Spark of Hope: A Love/Hate Review of the Transformers Saga

Here's the thing about Michael Bay's "Transformers" films. From a pure film-making standpoint, they're terrible. Absolutely terrible. I have no allusions of these films being anything else. They are, after all, based on a line of toys, and thus exist only as marketing tools. And they're very, very good at that. So good, in fact, that when I first saw these films, I too bought into the hype. I was too old to rush out and buy the toys, yes, but I felt like a kid in spirit when I watched them.

So reviewing these films, especially the latest, "Age of Extinction", is actually harder than it might seem. Not too hard, mind you. Like I said, I can easily pick apart any of these films based on narrative, character development, etc. etc. But there's something about seeing giant robots beat the living piss out of each other that's just fun to watch. Regardless of the paper thin characters, heavy handed racism, and not-even-trying-to-be-subtle product placement. In a way, these films are like cinematic junk food: they satisfy a basic instinct, but in the long run don't offer any sustenance.

I wanted to get this out of the way because it's only by going in knowing this can one actually analyze these films. On a base level, each of these films, (yes, even "Fallen") satisfy a basic urge. The urge for sex, violence, and wanton destruction. We all have this urge, don't deny it. And despite what we say, we love seeing it onscreen. But there's a difference between indulging this urge for a little while and feeding it to the point where it's just too much. Ultimately, that's what these films do. They satisfy this urge well, but perhaps TOO well. There was a time when my adolescent brain didn't realize "enough was enough" regarding these films. I've come to a realization after seeing "Extinction", but for that to have any weight, my thoughts on the other films must be expressed.

Let's start at the beginning. As a '90s kid, my first exposure to the Transformers franchise was the CGI "Beast Wars" cartoon. Nostalgic, to be sure, but it never really hooked me personally. I had a few Transformers lying around the house in my youth, but never much took to the concept. I just didn't see how alien robots turning into cars was all that believable, or even that appealing. When the first film was announced, I waited until it hit DVD to check it out.

My initial reaction? Why the hell didn't I see this in theaters. The first "Transformers" film floored me. I already knew who Optimus and Megatron were, and the basic Autobot/Decepticon war, but what the film did so well for me was make it actually seem plausible. The All-Spark explained the "transforming alien robot" thing really well. The robots were imposing and looked unbelievably cool. The transformations were the best part, and simply a marvel of special effects.

My all time favorite moment, however, had to be the arrival of the Autobots. The effects, the score, the build-up, everything was just so cinematic I couldn't help but get caught up in it. And despite me not originally favoring the franchise, I'd be hard pressed to say I didn't geek out after seeing a living '80s pop culture icon like Optimus Prime come to life on the big screen.

The point of all this is, there was a magic to the first film. While directed by Michael Bay, the true driving force behind the original was Steven Spielberg, and it shows here. The whole "boy and his car" plot that ties the film together has a very Spielbergian element to it, specifically the silent bond between Sam and Bumblebee. While most G1 fans hated how the robots seemed like extras in their own movie, I actually think the humans justified their existence here by grounding the plot. The film was more about the humans discovering the Transformers and reacting accordingly, instead of the bots themselves.

But, enough of my gushing. These were my thoughts upon seeing the film for the first time. Repeat viewings made me see the flaws, which are really just par for the course for Mr. Bay. But while his "Bayisms" as I like to call them (jingoistic patriotism, discriminatory shots of women, underdeveloped characters, glaring plot holes, racist stereotypes, vulgar humor) are all present, the touch of Spielberg makes everything seem more down-to-earth. It has excess, to be sure, but just the right amount.

To this day I feel like the film is a perfect fusion of Bay and Spielberg's styles. It was needed, frankly, to sell such an inherently stupid concept to non-fans like me. And I'm not gonna lie, it worked. That sense of awe at seeing these giant robots for the first time outweighs any flaws this film has to me. It's not perfect, not by a long shot. But as far as solid popcorn entertainment goes, the first "Transformers" had it all.

