Bumblebee
As the sixth film in the widely derided Transformers franchise, Bumblebee asks no questions. It’s aware of the sneers that it brings just by existing, and rather than rebut those, it just does its thing. It isn’t brilliant, it isn’t profound, it isn’t awards-worthy. However, it doesn’t pretend to be any of these things. It embraces its silliness and, when far from its banal action, actually has a heart in its chest. Travis Knight’s (Kubo and the Two Strings) film isn’t an action movie but a coming of age story, and as an affectionate (if obvious) riff on The Iron Giant, Bumblebee separates itself from the pack by not being desperate to prove itself.
Most of this is reliant on the film’s separation from the rest of the franchise, as its weakest moments are those tied to the previous films. Such is its shaky opening sequence, a prologue scene in which the titular Autobot (voiced by Dylan O’Brien) tries to escape the warring Decepticons. After getting stabbed in the throat and being unable to talk, he’s sent to earth to set up a base of operations. That “base” is a junkyard outside of San Francisco. It’s also where Charlie Watson (Hailee Steinfeld) goes in her spare time.
As the film’s Hogarth stand-in, she lives with her overbearing mom (Pamela Adlon), younger brother (Jason Drucker), and new stepfather (Stephen Schneider), the latter of whom she’s especially resentful towards after her real dad’s passing. On her 18th birthday, Charlie happens upon an old Beetle that she fixes up and—what do you know!—it’s actually the giant robot from the beginning of the movie. Now she has a friend, albeit one that only purrs like a massive mecha-cat and stumbles through his surroundings like a drunken teddy bear. “You sound like a bumblebee,” she tells him. Huh? Then she continues: “Kinda matches your outfit.” Oh, well I can see that.
When it’s just Charlie and B, the film hits its stride. Part of it has to do with how the visual effects blend into their surroundings; part of it has to do with how the shading and sound design give them a sense of weight for once. A lot, however, has to do with Steinfeld’s performance. As one of Hollywood’s most undervalued young performers at the moment, only True Grit and The Edge of Seventeen have really capitalized on her charisma, and here she blends her wide-eyed enthusiasm and punky persona to match Christina Hodson’s script. It can be quite the delight at points with its quick dialogue and retro-infused witticisms, but it’s especially nice that Bumblebee roots Charlie’s angst in something tangible without ever exploiting it.
But again, Bumblebee only really hits its stride when it detaches itself from its origins and settles for a more contained structure. It’s a character-driven story whose characters are hit-or-miss. Hodson’s script starts to topple whenever the obligatory action scene pops up, and despite Knight’s tone as a director, the film still has its dreary hive of baddies that fails to engage. John Cena brings the most levity to the film’s heavier aspirations with his work as an military leader on the hunt for ol’ B, yet that’s the closest this film’s B-story gets to meshing with its main focus. Its third act is also stretched out and lacking real tension given how sewn-together the final product feels at times. It’s a good thing, then, that the preceding 75 minutes have enough vivacity to drag this back-heavy picture to the finish line, because the end result is about as satisfying as it ought to be.
Travis Knight’s previous work carried many similar themes and beats to Bumblebee and they echo here. They echo softly enough to endear rather than enrage, and the balance of teenage angst and giddy nostalgia makes for a modest balance. This is an undeniably flawed film, but it’s also a pleasure that displays the warmth and modesty it so desperately needed to succeed. Another cut or two would’ve strengthened this film, but you know what? The next one might be even better.
About the Author: Matt Cipolla
Writer and film critic for hire who has worked with Kino Lorber Studio Classics, WGN Radio, Bright Wall/Dark Room, RogerEbert.com, The Spool, and more. Firmly believes that ".gif" is pronounced "jiff." 
