At one point during Joss Whedon’s mega-blockbuster The Avengers, Nick Fury muses that
heroes are “an old-fashioned notion”. Indeed, after the Cold War, Watergate,
9/11 and dozens of other scandals, controversies and tragedies, the idea of
superheroes – extraordinary individuals who combat evildoers and protect their societies
with the help of a secret identity – seems hopelessly naïve. Even as we admire
the physical and moral qualities of superheroes, we can’t quite get rid of that
thought nagging at the back of our minds: why should we put the safety of the
community, if not the entire world, in the hands of a guy dressed in spandex
tights, who is just as fallible as the rest of us? The whole idea isn’t
inspiring so much as ridiculous and more than a little elitist.
So, it
seems paradoxical to say that 2012, a year that has seen the U.S. mired in seemingly
endless economic turmoil and an already-tiresome presidential campaign,
represents the Golden Age of superhero movies. The 21st century has been
largely defined by cynicism, bitterness and gloom, yet never has the superhero
genre, one almost relentless in its romanticism and naiveté, been so popular,
so mainstream. And to cap it all off, this year – this summer, to be more
specific – heralded the release of three of the most eagerly anticipated
superhero movies in history, a holy triumvirate that brought a decade-long
struggle for acceptance to its rousing (and lucrative) climax: The Avengers, The Amazing Spider-Man and, at long last, The Dark Knight Rises. What’s remarkable about these films is not
the overwhelming hype leading up to them or their inevitable annihilation of
the box office but the fact that collectively, they showcase everything that
superhero movies are capable of, embracing the genre’s tropes while also pushing
its boundaries in subtle and exciting ways. Enjoy this, fellow moviegoers: we’re
witnessing the end of an era, a genre at its best, and more likely than not,
we’ll never see anything like it again.
It’s interesting to think about
how far superhero movies have come in the past ten years. When Bryan Singer’s X-Men came out in 2000, few
film-makers took comic books seriously. It was a trifling medium to them,
aimed primarily at children and devoid in material rich enough to warrant full-length
movie adaptations. Richard Donner’s Superman
and Tim Burton’s Batman received critical
acclaim and financial success, but otherwise, the genre was confined to
television serials and campy blockbusters along the lines of Joel Schumacher’s Batman & Robin, which was derided so
thoroughly that the director himself publicly
apologized for it. Then came X-Men,
closely followed by Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man,
and Hollywood suddenly realized that superheroes were a viable commercial
option. After a series of minor victories and even more flops (Daredevil alone probably set the
industry back a couple years), superhero cinema finally came of age in 2005
with Batman Begins.
Can we all agree to pretend this never happened?
The Christopher Nolan-directed reboot revolutionized the
genre with its grim tone, noir-inspired visuals and psychologically complex
hero, garnering praise that reviewers rarely lavished on blockbusters,
especially those based on comic books. Its sequel, 2008’s The Dark Knight, became the most celebrated superhero film in the
history of the Academy Awards by collecting eight nominations and two wins (for sound editing and supporting actor Heath Ledger) and appeared
on numerous “Best of the Year” lists, as critics fell head-over-heels for its
gritty crime thriller sensibilities and resonant political commentary. That
same year, Marvel countered with the more upbeat, tongue-in-cheek Iron Man, which caught the public’s
attention primarily for Robert Downey Jr.’s acerbic lead performance and
kick-started the billion-dollar franchise that groomed the world for The Avengers. In other words, within the
last decade, superhero movies have evolved from an oft-disdained niche genre
that “serious” directors and filmgoers avoided the way millionaires avoid taxes
to a staple of the summer blockbuster season revered not only by comic book aficionados,
but also by the public as a whole and, on occasion, critics.
By the
time 2012 rolled around, superhero movies no longer needed to prove their legitimacy.
Backed by glitzy, high-profile marketing campaigns that bombarded highways, movie
theaters and TV screens across America and the deafening buzz generated by
legions of apprehensive, excited, merciless fans, The Avengers, The Amazing
Spider-Man and The Dark Knight Rises
made one thing clear: superheroes are no longer outsiders; they’re the new
establishment. The genre once shunned by film-makers and studios everywhere now
promises to almost single-handedly rescue Hollywood from its continued box office
woes. But as it turns out, there’s another, more important cause for
celebration – namely that, even with the sky-high expectations surrounding
them, all three movies manage to live up to their hype (in the case of The Amazing Spider-Man, it’s better than
it really has any right to be). Unlike earlier superhero flicks, which
frequently came off either as live-action comic books or expensive fan service,
they feel like real movies rather than adaptations, effective both as
companions to their source material and as separate entities. The former two
are slightly hampered by a lack of closure, as they’re obviously intended to
provide set up for sequels (more on that later), but in general, each of them
has a life of its own, a sense of identity that distinguishes it from your usual
disposable blockbuster. Most of all, they strike the right balance between
escapist thrills and artistic ingenuity, proving once again that the words
“blockbuster” and “imagination” need not be mutually exclusive.
