafted with under a 20% recommendation level. I was as impressed with the former as I was with the latter, which is to say, not all that much. I found Star Trek to be pleasant, humorous and exciting in spots, but so exactingly calculated to please every possible quadrant of the movie-going public that any sense of wonder and awe I might have felt kept getting shuffled to the side. Still, there were characters (and characterizations) at work in JJ Abrams' film. With ROTF, there are (stereo) types and cardboard cutouts and glassy-eyed females (more on them later). I kept thinking back to the endless annual debate involving summer spectacles that consists of critics bemoaning ridiculous unfathomable plots filled with holes and rebuttals from studios and "fans" who insist it's all about the ride and the rollercoaster and an experience, and round and round.

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