So after witnessing magic in that first "Transformers" picture, I did what I do with every fandom I'm introduced to through a film version. That being research it heavily. A few wiki searches later, and the terms "G1", "Unicron", "Vector Sigma", "Soundwave", "The Matrix of Leadership", and "Dinobots" became all too familiar to me. I knew the sequel was coming soon, and I wanted to be ready. Hype went through the roof, and by the time "Revenge of the Fallen" was released, I couldn't contain my excitement.

Two and a half hours later, and I came out pretty satisfied at seeing Optimus fusing with a jetpack to take out a millennium year old Transformer. Except there was something off about this new film. Maybe it was how quickly Optimus defeated the Fallen. Or the lack of common sense in the plot. Or the pair of racist twin Autobots. Or the wrecking ball testicles they put on Devastator, one of the greatest Decepticons of the G1 fandom. Or, you know, basically everything about the film. It dawned on me pretty quickly that despite a few decent action scenes (Prime vs. three 'Cons in the forest, anyone?) the film was a colossal dud.

I realized it back then and I know it still today: "Revenge of the Fallen" is not only the worst "Transformers" film, but one of the worst blockbuster films of all time. I do not say this lightly. All of the Bayisms in the first film were multiplied exponentially here, with more vulgar humor, more racism, more Megan Fox oogling, more coming-of-age stereotypes passing off as character growth. The film was just WAY too excessive. I could overlook the flaws in the first film because I was generally wowed by the sight of giant robots. But now that the novelty's worn off, the Bayisms are really apparent here. Bay's influence definitely overtook Spielberg's here, and it shows. The movie speaks for itself. There's nothing else I can say that a million fans haven't already said. It's just a terrible movie.

Such a let down made me pretty cynical by the time the third film was announced. Like most people, I thought the series had peaked with the original, and now that we're all used to seeing giant robots, there's nowhere left for the franchise to go. But as I said before, these films satisfied a basic urge that was hard to find anywhere else. Like an addict, I went crawling back. Part of it was thinking it would end the series, for better or worse. Another part was half-hoping they'd actually improve on "Fallen" and restore the series' integrity. I was right on both accounts. Or at least half-right.

The third film was a huge improvement on "Fallen", but that's really not saying much. The vulgar humor didn't vanish, it just took place entirely in the first half, while the second half was a gritty, no holds barred action sequence that leveled Chicago. I actually got to visit the Chicago shooting, and it was just as chaotic as you might expect. If nothing else, there was a sense of satisfaction at seeing the film and knowing I was that close to everything. It did help, though, that the second half made up for all the Bayisms in the first half, delivering a widely entertaining action flick that also served as a decent series finale.

In many ways, the movie's still a piss poor example of proper narrative film-making. It was the first of the three films where I was actively analyzing it while watching, mostly due to my left over cynicism from the second film. But the final hour of action was so intense, I couldn't help but be won over by it. I guess I just wanted to feel the magic of the original film again, that I let myself be immersed in the sheer chaos of it all. The story really didn't improve, and Shia Labeouf went from likable to somewhat irritating to straight up annoying. But Megan Fox's replacement was a small improvement, as was Leonard Nimoy as the surprise villain. Ultimately, "Dark of the Moon" is a mixed bag of a film, equally horrendous and entertaining. But despite one hell of a finale that seemed to close everything off, it still can't beat the simple joy of the original.

And now, at last, we arrive at "Age of Extinction". A film I thought shouldn't exist when announced, but tempted me with its Mark Walberg and its Dinobots. Tiny elements to be sure, but enough to goad me back into theaters, hoping to see something that'd truly wow me four movies in. After "Dark of the Moon" killed off every major Decepticon, I figured there was nowhere left to go. I went to see this film out of curiosity. Exactly where do you go from here? But unlike, say, "How to Train Your Dragon 2" or "22 Jump Street", this film doesn't care for organically following its predecessors. Oh yes, it references the Chicago battle, and all the events come out of that, but it expects us to buy the government hunting Autobots after allying with them for three movies.

