How Transformers 4 Ended up With Dinosaurs
A long conference table inside a Paramount Pictures meeting room was lined with men in suits. Michael Bay sat across from one of these representatives. He is explaining his vision for the fourth Transformers movie.
At the head of the table was a man who has been with Paramount for decades, and churned out more blockbusters than any executive in Hollywood. He is a rotund man, balding from years of stress. He chewed on a cigar while smoke slowly rose to the ceiling, like his soul slowly escaping. The men in suits salivate while Bay describes, in great detail, his plan for Transformers 4.
Bay’s eyes are blood-shot; snot is running from his nose and he’s sweating from explaining his story, complete with explosion sound effects. “And then, the transformers are like, CLANG, CRUSH, BASCHCOOOOM. Credits.” Bay exhales one last time and collapses in his seat.
The film Bay described was not “Transformers: Age of Extinction”. Originally, the newest installment in the Transformers franchise was to feature zombies.
The yes-men in identical suits all shouted, “Genius!” another exclaimed, “Zombies! It has to be Zombies!” “They’re so hot right now!” All the men were forcibly elated, the congratulatory chorus drowned out all sense in the room. Michael Bay was satisfied, but the man at the head of the table was motionless, except for the smoke of his cigar.
All the yes-men continued to applaud, except one. He was the youngest of the group, his suit ill-fitting and his hair slightly unkempt. He looked concerned.
The man at the head of the table took note. He moved his hand and scratched his neck with a heavy ringed finger. “You, boy!” He said in a deep voice stained by nicotine. The room fell silent. “What is it?”
The colour began to slide away from the young man’s face. “W-well, sir, it’s just that uh,” The man at the head of the table interjected. “Spit it the fuck out!”
“Sir, zombies are overdone! People are starting to get sick of zombies.”
There was a pause. All eyes were firmly fixed on the man at the head of the table. “What would you suggest?” Asked the man just before taking a long pull of his cigar.
For the young man, everything faded away. He knew that this was his chance. The next word out of his mouth would make or break his career in the machinery of Hollywood. He glanced around the table. His yes-men peers inexplicably seemed just as nervous as he was. He thought for a moment, but just a moment. In a firm voice, he looked the man at the head of the table in the eye and said, “Dinosaurs”.
There was a pause.
Wordlessly, the man brought his hand to his mouth and pulled his damp cigar out and extinguished it in a vacant crystal ashtray.
A slow smile crept onto his face. The room erupted louder than before, “Dinosaurs!” “Dinosaurs!” “Fucking Dinosaurs!” The yes-men tossed paper in the air, gleefully celebrating. Michael Bay was laughing manically with a visible erection.
The man at the head of the table got up to leave. The young man, amid the frenzy of his peers, took a deep breath and smiled.