There's a fascinating pattern in the first Transformers reviews: There is nothing to watch here, nothing to grab onto or hook into in even the simplest of ways. I staggered out of the theater feeling assaulted and insulted, but by the time I was standing out on 42nd Street in the muggy summer evening air, even those angry feelings had passed.
Richard Corliss agrees: "The final half-hour devolves into a kind of abstract-expressionist chaos, with commercials. Nothing coheres." At IndieWire, Eric Kohn complains that Michael Bay "constructs a barrage of showdowns remarkable for their ridiculous propensity to feature explosions and slo-mo, gravity-defying feats. They're all unmemorable but [...]