The new human cast does fine, especially the government baddies themselves. Walberg is definitely an improvement over Labeouf in terms of acting. But his arc with daughter Tessa and her race car driver boyfriend Shane just don't connect, no matter how hard Bay tries to make us think otherwise. It's somewhat made up for with more focus on the 'Bots themselves, especially Optimus's new found cynicism of humanity. It's funny, since that cynicism's exactly how I feel about this franchise now.

There's actually a meta-subtext running through the film about the necessity of the Transformers on Earth, and Optimus deciding whether to continue the good fight. That could have made for a riveting film, if Bay had actually followed through on such themes. New developments like alien bounty hunter Lockdown and talk of a "Creator" race are swept aside for another "Decepticons want ancient device to destroy humanity" plot. What's the point of setting up a new premise in the first half if you're just going to revert to formula in the second?

By then, the plot moves to Hong Kong for an action scene that's way too long, adding an extra 45 minutes to the run time when it clearly wasn't needed. The promise of Dinobots kept me going, but by the time they do show up, they only clutter an already busy finale, and ultimately contribute nothing to the climax. Instead, they only serve as a reminder of how Bay loves to indulge himself. Each "Transformers" film outdoes the last, and that continues here. Some of his signature Bayisms were toned down (there's less vulgar humor, for one) but his penchant for good 'splosions has only intensified. The film is not insulting like "Fallen", but the action isn't as impressive as "Moon", nor as awe-inspiring as the original.

It's not that the action in itself is bad, it's just that there's way too much of it. As I've said before, there's a difference between satisfying a basic urge and over-indulging in it. More than any other "Transformers" film, "Extinction" revels in that excess. I was getting sick of the action half-way through, and came out at the end feeling it was way too much. If these films are indeed like cinematic junk food, then this one leaves you overstuffed. It's gotten to the point where I'm not even sure Bay can top this. And if he can, I'm not sure I want to see it, given how much he's topped himself here. I'm too desensitized to these giant robots that I was once in awe of. The films have gotten too formulaic, too big, and too busy to function as pure popcorn flicks anymore. I wanted to hope for the magic to return. But this film made me see there's nothing more here than a giant toy commercial. It's well made in that light, but a commercial it remains. The toys have to be put away at some point.

The Case For Directorial Vision

Spielberg. Scorsese. Coppola. Curaon. Nolan. These are but a few of what Hollywood calls "auteur" directors. Men who not just direct their films, but oversee the writing, production, and generally every other aspect of a film's creation. Often their name is all that's needed to get a project green-lighted, regardless of whether it's a blockbuster, art house film, or even *gasp* an original, non-sequel project. These directors, and countless others, have very firm visions in mind when they set out to make a movie. But just because a director has a vision, doesn't necessarily make it good.

"Blasphemy!", some would say. "A director with a firm vision is the key to a film's success!" And normally, I'd agree. Most films live or die by the strength of the director, who should always know what they want out of a film. But then there are those directors who have a little too much vision. And by vision, I mean power. A director with too much power can completely derail a film, if they're not willing to tone down their unique directorial traits and compromise with others. In times like these, as much as I hate to say it, executive power and vision can actually be a boon to a fledgling film. So here we are in a unique situation, where directorial and executive vision are grappling for control.

Why am I ranting about this, especially now? Well, several reasons. There's the matter of the almost month-long panic over Edgar Wright leaving Marvel's "Ant-Man" film, and the scramble for a replacement director. There's today's release of "Transformers: Age of Extinction", directed by a man who's one of the embodiments of too much directorial power. And we can't forget the new "Star Wars" films, with various talented directors hired to helm them. The point is, a director with a strong vision more often than not benefits a film, but it can just as easily destroy it. I'm here to dissect the case for and against directorial vision, to ultimately decide if directors or studios should hold majority power.

