Transformers: Dark of the Moon – A Review of the most Grating Protagonist in Recent History
I’ll be upfront and say that I did not hate Transformers: Dark of the Moon (2011). Foremost, hate is a strong word, and I only reserve it for anything that truly deserves that kind of disdain. Michael Bay’s newest blockbuster is far from good, but it certainly doesn’t deserve that hate label that many have left the theater dropping like seagulls on potato chips. No, I decided to watch Transformers: Dark of the Moon because quite honestly, I wanted to watch something mindless and stupid, with the possibility of the writing some thoughts on it afterward; my general philosophy about being a cinephile is that if you’re going to love movies, you’re going to have to see bad ones too so the distinction becomes rather ingrained in your skull. So after watching it I decided that yes, Transformers: Dark of the Moon is a bad movie but no, it’s not as bad as its predecessor (which is sort of a low bar I know) and lastly, if there was one thing I disliked most about this movie, it was main protagonist, Sam Witwicky.
What is sort of beyond my comprehension is how a protagonist I found rather enduring in the first movie has suddenly degenerated into one of the most annoying characters on screen in this recent installment. Transformers (2007), at its heart, was really the classic boy-and-his-amazing-friend fable: we’ve seen it with E.T. and The Iron Giant, and the first Transformers was no different – save, of course, for the typical Michael Bay-ism action that took over the last 10 minutes. Then came Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen (2009) which really, truly, was a bad movie: I believe it is one of the few films that has the honor of hacking away 2.5 hours of my life, precious time that will never be recovered. There was nothing memorable about it, nothing save the rather amazing fact that Megan Fox’s hair and make-up always looked perfect despite the numerous explosions. Yet, regardless of the second movie’s innumerable faults, I never found myself wincing in pain whenever a particular character took center screen.
Such is the unfortunate burden which plagues my memory of Transformers: Dark of the Moon. Yes there were gratuitous explosions, military glorification, an uncannily attractive woman, confusing plot developments, horrendous caricatures of character archetypes (alliteration!), yet somehow – somehow, none of that really bothered me. I guess Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, Sucker Punch and Battle: L.A. must have somehow increased my threshold for mindlessness on screen; that, or I’ve found an amazing coping mechanism when dealing with the product of people who never evolved past puberty. Whatever the reason was (and I suspect there were many) none of the typical Michael Bay-ism made me feel like I was developing a hernia in my brain.
That honor goes to the character of Shia LaBeouf, Sam, who managed to become one of the most unpleasant onscreen personas I have ever witnessed in recent history. My main question is why, why would anyone even find him remotely likable, or even competent for the matter? Here is a character written to be appealing for his witty, fast-talking antics, so witty that regardless of how arrogant and idiotic he may be the audience is still willing to forgive him whenever he drops comedic gold, attune to a spectator giggling with glee when a show monkey does a funny dance after slinging nothing but fecal matter for five minutes. In Sam’s case, it feels more like he’s slinging nothing but fecal matter during the first act so by the time the second act rolls in, I was actually rather grateful that I would see and hear much less of him.
Sam was enduring in the first Transformers, forgettable in the second, and beyond irritating in the third installment. Many times I found repeating the same why question over and over again; if anything the least realistic part in Transformers 3 is why any character would want to stick around Sam for more than five minutes before willingly opting for the emancipation of their ear tubes. He is unbearably overconfident that Narcissus would tell him to tone it down; obnoxious doesn’t even suffice in describing how grating I found his antics that desperately attempted to overcompensate for his insecurities. Any competent, recent college graduate knows to never expect a silver spoon being shoved down your throat because reality isn’t particular kind to over-entitled brats. No, not even if you saved the world twice.
What I witnessed was a supporting cast – human and robot – that was trying their best to make it seem that Sam was important, and that he was someone that they actually (or possibly) liked for whatever obscure reason. And that’s just it: Sam Witwicky is only remotely interesting when he’s being overshadowed by gargantuan mechas engaging in incomprehensible combat. What Transformers 3 painfully demonstrates is that once Sam discovered robots existed, he decided that running around with the military and screaming out in titillating excitement was more important than developing proper interpersonal skills that didn’t resemble a child being force-fed Ritalin.
I must have been in a particularly masochistic mood when watching the first half of Transformers 3; that, or the few refreshing moments of competent acting from Frances McDormand must have injected whatever life force back into the soulless, limping act as it bellowed “See?! We’re funny and smart, we really are, honest!” The first act was so utterly grating and unbearable that once the typical Michael Bay-ism began with the second act, it actually felt like a breeze of fresh air. 
The writers of Transformers 3 demonstrate the same problem that plagued the subsequent Pirates of the Caribbean movies revolving around Captain Jack Sparrow, except to a much worse extent. They took a small component of Sam’s 1920s-esque fast talk in the first installment – something that I considered unexpectedly brilliant, much in the same vein that Jack Sparrow was the curve ball everyone loved – then over-amplified it to the point of being terribly over-saturated: it’s like the exploited one-trick pony put on repeat on a infinite loop, except in this case I can’t smash the record and be done with it. Once a rather enduring character, Sam has unfortunately become the epitome of my annoyance with poorly written protagonists. It is still beyond me why none of the robots simply decided to stomp on him so no one would have to listen to his incessant complaints about why he wasn’t qualified to be part of covert operations (hint number one: the only job you’re qualified for on paper is being the office paperboy. Seriously, what were you doing at Yale Princeton?)
I went into Transformers 3 prepared for what is typical of Michael Bay: sexual exploitation, tasteless product placement and destructive, unintelligible fighting that’s carefully edited down to a PG-13 rating. I left Transformers 3 with a gnawing desire to find every movie reel and to manually excise the first half of film from ever existing. You know a movie is in trouble when a mute robot displays more emotional range and humanity than its main protagonist.
If there is a lesson to be learned from Transformers 3, it is one specifically for young woman: ladies, if you’re ever hit on by anyone that displays the same kind of arrogant callousness and unrelenting obnoxiousness Sam does throughout this film, turn the opposite direction, sprint as fast as you can, and never look back. You’ll regret the moment if you ever engage just to be polite.
Recommended Reading
Transformers (2007) – Review by Roger Ebert (note here that I share the same enthusiasm he shared for the first movie, and how quickly the subsequent movies went in to try and exploit what made the first one rather enjoyable).
The Fall of Revengers – Roger Ebert’s blog
