Recently, they’ve sparked an abundance of both. “I’m not trying to drive labor out just to drive labor out, but for consistency and efficiency.
“The vision I have and won’t live to see is a completely ‘lights out’ operation,” says Winzeler, who is 72. Winzeler hopes robots will ultimately replace all flesh-and-blood production workers, leaving just the higher-skilled, better-paid technical and administrative staff, and making it possible for his company to remain a globally competitive manufacturer. Now, with 43 robots, 35 fulltime human workers and 15 part-timers, it turns out up to 15 million gears a month (average price: one nickel). In 1985, the factory employed 60 people and produced 2 million gears a month. Maybe with your help, its worldwide earning might even overtake the GDP of the Philippines, a fairly moderate sovereign economy located in Southeast Asia and home to around fifty million people whose daily meal is equal to the amount of money you are about to spend to watch Revenge of the Fallen.If we embrace the robots that humanity is on the brink of creating, the issue will be whether these machines and people can coexist in solidarity, within a world of unprecedented wealth.īig factories have employed such robots for the past 50 years, but few small companies have pushed robotics as far as Winzeler Gear, which will soon be adding a cutting-edge “collaborative” robot to its workforce - a flexible robot that is easily programmable for different tasks.ĭespite stiff competition from factories in low-wage countries, Winzeler Gear has thrived in Chicago thanks to its robots.
#Transformers robotize me movie#
I might as well stop and just let you and the rest of the world storm to the movie theaters and spend two and a half hours of your life watching this flick, and contribute to its ever-increasing haul. Bay utilizes every trick in his three-page pamphlet of directorial techniques, and what we essentially get is a headache-inducing encyclopedia of what the grossly inadequate director learned making such classic crowd favorites as Bad Boys (1995), The Rock (1996), Armageddon (1998), Pearl Harbor (2001), and Bad Boys II (2003): slow-mos, circular pans, explosions-in-exchange-for-logic storytelling, boobs-butt-and-legs-in-exchange-for-personality characterization, and obviously manufactured sentimentalism.īut what the heck, you're not going to listen anyway and still award this heap of trash with heaps of your hard-earned cash. The story is all over the place, jumping from one focal point to another like a horny Lothario in Amsterdam's red light district, but essentially getting nowhere. It is not so much the intellectual void that bothers me but the fact that the film is to put it plainly, sensually torturous. I listened to my friends who advised me to "leave your brain outside the cinema and just enjoy the show." I did exactly that, but I was still annoyed by this gargantuan vomit ball. Sure, they are colorful, humongous, and they make loud noises and huge explosions when they fight, but they are essentially ornaments, whose most acknowledged function in the franchise is to help sell action figures and burger meals, nothing more.ĭon't get me wrong. Bumblebee, the franchise's inconsequential mascot (designed without a voice but with puppydog mechanical eyes), descends to factotum status. Even his death, accompanied with the requisite slow-mo and music, failed to move me. Optimus Prime, the supposed figurehead of the good transformers, is disposable scrap. Unfortunately, none of that really matter because the transformers who matter are as dull as earthworms hunting for prey. Bay's team of writers detail a transformer's life cycle, from how they are hatched from transparent eggs to age into grumpy yet noble giants.
I appreciate the effort to de-robotize the transformers. Revenge of the Fallen is the cinematic equivalent of a pimply thirteen year old kid who is suffering from a chronic case of bursting libido, with only gigabytes of internet pornography and succeeding wet dreams to quell his overactive hormones. Fox's shimmering leg, and a Decepticon transforming into every shallow-headed college boy's dream girl. Thus, some of us have to suffer through a bulldog and a chihuahua in visualized acts of fornication, a squeaky-voiced robot humping Ms. This is not the adult and mature understanding of sex, but the prepubescent one, where each hump equates to a giggle and a high five between friends. Bay's sequel has this incessant need to nag about sex. Thus, Revenge of the Fallen is grossly ostentatious in its excesses. Michael Bay, who effectively turned the 80's cartoons inspired by a line of robot toys into a massively lucrative movie franchise by following his gut instinct of dishing out entertainment that satisfies humanity's basest cravings, sex and violence (and more importantly, without the accompanying guilt of devouring such pleasures), reuses the formula, only this time with larger doses.
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