A missive from the swamps of nostalgia:
I was reading an excellent fan review of (as they call it) “The Movie” and the reviewer says that for her the film was all about Autobot leader Optimus Prime. I have to agree, it was the redemption I have been looking for since I got my heart broken in 1986. Of course, having your hero from when you were 12 redeemed when you are 35 makes you seriously examine your feelings and the reasons you might have had (and still have) for loving something as patently silly as the Transformers.
Partly it’s nostalgia. I’m going to go back and watch the first few seasons of the show and I’m going to cringe at how awful it is. But I’m going to stick with it.
Transformers came into my life at a particularly influential time. I was not a popular kid. I know a lot of us can say that, and it’s probably true. Popularity is a rare commodity.
I got along best with younger kids and adults. Kids my own age seemed mean and intimidating. And that was part of the appeal of the giant robots. They were strong and powerful, like adults. They had serious concerns and larger causes that motivated them and this concern for larger things made them seem above the petty personality squabbles that are a daily part of tween life. But they were also like little kids. They could be charmingly naive and they looked to their human friends for guidance and information (well the Autobots did, at least). They exemplified the perfect friends and playmates; powerful, dynamic, open, curious and friendly.
They were also completely blind to the traditional markers of human charisma. Intelligence and bravery were more important qualities than looks, and kids who were absorbed in the typical round of school and friends would not have been alert or aware enough to even notice their existence (until the rocket blasts destroyed the gym, of course). The humans who had meaningful interactions with Transformers were loners, people who looked for and appreciated the unusual. The popular, self-absorbed people were the ones running for their lives as the mall roof collapsed. This was a mindset I could identify with.
And they appealed to my sense of the romantic. The life and death struggle between noble heroes and dastardly villans, the overheated dialogue, the sheer masculinity of the whole endeavor (a quality that comes across even more strongly in the live action movie, by the way). It has a whole sweeping quality that is very appealing to a pubescent teen girl. A lot of the feelings I could have been developing for boys got sublimated into robots. Real boys were scary and unpredictable. They were too earthy and knowing for me. But giant robots on TV were dashing and romantic. They had a statue-like aesthetic with smooth faces and powerful limbs. They combined the best qualities of strength and manliness with a reassuring asexuality that made them perfect fantasy fodder. There was a lot of swooning and being picked up and carried in my fantasies, but it all stopped firmly there (despite what my husband may think).
And the biggest, most manly, most powerful robot was, of course, Optimus Prime. Mostly it was that voice. A slightly smoky baritione, strong and clear. It still gives me shivers to hear it. And he CARED about people. He would sacrifice himself, put himself in harm’s way to protect others. You can call it hackneyed, but when I was 12 it was glorious. I grew up in a loving home. I knew about (but didn’t truly understand) the daily small sacrifices that love demands. But this was love writ large. This was conviction and ideals in action. And it kept on happening. I know that’s the most unrealistic part, but Prime was always willing to step up and because it was a TV show, we knew things would always work out all right in the end. Until the one time it didn’t.
That was the worst part. It was a death that happened because everyone did what everyone has always done. Megatron was devious, Prime was noble, some innocent fool wandered into harm’s way and suddenly my hero is gone. The people behind the scenes upped the stakes, but they never told the characters.
Ever since then I’ve been second-guessing movies, marking people for death and being stoically unsurprised when it comes. I was determined not to get fooled again. It even happened with the most recent Transformers film. At one point Prime declares that if necessary he will absorb the macguffin into his body in order to neutralize it. And I said, that’s it, he’s a goner, again. But it didn’t turn out that way. I’m not going to spoil the movie for anyone, but I am glad the filmmakers realized that their fan base has matured and gave us a chance to redeem our hero in such a satisfying way. It was as if our hands were holding that macguffin, righting a 20 year wrong. And I am glad!
Sparkly Things 