Photo By Doug Hyun

(L-R) Scarlett Johansson and Ewan McGregor with director Michael Bay on the set of The Island.

NEW YORK CITY -- Some say Michael Bay is the devil, the man responsible for the death of cinema as we know it. It seems the director behind such crass mainstream entertainments as The Rock, Armageddon, Pearl Harbor and the Bad Boys films has no shame when it comes to his particular brand of slam-bam cinema.

Bay specializes in disaster movies, the kind of stories where nothing less than the entirety of civilization hangs in the balance. His films revel in big explosions, big visual flourishes and big emotions. Subtle he is not.

Critics hate him, and Hollywood loves him -- each of Bay's films has eclipsed $100 million in box office revenue.

If Bay's the devil, he's looking pretty harmless these days. Sporting jeans, an un-tucked black dress shirt and two-day stubble, the 40-year-old director strides into a New York City hotel room with surprising nonchalance. In person he looks like Peter Horton, the studly, surfer-coiffed dude from thirtysomething.

"Sorry, guys, long night. I have a lot of friends in New York," Bay says as he sits down with a small group of journalists.

He's here to discuss his latest film, The Island, a futuristic sci-fi thriller starring Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johansson set in 2025.

The project is a departure for Bay. It marks the first time he's worked without blockbuster producer and longtime buddy Jerry Bruckheimer. (The film came to the director's attention via DreamWorks and Steven Spielberg, who said he thought of Bay immediately after reading the script.) It also features an intriguing premise, one that requires, yes, subtlety. (Spoiler alert: Some essential plot points are about to be revealed.)

McGregor is Lincoln Six-Echo and Johansson is Jordan Two-Delta, just two of many people living in a contained, underground facility called Centerville. As the film opens, we learn that the outside world has been contaminated and Centerville's occupants make up the last hope for mankind's existence.

The twist? The inhabitants are actually clones who don't know they're being harvested to provide body parts to their various owners. As the story proceeds, Lincoln begins asking questions about this so-called island, a supposed utopian oasis that turns out to be anything but.

The Island conjures some nuanced, morally ambiguous questions, rare traits in the bombastic universe of a Michael Bay film. The first 30 minutes features nary an action sequence.

"The idea, the concept was very attractive," Bay says. "You want to grow each time you go out, and I think it's great how I really held back and wasn't slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am, like I normally do. I was biting my tongue. I was like, 'God, I hope it works, I hope it works.' Because I didn't know if this place, Centerville, would be cool or (if it) was ridiculous.

"I'm getting more into characters and actors and building story, you know? I'm getting disinterested with action. I'm bored doing that. I still do it, but it's about other things now."

A desire to grow would seem a normal progression for most filmmakers. Yet as Bay discusses the The Island and its relative challenges, it's clear he was antsy when it came to filming the more intimate, character-driven scenes. Notoriously manic on the set, it was all he could do to contain himself.

"(The) third day they're (McGregor and Johansson) in dirty white suits, and they're running up to that old bank," he says. "The first bit of dialogue is, 'Lincoln, what if we're contaminated. Look, everything's dead.' And I'm thinking, 'Oh my God, this is such a flop, what am I doing out here? This is horrible, horrible!' "

Bay's fears were largely unfounded. Amid a summer of unimaginative retreads, The Island is a unique, often thought-provoking take on a popcorn flick. And while many of his heavy-handed trademarks surface during the chase sequences that dominate the film's second half -- the soundtrack booms and the glossy visuals are affected beyond necessity -- The Island is his most compelling effort to date.

"When people walk out of the theater, I just want them to think -- if they could, would they own a clone?" he says. "The thing that's universal about this movie is that we all want to live longer. It's human nature, and it's to what price will you go to live longer. If there was a facility like this, I guarantee you a lot of people would invest in it."

One of The Island's more entertaining sequences involves Lincoln Six-Echo meeting the man responsible for his existence, Tom Lincoln, a hard-drinking motocross champion looking to replace a faulty liver. The playful and then contentious interaction between the clone and his benefactor -- both played with clear glee by McGregor -- gives the stem cell issue a new, visceral reality. Their interaction is one of the reasons Bay wanted to make the movie.

"Even though Tom Lincoln knows that he's created this thing, this person -- this living, breathing, feeling thing -- he's selfish enough to say, 'Listen, I don't care, I want my liver. I made it. You don't have a soul; I want my liver. I want to live.' "

Does Bay see The Island as an attempt to make amends with his many critics? Maybe.

"I'm so used to them hating me, that it's like, 'You know, I don't think it matters anymore.' It'd be nice if they did (like me), but you gotta make a movie for an audience, that's just the way I look at it. Especially a summertime movie." ©