Transformers: Age of Extinction
(aka Transformers 4, T4)
2014; directed by Michael Bay

Perhaps in a bit of irony, as of this writing in early July 2014, at the end of America's ultra-patriotic independence day holiday weekend, Michael Bay's fourth time bringing the Transformers franchise to the big screen is slated to become China's all-time box office champ. This is probably due in no small part to major portions of the film taking place on the Mainland and in Hong Kong. The regional pandering is helpful to creating any sort of interest with both local and international audiences, since T4 is unsurprisingly overstuffed with Bay's usual modus operandi of cinematic masturbatory bombast cranked to eleven.

Another swath of irony is present in the base elements of the Hong Kong-based finale. "Based" is the operative word, since most of the footage was actually filmed in the middle of a set mocked up in the modern day not so virtual ruins of downtown Detroit. Yes, one of the cities hurt the worst by the surge of cheap Chinese labor now stands in for the very place that has replaced it in so many other ways. But little matters like that matter not to Michael Bay, the director with the balls to cast Mark Wahlberg as a native Texan and then have him be angry towards his daughter's Irish boyfriend for not having an accent that sounds right.

For a film that is supposed to make the average seventeen year old proud to be an 'Murican, Bay's clumsy over the bra attempts at jingoism end up being lame telegraphed fare, with the US government -- as represented by the aging and balding Kelsey Grammer, even with the full power of the monolithic state behind him -- grasping at straws to find their targets, the same huge robots that thump past red light cameras that can capture your license plate at seventy-five miles per hour. So when perpetual Chinglish action figure Michael Wong shows up as Hong Kong's police chief and pleads for the Mainland government to save their bacon, it seems to be all that much more plausible, by gosh.

The one lone Chinese actor with a somewhat major role, Li Bingbing, is an awkwardly and obviously fetishized Asian ice queen, probably only thrown into the production because Zhang Ziyi has poor publicity revolving around her. Li becomes the empty "jade vase" vessel western ad executives imagine what the intended audience wants to watch, even to the point that she knows kung fu. As the movie finally ends after almost three hours, Optimus Prime rises over the ashes of Hong Kong -- where the only things left standing are Budweiser, Chevrolet, and Chinese soy milk billboards -- anointing Marky Mark as Earth's protector, one can disregard any talking from conspiracy theorists about the new world order has already taken over as a more refreshing (or at least more tolerable) change of pace.

RATING: 4