Fanboys and girls, you can finally breathe

WordMaster    

     I’ll confess that I had reservations about The Avengers: the Marvel superhero movies have been a mixed bag for me so far, and the notion of a big-budget action spectacle centered on not just one but six protagonists, all of whom should theoretically get an equal amount of attention, sounded like a formula for disaster. At best, I assumed that it would be a fun slice of escapism that critics would treat with a mix of condescension and grudging acceptance. At worst, it would be the most ambitious fiasco since… well, John Carter, though that had the benefit of low expectations. If The Avengers was anything but the cinematic equivalent of a walk-off grand slam in Game 7 of the World Series, blood would surely be spilled.

 

         To my – and no doubt other people’s – relief, neither of those predictions turned out to be right. Not only is The Avengers a blast to watch, an explosive mix of humor, angst and awesome fight scenes, but it’s also maybe one of the best superhero movies of all-time. Take notes, Hollywood: this is how you make a summer blockbuster. Despite clocking in at approximately two-and-a-half hours, The Avengers never fails to mesmerize, barreling headlong into the chaos like an enraged Hulk loose in Manhattan yet also giving its numerous heroes sufficient room to breathe and flex their ridiculously chiseled muscles. This is a ticking time bomb of a movie. Each scene brims with energy, an exhilarating, carefree vivacity that would probably be overwhelming if not for those little moments of unexpected pathos strewn here and there that leave you breathless. Joss Whedon, the geek idol whose previous credits include beloved cult TV shows Firefly and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, displays astonishing dexterity as he juggles over-the-top action set pieces with incisive, often self-deprecating banter and emotional turmoil. He treats the material at once with ironic self-awareness and the utmost respect, indulging the so-called fanboys without pandering to them, winking at the absurdity while making his passion for the characters and their stories palpable. There lies the key to first-rate superhero movies, something few directors seem to have realized: they may have godlike powers, but deep down, superheroes are still human (well, Thor is technically an actual god, but you get my point). Whedon refuses to glorify his characters, showing them in all their messy imperfections and weaknesses so that they feel less like the flat archetypes that often dominate superhero movies than like real people.

        

        Nonetheless, the star of The Avengers is its phenomenal cast. If there’s one thing that has remained consistent throughout the Marvel movies, it’s the acting; The Incredible Hulk was saved single-handedly from utter mediocrity by Edward Norton’s compelling performance, and even Iron Man 2 had Scarlett Johansson kicking ass and Sam Rockwell devouring scenery. You might think that stuffing so much (good-looking) talent into one 143-minute movie would be overkill, like forcing a pack of wolves to share one rabbit. On the contrary, the acting is what truly elevates The Avengers above “just another superhero movie”, what makes it so compulsively watchable. Watching the actors – Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, Scarlett Johannson, Jeremy Renner, Mark Ruffalo, Samuel L. Jackson and Tom Hiddleston – together onscreen is a positively mind-blowing experience. As a group, their chemistry is fiery enough to light a small city, and as individuals, they alternately ooze charisma and vulnerability. I was particularly impressed by Johannson, who manages to exude feminist empowerment while fighting in a body-hugging leather suit, and Hiddleston, he of the startlingly expressive eyes and deliciously smug smirk, though it seems unfair to pick and choose when you have a cast as uniformly wonderful as this one. This is ensemble acting at its finest.

        That said, I did have a few relatively minor problems. Given the fact that the majority of the movie does such a great job of balancing the action, comedy and drama, I found the climax a tad underwhelming. As pretentious as it sounds, I wish Whedon had supplemented the epic, CGI-heavy, property damage-laden battle sequence (which was thrilling, don’t get me wrong) with something more intimate and emotionally resonant. It seems like a letdown to spend over two hours building these character arcs, only to leave many of them dangling at the end. Judging from the audience reaction at my screening, though, most people didn’t have an issue with this. Also, a familiarity with or a fondness for the previous Marvel films is preferable since The Avengers assumes that viewers already have some sort of relationship with the characters.

         In two months, the Internet will inevitably be filled with debates over whether The Avengers is better than The Dark Knight Rises (The Amazing Spider-Man might join them, but to be honest, that one doesn’t have the same level of anticipation as the others). And, if you’ll allow me to be cynical for a second, those debates will inevitably boil down to this: The Dark Knight Rises is the serious, gritty one about timely political issues, whereas The Avengers is the fun, lighthearted one about shit blowing up. Although both of those descriptions are accurate to some extent, they do a disservice to both movies. Counter to popular opinion, it’s entirely possible to like Christopher Nolan’s Batman films as pure entertainment rather than profound social commentaries, and The Avengers deserves to be taken more seriously than run-of-the-mill escapist fluff. It may not have the thematic depth of The Dark Knight, but The Avengers is arguably just as revolutionary. Here, bigger does not equal better; on the contrary, Whedon proves (once again) that even the noisiest, flashiest, most heavily hyped extravaganza needs a soul beneath its lavish suit of armor. For, more than any other superhero movie, The Avengers is a movie about superheroes and why we can’t live without them, even though we might scoff at them: especially in our post-9/11 world of constant anxiety, they provide a comforting dose of old-fashioned values, hope for salvation from the anarchy. Superheroes aren’t here to save us from monsters, it says. They’re here to save us from ourselves.