If you haven’t heard, Michael Bay is hard at work sitting is his unwiped ass on the white couch that is our childhood memories by working on his own adaptation of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. People are mad at him, and he is mad at people for being mad.
Sure, the movie will suck, but the great thing about Michael Bay—hear me out—is that though he may ruin many of our favorite childhood memories, he does so in a retcon-free way that leaves our original love intact and unscathed. Yeah, the Transformers movies are abominations. Yeah, he’s produced every unnecessary horror reboot of the last six years.
But here’s what he’s not doing: he’s not explaining away the Force. He’s not giving Indiana Jones children. He’s not making Michael Corleone sympathetic or whitewashing the greatest Star Trek villain of all time. You can’t have a Star Wars party (nor should you) without some asshole bringing up the prequels, but you can still show off your Transformers toy collection free of guilt.
[Fri 6.28.13. 290 Harvard Street, Brookline. midnight/PG/$9.25. @thecoolidge. coolidge.org]