Not many directors have the kind of clout it takes to stop the sun to line up a shot. That Michael Bay sure is a player.

Once upon a time, 1979 to be precise, there was a movie called The Clonus Horror. It was about a bunch of pretty people living in blissful ignorance of the fact that they’re clones of the wealthy and powerful, being raised for the sole purpose of providing spare parts if and when things start falling off the originals. Its tagline was “The only thing they don’t use . . . is the scream!” (Don’t you just love that?) One of the Darrins from Bewitched was in it. Was it any good? Well, I saw it on "Mystery Science Theater 3000"*, so you do the math.

The Clonus Horror grew up, got louder and sexier, and became The Island.

In the not too distant future, a bunch of not-necessarily-pretty people live a carefully controlled existence in a vast, underground complex. They’re told that they are the survivors of a global contamination. Every day there’s a lottery and someone is chosen to go to The Island, the last clean, natural place on Earth.

Everybody’s happy except Lincoln Six Echo (Ewan McGregor), who’d like some bacon and clothes that aren’t white. Lincoln hangs out with one of the facility's technicians (Steve Buscemi), asks a lot of questions and starts to figure out that when the powers that be say, “Congratulations, you’re going to the island,” what they really mean is, “Hey, you using that liver?” He escapes with Jordan Two Delta (Scarlett Johansson) and sets off in search of his genetic predecessor.

It's an old, sad story: two naive clones, first day in the big city. They're just one Three-Card Monty game away from a very hard lesson.

That’s when you remember: this is a Michael Bay movie. Because up until then, a couple of niggling plot points aside, (Exactly one person a day has need of their spare clone-parts? And what’s the deal with Lincoln’s missing shoe?) The Island is fairly intriguing. Stem-cell paranoia notwithstanding, the premise is implausible but fun to play with in an idle, what-if kind of way. The tension builds nicely as Lincoln unravels the mystery. McGregor, Johansson and Buscemi are fun to watch, as is Sean Bean, telegraphing evil as the facility’s director. The sets have a 70’s-sci-fi vibe that I liked.

Then they get out and the movie turns into typical Michael Bay action-movie schlock. I can just hear him on the set: “No, ALL the cars flip over. And bring in more glass. You know, for shattering.” The second half of the movie is pretty much one interminable chase scene after another, punctuated by fights and explosions. Everything is sun-drenched and slick and looks like nothing so much as a high-end 1990’s music video. You know the type of thing: a blinding light eclipsed by two lovers kissing; a guy getting shot and falling in slow motion; swooping helicopter shots. Johansson’s character, no matter what she goes through, always has perfectly tousled hair and perfectly glossed lips. (Good genes, I guess.) This over-abundance of style wore really thin for me after a while and ends up overshadowing any illusion of thoughtfulness the first act may have built up.

I guess this is what passes for “smart” sci-fi in a summer action movie, but really, it’s not. I saw a review that described The Island as “easily Michael Bay's most meaningful, well-formed and provocative work.” Well, yeah, I suppose. (And as his next film is billed as “Untitled Transformers Project” I guess it will retain the title for a while.) You know, the Twinkie is easily the most sublime of the Hostess snack cakes, but that don’t make it cuisine.

* Side note: MST3K alum Kevin Murphy was at the screening I attended. How cool is that?

Gorilla Pants rating: 1.5 out of 4 bananas