CREDIT: EMPIREONLINE
The fourth of July at the Bay residence.

The day of my crucifixion has arrived; I defend probably one of the most notorious moviemakers to walk the earth, one who has been charged with supposed grievances against cinema to date. Michael Bay is the subject of a long-running joke, his obsession with superamericanization; excessive explosions, skinny blonde women, loud guns, shiny sports cars, excessive product placement, and military men with names like Johnson and Ramirez seem to dot the landscape of his body of works. Yet for all the criticism targeted towards the man, we all have to begrudgingly admit: he is very, very good at what he does.

Starting out with the simpler things is the culture within Bay's world. From the very beginnings, the action-comedy Bad Boys, Bay's movies all seem to carry a trademark machismo sense of humour, where men seem to carry out motivations driven by masculine stereotypes, and with entertaining results. Everything in the world of Bay seems to tie together with this attitude. Even the historic melodrama, Pearl Harbor, seems to carry that specific macho tone that borders on homoeroticism, despite already taking place in a male-dominated time period. The interaction between male characters in Bay's movies all lie in a slightly less crude form of chest thumping and puffing up. Yet, it's actually appealing as part of the characters, rather than being offputting and boring, mainly because it just seems to fit in that world.

It isn't a Bay movie without a visible American flag, and the brands spawned on the Land of Opportunity. Bay seems to have full rein on a special department of the U.S. Military that's specifically made to be on standby for his films, to flex off all that might. Something has to fund those giant action set pieces, which is why the (now hilariously outdated) Xbox logo is visible quite clearly... multiple times, in The Island. Yet, stemming from that entertainment-in- excess feeling, viewing this over-the-top display of blatant commercialism and patriotism bordering on parody doesn't seem to draw away from the experience.

Sure, his movies are loud, explosive and dumb, but when you see a Bay movie, you subconsciously recognize it as his special brand of loud, explosive and dumb. There are plenty of movies that require zero thought in mental participation, but Bay's actually got a visually distinctive style. You've probably seen it exemplified in Armageddon; quick cuts, fast moving camera pans and revolutions. And when there's an explosion, he knows how to make it look good. Every angle surrounding the violent combustion is captured in a way that only he could. This distinct visual flare packs all the dumbness into something quite special, something else. Despite the cardboard-flat plot and characters, all that in your face Eat-at- Joe's product placement, the junk all comes in a nice, shiny package. And you know what? The junk isn't all that bad, either.

It's schlock, it's boorish and dumb, but it's all that made with care. The Bad Boys films are my guilty pleasure, and The Rock is actually a solid action thriller, but even though I don't quite respect the rest of Bay's films, I still have to commend the fact that they look chaotically awesome, even if I lose brain cells in watching them. While the idea of Bay as a cinematic auteur has been jokingly tossed about before, I wouldn't go as far as to seriously call him that, but calling him outright untalented is out of order as well. To quote the man himself, “I make movies for teenaged boys. Oh dear, what a crime.”