Here are the facts about strong directors: they know what they're doing. Either a director pitches a project to a studio and the studio green-lights it for the director alone, or the studio starts the project and hires the director in good confidence. Either way, it shows a belief in the director's vision. The best examples I can give are comparing Steven Spielberg to Joss Whedon. Spielberg is one of the best, if not THE best, directors in Hollywood. He was back in the '70s, and he still is now. Maybe he's not the director that he was when he made "Jaws", "Raiders", or "Jurassic Park", but Spielberg still knows how to craft a well-made film. Spielberg has enough clout in Hollywood to choose his own projects, becoming a true "auteur" director. He's the one who goes to studios; the studios don't approach him.

Joss Whedon, on the other hand, had an enormous cult following pre-"Avengers" but not a lot of experience directing feature length films. Writing them, perhaps, but not directing. His one credit, "Serenity", while solid, didn't make the numbers Universal was expecting. Warner Brothers put him in charge of their "Wonder Woman" project, but it subsequently fell through. But when Disney/Marvel was trying to get "The Avengers" off the ground, they knew Whedon was the man for the job. Not just for the cult following and goodwill from fans, but for his talent at directing ensembles and encyclopedic knowledge of comic books.

Their faith was, of course, well-rewarded, to the tune of over a billion dollars. The main difference between Spielberg and pre-"Avengers" Whedon, though, is that Spielberg could choose his projects, whereas Whedon was a hired gun. But even though Whedon was hired on, he got the gig because Disney/Marvel had faith in his ability to direct, and knew his strong vision would carry their riskiest project to success. No matter if a director can choose his projects or is simply hired to execute a studio-mandated film, a strong vision goes a long way.

There's loads of other directors that can prove this point. Chris Nolan was hired by WB to reboot Batman. A wildly successful trilogy later, and now Nolan is one of the most powerful directors in the business. "Inception", "The Prestige", and "Memento" are all testaments to his strong, singular vision, to say nothing of the hype behind his upcoming film "Interstellar", purely because he's directing it. From hired gun to auteur, this is the true power of directorial vision gone right.

And then there's Martin Scorsese ("Raging Bull," "Taxi Driver," "Goodfellas"). Francis Ford Coppola ("Apocalypse Now," "The Godfather Trilogy"). Woody Allen ("Annie Hall," too many others to list). Akira Kurosawa ("Seven Samurai"). Alfonso Cuaron ("Children of Men," "Gravity"). Stanley Kubrick ("2001," "The Shining," "A Clockwork Orange"). History has shown the power of those who know what they want from their films. Simply put, great cinema is made by great directors. Those who have a clear vision for a film will always be successful. End of story.

Except when it's not. The directors I've listed above, hired or auteur, recognize the power they're given and know how to use it properly. There are some directors out there, either complete hacks or fallen auteurs, who abuse their power and churn out inferior films. Their egos tell them they can do no wrong, so they include everything they want to see at the expense of making a good, streamlined movie. Argument, thy name is Bay. Michael Bay needs no introduction, being the man with the best 'splosions in Hollywood. Bay does make entertaining films, I'll give him that. Films that know exactly what they are, and don't try to be Oscar-worthy.

But when you're handed a franchise based on toys, and make each one subsequently longer to the point where your fourth film has a near-three hour run time, something's wrong. It's less about Bay doing his brand of movie and more him indulging in everything he likes, to the point where it's unbearable. With "Bad Boys", "The Rock", "Pain and Gain", and even "Transformers 1", he had restraint. With the "Transformers" sequels, it's anything but.

Of course Bay's not the only case where directorial power went bad. Take Zach Snyder and Peter Jackson, for example. Zach Snyder may have proven his directing chops with "300" and "Watchmen", but "Sucker Punch" proved that if you put him in charge of visuals AND story, the results aren't pretty. "Man of Steel" was better off, but if cities are blowing up and no one's batting an eye, something's wrong.

