Michael Bay doesn’t make movies. If there was a Department of Propaganda in the US, he’d be the nation’s number one visual jingoist. His imagery is all sun-dappled backdrops, waving fields of grain, and stark red, white, and blues against unholy inhuman mayhem.
His heroes are goofy and wholesome, his villains similarly styled but teeming with untold evil. He paints his single digit IQ plotlines in strokes so broad that newborn babies seem to understand them while simultaneously pushing his F/X wizards to the brink of individual madness with his desire for a photorealistic apocalypse.