Confirmed Kino

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>Bay has an authentic sense of the gigantic; beside the playful enormity of his Transformerized universe, the ostensibly heroic dimensions of Ridley Scott’s and Christopher Nolan’s massive visions seem like petulant vanities. Yet his sense of speed works against his sense of scale and of detail. All the best moments in the movie—pure images, devoid of symbol and, for that matter, nearly empty of sense—go by too fast, are held too briefly, are developed too little. Bay’s highest inspirations are those of a virtually experimental filmmaker of pure sensation; the rush of sensation is also a temptation for experimental filmmakers who often don’t keep their own images onscreen very long (cf. Stan Brakhage). The absolute tastelessness of Bay’s images, their stultifying service to platitudes and to merchandise, doesn’t at all diminish their wildly imaginative power. If Steven Spielberg is the filmmaker without an id, Bay is a cinematic id that gets held in check by the tight superego of script and editing—a free spirit that is anchored to Earth by a pile of junk. In finding his career, he may have missed his calling.