Peter Jackson, meanwhile, is an award-winning director, and completely deserves it. He did manage the Herculean task of adapting "Lord of the Rings" to film. And for this, I and many other fans will be eternally grateful. But when your "King Kong" remake is so long and awkwardly paced that the iconic biplane scene is actually boring, then restraint is needed. Same applies when adapting "The Hobbit", a 300 page book, into a nine hour trilogy. A two-parter I understand, but this I do not. Jackson's films are all visually arresting and packed with real emotion, yes, but he really needs to learn the power of editing.

George Lucas, on the other hand, needs to learn a little more than that. Once a true auteur for making "American Graffiti" and the "Star Wars" films, he's since fallen into ruin over creative control of his properties. Even back in the good old days, Lucas struggled to exert his vision on others. He hated how "Episode V" turned out, even though its director Irvin Kirshner made it the best of the Saga. His attempts at control led to Ewoks in Episode VI, all before the complete insanity of the Special Editions and the prequels. Lucas became so obsessed with his vision for the Saga that he alienated his fanbase. He never listened to anyone, rationalizing that midichlorians and Jar Jar Binks were good ideas. More than any other director, Lucas embodies what it means to let directorial power go to your head.

So we've seen now that even once-good directors can get power hungry and turn out crappy films. In these cases, maybe it's better if studios have more control after all. Studios with specific visions for films should reign in misbehaving directors, to ensure they don't indulge in excess. Sounds like a decent plan, given studios are the money behind these films and should know what they want to invest in. Except that, more often than not, total studio control is the worse possible thing to happen to a movie. Don't believe me? Look at every superhero film that's been made since the late '70s.

Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, and the X-Men know all too well what happens when a strong director is swept under the rug by the studio. Compare Richard Donner's first two Superman pics to every other sequel and reboot. Look at what the empowered Tim Burton and Chris Nolan did with Batman, as opposed to the studio-controlled Joel Schumacher. See how a studio mandate made "Spider-Man 3" what it was, to say nothing of the entirely corporate reboot series. Notice what happens to any X-Men film that doesn't have the name Bryan Singer attached, as director or producer.

Those problems, however, are small potatoes to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. If any franchise embodies the conflict between directorial and executive vision, it's this. Marvel CEO Kevin Fiege is highly publicized as the man behind the MCU. Everything is his vision, and it's up to him to ensure every film and show is integrated into the wider universe. Continuity this series may have, but as individual films, they're largely hit or miss. The best ones ("Iron Man 1 and 3", "Cap 1 and 2", "The Avengers") succeeded more due to a strong directorial vision than any reliance on a shared universe. The more mediocre entries ("Thor 1 and 2", "Iron Man 2", "Hulk","SHIELD") suffered for trying to service the wider universe, at the expense of standalone stories. Their directors bowed to the studios' whims, and it showed.

"Guardians" and "Ultron" look to be strong MCU entries, and if they are, it'll be due to Joss Whedon and James Gunn's strong visions. "Doctor Strange" director Scott Derrickson, known for his horror work, could also knock his Marvel project out of the park, should Marvel listen to him. The biggest threat now is "Ant-Man", which gets to the heart of this whole conflict. The entire reason the film is being made was "Shaun of the Dead" director Edgar Wright's unique vision for the story. He spent years perfecting it, and was finally ready to make it happen. But when Marvel ordered a re-write that didn't mesh with the tone Wright wanted, he quit. Now "Yes Man" director Peyton Reed has replaced him, hired to execute another man's passion project. It could be salvaged, true, but based on the track record of both other MCU projects and superhero films in general, it doesn't bode well.

So after all that, clearly studios can't be trusted with complete control either. Yet unless the director is a true auteur, most of them can't be trusted with absolute power. Who, then, should have the most authority? In all honesty, no one should, at least not fully. Every film is a collaborative effort, the result of directors, producers, writers, actors, stuntmen, effects people, etc. etc. No one person is completely responsible for the success or failure of a film. More often than not though, the director or the studio has the reigns. A strong director, whether auteur or hired gun, can succeed as long as they have a set vision. But even then, they need to collaborate with others, since too much ego can seriously ruin a film.