It’s
tempting to compare the three movies – in fact, I can imagine that the Internet
was flooded with heated debates over why The
Avengers is far superior to The Dark
Knight Rises, and vice versa, long before either film even saw the light of
day – but the truth is that, even though I have my biases that will no doubt
become apparent throughout this blog post, I can’t help but appreciate how different they are, how each of them
brings something unique to the superhero genre. Regardless of their individual
strengths and weaknesses, they all accomplish what they set out to do. The
first movie to feature a team of superheroes, The Avengers shows how ensemble chemistry can lend an extra spark
to an otherwise commonplace plot, as much of the fun comes from watching the
various actors exchange witty banter. It’s undoubtedly the most flat-out
entertaining of the three with its infectious energy and carefree tone, though
Whedon punctuates the mania with moments of unexpected pathos. The Amazing Spider-Man is a fresh (and
arguably improved) take on a familiar character. Webb exposes his indie
sensibilities as he fashions a coming-of-age story more intimate than you’d
usually expect from a tent pole blockbuster, showing more interest in Peter
Parker as a human being than as a superhero. The Dark Knight Rises, however, is anything but intimate. Ambitious
in its scope and themes, it’s the epic, more-than-satisfying conclusion to a
near-perfect trilogy, a worthy successor to arguably the best superhero film
ever.
The Avengers & co. also signals a potential turning point in
the portrayal of women in superhero movies. It seems vaguely ridiculous that
movies still get showered with praise for giving their female characters more
depth than your average cardboard cut-out, but unfortunately, this is the world
we live in, so when we get not just one but three
blockbusters with well-written women in the same year, it deserves a mention.
Let’s start at the top. Although not
everyone seems willing to admit it, Black Widow is one of the best things
about The Avengers. With her exceptional
combat skills and an impressive knack for manipulation, Scarlett Johannson’s
redemption-seeking superspy is beyond a doubt one of the best female superheroes
ever committed to film (admittedly, there isn’t much competition, but still). My
fellow blogger C.E. Jenkins already wrote
a whole post about this, so I’ll just summarize: Black Widow is great for
female superheroes because she kicks ass, she has no visible romantic
connection to any of her fellow superheroes, and despite her enigmatic persona,
she’s just as well-rounded as her male counterparts (I’d argue that she’s
actually the most compelling character in the entire movie). Yet critics who
claim to be disgusted by the blatant misogyny of superhero movies can’t seem to
get past the fact that she’s wearing a body-hugging leather suit, as though
it’s her fault that whenever men see
breasts, a basic part of female anatomy by the way, the first thing they think
is, she’s trying to seduce me! She must
be a slut! What’s the point of advocating for greater representation of
women in Hollywood if you can’t even acknowledge when it’s done right?
Also, look at this picture and then tell me who’s
showing more skin.
The
Amazing Spider-Man’s Gwen Stacy is probably the most traditional of the
women from these movies since her purpose is still technically that of a
conventional love interest. But as played by Emma Stone, she feels anything but
conventional (at least by Hollywood standards). She’s pretty, but not
outrageously beautiful or overtly sexualized, as most women – and,
disturbingly, girls – are in movies. She’s highly intelligent, not in the “I’m
so artsy and creative” way that “smart” Hollywood women are
but in the nerdy and bookish way that most real smart people are; in fact, the
film makes a point of suggesting that Gwen is even brainier than Peter Parker,
who appears to be the Will Hunting of the superhero world. And she’s completely
capable of taking care of herself. During the climactic action scene, she
escapes to safety, but it’s understandable because she’s a teenage girl who has
no superpowers and most likely doesn’t know much in the way of hand-to-hand (or
hand-to-claw) combat. Also, she doesn’t leave until after she finishes cooking
the antidote and effectively saves the entire city, despite her father and boyfriend’s
insistence on protecting her. Take that, Mary Jane Watson.
Spin-offs, please!
