So I was playing "Cub Reporter" the other day, inching toward a clump of nerdlings in heated debate about "Transformers," since only recently did I learn that Optimus Prime is the leader of the good-guy robots in disguise (my guesses had been "calculus theorem" or "lesser-known pope"). But I soon scuttled away like a baffled crab, certain that my ignorance would hinder any grasp of the movie. It's times like this I appreciate "Transformers" director Michael Bay, friend to the lowest common denominator. Other times I think Bay's filmmaking license should be revoked, bathed in blood, and fed to piranhas.

"Transformers" opens with some wordy claptrap about the Allspark, an important space cube designed to help somebody somewhere do something (here on Earth it's called a MacGuffin), but before that info can be processed an Air Force base in Qatar gets relieved of its top secrets and then wholly decimated by a massive mechanical scorpion. Back in California, an uncool kid named Sam (Shia LaBeouf, "Disturbia") buys his first car, a battered Camaro that seems to have a mind of its own. Sam hopes his new old ride will help him woo a pretty classmate from the wrong side of the --- wait, wait, wait.

If you've seen one Michael Bay film, you've seen them all: convoluted plot that boils down to good versus evil; dumb, preachy script; explosions aplenty; and humans of limited depth and relevance. You also likely know what Transformers can do (hint: there's more than meets the eye). The only reason to see Bay's first family film is the eye-popping CGI that brings the Transformers to noisy life. It's astonishing next-level technology, seamless in its execution and gobsmacking to behold. Bad bot Megatron's excruciatingly detailed morph from nimble jet into gracefully lumbering tower of metal engaged in a battle royale with the equally intricate Optimus Prime is a testament to the talent of the anonymous people who slave over computers creating this kind of art. Over the film's final 20 minutes your jaw should become very familiar with the floor.

Excepting the increasingly likeable LaBeouf and a scene-stealing John Turturro as a shadowy government op, the characters veer between predictably underdeveloped and absurdly offensive, with the women inhabiting male-fantasy caricatures (the hot hacker, the gearhead nymph) as soulless as their whirring, clanging co-stars, and respected actors Bernie Mac and Anthony Anderson both nearly reduced to a shocking shuck-and-jive. And good luck watching Bay's clichéd, street-level camera swirls now without giggling over "Hot Fuzz."

Oh, I forgot two more hallmarks of a Michael Bay film. Look for wanton product placement ("Transformers" is essentially a brilliant $150M ad for GM) and marvel at his almost pornographic symbiosis with the American military that truthfully warrants closer inspection. Simply put, Michael Bay movies are like drunken sex at the office Christmas party: You'll need to catch your breath occasionally, you'll definitely want to shower when you get home, and the next day you'll totally act like you didn't enjoy it.

"I want my death to be for you," she whispers, and with that we've entered the claustrophobic world of an unnamed suicide bomber in Julia Loktev's absorbing character study "Day Night Day Night." Luisa Williams makes a memorable film debut as the aspiring martyr, and for 94 minutes she commands your attention, barely speaking and rarely leaving the frame. Cloaked in an indistinguishable ethnicity and with dark-circled eyes of a color that can only be described as wrong, she gives us no clues as to her reasons for sacrifice. She is obviously a woman of unconditional faith, and "Day Night" demands that the viewer, in turn, have faith in her.

It's a ballsy move in this day and age to ask the audience to identify with a terrorist, but she seems like a girl anyone might know. She's both timid and polite, and we observe as various masked accomplices school her in her deadly mission. Her intense zealotry is evident in the way she washes, the way she eats, and once she hits the streets of Manhattan with 50 pounds of explosives and shrapnel in her backpack, it's quite possible you might be rooting for her to succeed.

At once both leisurely and tense, "Day Night" withholds details we think we need and may be frustrating for those who need to understand why. But why is the biggest question about the act of self-detonation and one that a deliberately faceless believer will never stop and answer.

"Transformers" (PG-13), directed by Michael Bay, is playing everywhere | "Day Night Day Night" (NR), directed by Julia Loktev, opens Friday, July 13, at Little Theatres.