But collaboration doesn't mean "give in to studio demands." It means COMPROMISE. A balance needs to be struck between studio and director, regardless of who has more power and influence. Disney may be the reason new "Star Wars" films are getting made, but J.J. "Star Trek" Abrams, Gareth "Godzilla" Edwards, Rian "Looper" Johnson, and Josh "Chronicle" Trank have unique enough visions to carry these films forward. Their vision will hold power, but their collaboration with Disney/Lucasfilm will really bring the films to life. Lucas once knew, whether as director or producer, that working with others was the key to success. He may have lost his way with the prequels, but the Disney merger is proof that he's regained his senses. Other studios and directors must learn this too, so their films can benefit from successful collaborations. Good directorial vision will always benefit a film, but a good director, even an auteur, is one who knows to listen. Case closed.

How to Make A Sequel: A Dragon and Jump Street Double Review

Oh, sequels. The savior and bane of the Hollywood engine. I don't need to go into any sort of detail about how sequels, remakes, reboots, and franchises are spelling the doom of creative cinema. I've written far too much on it already, to say nothing of other film critics and, indeed, 90 percent of the Internet. This summer, as with any other blockbuster season, sequels reign supreme. One could argue the season actually started a month early this year, with "Captain America: The Winter Soldier" launching in April. By the time May swung around, we had not only Spider-Man and X-Men sequels, but re-imaginings of Godzilla and Sleeping Beauty as well. Now nearing the end of the month of June, we find ourselves bombarded by even more sequels, including the upcoming "Transformers: Age of Extinction".

I'll be writing a lot on Michael Bay's seven year love affair with giant robots soon, but for the purposes of this rant, all you really need to know is how hated Bay's Transformers sequels are. They are prime examples of not only Bay's gigantic ego, but Hollywood's as well. Sequels are often excess personified, upping the stakes and scale of their predecessors in hopes of out-grossing them. There was a time when sequels weren't really necessary, and just blatant cash-ins. Then the era of the franchise arrived, where blockbuster films came tailor made as the first in an ongoing series. Sequels became "necessary", but that didn't mean they were still any good. That was, until filmmakers wised up and realized sequels should build on the foundations of the original. Instead of cashing in, they should grow organically from what came before, and move the characters and stories into new directions.

It sounds like a no-brainer, but we as audience members know all too well the disappointment of a bad sequel. Thank the cinema gods, then, that two amazing sequels, "How to Train Your Dragon 2" and "22 Jump Street", came out in the same week. Not only are these amazing films in their own right, but they are textbook examples of how to make brilliant follow-ups to already entertaining works. And the best part is, both films display a different class of sequel, that nonetheless knows what truly made the first film so appealing. Both films wisely focused on that, instead of simply taking everything in the last film (positive AND negative) and adding more of it.

I expressed very clearly in my "Animation Domination" rant that I wished to cover more animated films. My ultimate reason for this was that most animated films can move us in ways the best live action films can't. Maybe it's because we expect these to be mindless kids' films, which then surprise us with engaging characters, mature situations, and a significant amount of depth. Maybe it's because animation is free to realize any world it wants, instead of being limited by budgetary constraints. It could very well be a combination of both, or for a variety of other reasons. The point is that Dreamworks' "How to Train Your Dragon" franchise is so damn good at doing all of this that it's almost scary. I had no expectations for the first film, and after seeing it in theaters on impulse, I was surprised to find the best Dreamworks film since the first two Shrek movies (in may ways surpassing them).

With such a strong first effort, interest in the sequel was only natural. I secretly hoped the second film could surpass the first, but was always aware that most kids' film sequels never got that chance, barring a few exceptions (thanks Toy Story!). Needless to say, I wasn't disappointed. "Dragon 2" improved on its predecessor in every way, not only offering a superior sequel and animated film, but a strong summer blockbuster in its own right. In the future, I hope film historians take note of this film, or films like it, when discussing how to make a proper blockbuster sequel. Like any sequel, we do get higher stakes and a larger scale, but the filmmakers did well to couple that with a huge emphasis on story and characters.

