Back for more of the same

MANILA, Philippines – We start with a question. Why are the critics lambasting Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen? Of it, esteemed Roger Ebert writes “...a horrible experience of unbearable length, briefly punctuated by three or four amusing moments.”

Another, Matt Pais, laments: “A 150-minute simulation of life in a garbage disposal.”

Yikes. What the heck is going on around here? Our beloved Autobots and Decepticons (not to mention that improbable “L” team [watch and you’ll understand] of Sam [Shia LaBeouf] and Mikaela [Megan Fox]) have gotten the ire of the movie reviewers — never mind that everyone had been expectantly waiting for the release of sequel.

Long queues greeted the first day of showing here, perhaps a bit tempered (or fueled?) by the Signal No. 2 typhoon warning foisted upon the metropolis and elsewhere — to say nothing of the flu that has schools closing down by the dozen.

We drop in on the (more or less) normal Witwicky household just as our hero Sam is packing his things up for university. The Autobots have been hard at work cooperating with a multi-nation “task force” to flush out and destroy remaining Decepticons. What gives? Why are they still here? And there’s the rub. There’s some explaining to do, and the movie needs to do it pronto.

Meanwhile, Sam is going as crazy as his pot brownie-fueled mom when a shard of the cube Allspark (remember?) suddenly appears from his jacket and he touches it. So potent is that shard that every home appliance within spitting distance suddenly (what else) transforms into toys you can buy — er, robots.

Just when Sam thinks he can settle into his college life, Bumblebee, crashes (pun intended) a party to pick up our hero per Optimus’ orders. Sam decides that helping robots save the world is boring and school is way cooler. What a dweeb! But, of course, Sam will find himself dragged into the action one way or the other. As for Mikaela, she has been happily reunited with her dad — recently released from prison — and is helping him tool around the shop. You get a feeling she has evolved into a biker chick who has the hots for the nerd (improbable, I told you).

Speaking of Sam, he has caught the eye of a Fatal Attraction-esque coed at school, and brings in more tension to our love story in the middle of some literal heavy metal.

There are tons of explosions, astigmatism-aggravating robot fights and action sequences, and butt-shaking THX bass. That mélange of metallic transformation sound effects just gives me immense pleasure. They make the animated series of my youth look like stick drawings with sound coming out of a bullhorn.

Michael “In your face” Bay is back for obvious reasons, and he delivers a visceral, kick-in-the-nuts movie that should also make Steven Spielberg and everyone else a ton of money. Just as on The Dark Knight, Bay supposedly shot three action scenes on IMAX cameras, so the image will fill the entire eight-story screen. So try to watch it there and see. Bring a bag with you should your eyeballs explode.

Speaking of returnees, the whole original cast is pretty much back, doing the same things, well, except for smarmy Sector 7 agent “Simmons” John Turturro, who is now a smarmy butcher after his fall.

Capt. Lennox (Josh Duhamel) and Epps (Tyrese Gibson) are still here for the ride, though, as one critic put it, the humans in this movie are largely ineffectual. You’d also begin to wonder why those soldiers keep using their futile weapons against the oversized bots. You think they had learned their lesson from the first movie. At least the antagonistic and irritating government official who later would find himself dropped into the desert got it right when he asked (no, demanded) Optimus Prime to reveal secrets of the Transformer weapons. “Get a sweet deal with Hasbro, first,” said Optimus.

Just kidding.

But, you see, Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen is just about that — the Transformers (and toy and US vehicle sales, to be honest). It isn’t titled Sam and Mikaela or even Sam Goes to College or even Mom’s First Brownie.

At least I half knew what to expect when I queued up to pay for my ticket that Joyce reserved for me on-line. I expected to see a lot of, to quote the bard the Incredible Hulk, things getting “smashed.”

So sue me, Mr. Ebert and company. Ee-eh-er-uh-oh. That’s the sound of my clenched fists transforming into two thumbs up.