If there’s one thing we should take
away from these movies, it’s this: the key to good superhero movies is the
cast. In blockbusters, actors are generally considered secondary to action
sequences and CGI explosions, and some even assert that effects-driven
movies have made acting irrelevant. However, I would go so far as to argue
that the actors (with the help of their adept directors) are what elevate The Avengers, The Amazing Spider-Man and The
Dark Knight Rises above the standard chaotic action flick. I’d be tempted
to go through the casts of each movie one by one because they’re so great, but
in the interest of not boring you to death, I won’t; if you’re interested, you
can check out the blog’s reviews of all three
movies as well as StarGazer’s post
about acting in blockbusters. Anyway, with their large-scale, often
preposterous plots and flashy eye-candy, superhero movies depend heavily on the
talent and charisma of their actors to keep the proceedings grounded in
something at least vaguely resembling reality, adding emotion and gravitas to
what would otherwise be a two-hour (or two-and-a-half-hour, more like) orgy of
clanging metal and fake fire. Could anyone really claim that The Avengers would have worked as well
as it did if the enormous ensemble hadn’t happened to share such vibrant,
pitch-perfect chemistry? Or that The
Amazing Spider-Man would have been even passable without Andrew Garfield
and Emma Stone in the lead roles? Or that Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy would have been the critical and financial hit
that it was if, say, David
Boreanaz or Jake Gyllenhaal had played Bruce Wayne instead of Christian Bale?
I mean, they’re both fine actors, but Batman they are not. In the end, superheroes
may have extraordinary powers, but their humanity never disappears, even when it’s
concealed behind a mask.
Unfortunately,
it’s hard to imagine superhero movies maintaining this level of quality. At
Comic-Con this year, Marvel revealed
its slate of upcoming projects: Guardians
of the Galaxy, Captain America: The
Winter Soldier, Thor: The Dark World,
Iron Man 3 and Ant-Man. Other prominent upcoming superhero movies include Man of Steel, Zack Snyder’s Superman
reboot that actually doesn’t
look completely terrible, the as-yet-untitled follow-up to The Amazing Spider-Man that I could
swear was announced before filming on the first one even finished and The Wolverine, the sequel to X-Men Origins: Wolverine that sounded
vaguely intriguing way
back when Darren Aronofsky was attached to direct. Noticeably, five of the eight
are sequels. I’m not saying that none of these have the potential to be good
because I’m tentatively interested in quite a few of them, but it’s hard not to
be exasperated by the fact that all superhero movies are pretty much guaranteed
sequels, regardless of how
successful the original one was. Soon, when studios have exhausted their
supply of new characters to build franchises around, the superhero genre will
probably be nothing but an endless chain of sequels, reboots and spin-offs. I
understand that that’s essentially the way comic books work, with their ongoing
storylines, sprawling universes and constantly reinvented characters, but the
thing is, movies aren’t the same as comic books. You can’t spend hundreds of
millions of dollars to recycle the same plot and characters over and over
again, and you can’t keep dragging out one story forever until it peters out;
at some point, it has to end.
I suppose it wouldn’t be as big of
a deal if film-makers continued to put genuine effort into these movies or
showed more creativity when making them. It seems to be common practice for
directors to start a franchise, only to ditch it after the first installment
and move onto other projects. Obviously, a lot of this due is to the deadlines
imposed on them by studios anxious to churn out movies as rapidly as possible,
and I can’t blame them for wanting to take a break from the stringent demands
and relentless pressure of working on a multimillion-dollar blockbuster, but in
a time when many superhero franchises have a bland, anonymous quality, it would
be nice to see more that feel like the distinct product of one individual’s
imagination. And of course, we all know how reluctant Hollywood is when it
comes to taking risks. Everyone seems fixated on the idea that the appeal of
superhero movies – and blockbusters in general – lies in their deafening action
scenes and dazzling special effects, even though nothing could be further from
the truth. Even in the boisterous, CGI-heavy The Avengers, the climactic 45-minute fight scene would be utterly
dull and uninspired if Joss Whedon hadn’t bothered to take the time to develop
the characters and their relationships beforehand. The Avengers does not prove that bigger is better; on the contrary,
it proves that bigger is only better if we give a damn. Still, the studio’s
thought process after seeing the movie’s mind-boggling box office success will
probably be something along the lines of: The
Avengers has explosions. People like The
Avengers. Therefore, people like explosions. Chances are, The Avengers 2 (or whatever it ends up
being called) will follow in the footsteps of Iron Man 2, taking something enjoyable and charming and amplifying
it until it becomes a cluttered, cacophonous mess. Maybe I’m being overly
cynical, but it’s hard not to be at least a little apprehensive, especially since
Hollywood still seems to regard superhero movies as a venue for mindless
escapism.
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