When making a sequel, filmmakers should pick a story that grows naturally from the first film. It should explore and expand on the unique world of the original, while giving more depth to the central story and the characters within it. If a character went through a full arc last time, a new arc must be found that builds off of who that person is. One should always ask: "after all that, what's next?" That's literally the premise of "Dragon 2", as it follows Hiccup grappling with his future after uniting Vikings and Dragons on his homeland. Having mastered flight, whole continents are open to him now, and with that comes new discoveries and new people. A looming war brought on by a Dragon Master named Drago Bludvist propels the plot, but really it's about Hiccup coming into his own as a person, after realizing his talents in the first film. It's really about deciding how best to utilize your abilities now that you're aware of them.

Couple that with the reveal of Hiccup's mother and his grief of taking over as the new chief, and you've got a winning story that organically builds off the first film. The best part is that the movie keeps the focus squarely on Hiccup's journey, but consistently delivers in the action department. It ups the ante considerably, with new dragon species and a full-on fight between two giant alpha male dragons. It's thrilling stuff, the kind summer blockbusters are made of. There are scenes that make you laugh and cry in equal measure, some of which are incredibly dark. Despite that, the film never gets too serious, always remembering to have fun and revel in the unique fantasy world it's created. Truly, "How to Train Your Dragon 2" is a wonder to behold, especially as a sequel.

And then there's "22 Jump Street." Like "Dragon", I had zero expectations with the original, and found it to be one of the best comedies in years after seeing it. The key to both the original film and its sequel's success is the full awareness that it's not needed. While the first film was a sly satire of Hollywood's excessive need to remake old properties, the sequel sets out to make fun of the very nature of sequels themselves. From an early conversation between Tatum and Hill with their captain, it's clear this was the intention. The characters themselves complain how they're given the exact same case, and how their superiors expect similar results despite there being different variables. The film just takes off running from there, playing with our expectations from the first film to deliver a movie just as funny as the original.

I adore meta-humor, and this film is simply loaded with it. You can't really go wrong with an unnecessary sequel that knows it's unnecessary. The jokes on the college lifestyle all hit, but the real success is Tatum and Hill's chemistry, which just keeps growing from the original. Like "Dragon 2", the filmmakers knew that the key was organically exploring where the characters would go after the first, but what makes this film unique is that they pulled something both funny and sincere out of a premise that wasn't needed. Again, it knows it's a cash-in sequel, so it makes fun of the very concept of cash-ins, to great effect.

While the entire film references this, the greatest example has to be the credits. In an attempt to comically one-up the sequel hook of the last film, "22" explores every sequel idea imaginable. From flight school, medical school, and semesters abroad to space, dance, and ninja academies, the final few minutes are a laugh riot. We basically get Jump Streets 23-40 and above here, spoofing not only the cash-in sequel trend, but the very idea of film franchises as well.

Where "Dragon 2" took the concept of the "bigger and better" sequel and executed it seriously and to great effect, "Jump Street" delivered a riff on the premise itself, then guaranteed a franchise couldn't happen by exercising every possible sequel idea at once. The best part is while it's fairly ridiculous, the imaginary sequels play into the theme of the film, solidifying Tatum and Hill's friendship and assuring the audience they'll partner up for many more missions to come. I don't use the term "brilliant" often when it comes to movies, especially comedies and ESPECIALLY comedy sequels, but this fully earns it.

It blows my mind that a kids film and a comedy can so perfectly capture how to make an excellent sequel, and yet "Dragon" and "Jump Street" do it. They are a testament to good storytelling and film-making. They make me believe that Hollywood can build off the strength of original works, instead of simply cashing in on them. They are, without a doubt, some of the best films I've seen so far this summer. Simply put, Michael Bay should take notes when the inevitable Transformers 5 comes out in a few years. Then again, such films will always make money, and Hollywood will always want to churn out crap to feed the masses (and their wallets). But as long as films like "Dragon 2" and "22 Jump Street" exist as a balance, there's hope for good Hollywood sequels after all.