For the sake of transparency, I’m not going to write this
review under any pretense of objectivity. As I’ve made abundantly (and probably
obnoxiously) evident on this blog, I have major issues with Marvel and
superhero movies in general, and I had a lot of expectations riding on Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the
second feature film centered on the star-spangled super-soldier. In a
far-fetched way, I was in a similar position to the resurrected Steve Rogers:
disillusioned and clinging to some delicate shred of hope that the future just might be brighter than the present gives
us reason to believe. This movie would either restore my faith in Hollywood
blockbusters or completely ruin my desire to ever pay for another superhero
blockbuster.
At
first, it didn’t look promising. I could actually feel my heart sinking as Captain America and his fellow
S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, including the enigmatic ex-Soviet spy Black Widow, boarded
a ship to rescue hostages from Algerian pirates for an extended action sequence
with no immediate purpose in terms of the overarching narrative. It turned out
that the scene wasn’t superfluous, but its function only became apparent much
later in the movie; as an opening set-piece, it was less than enthralling,
plunging viewers into a situation without allowing them to get thoroughly
(re)acquainted with the characters beforehand or informing them of the stakes
involved, of why they should care. Not helping was the awkward humor, which
lacked the sardonic zip we’ve come to expect from even the more subpar entries
in the Avengers mega-franchise.
Just as
I started to resign myself to yet another should’ve-been-better Marvel
offering, something suddenly clicked. I can’t pinpoint the precise moment my
mood shifted from disappointed to thrilled, but it must have been sometime
around when Robert Redford entered the picture, sporting a stark gray suit and
old-fashioned spectacles as menacing S.H.I.E.L.D. official Alexander Pierce.
It’s widely agreed that villains are something of a weak point for Marvel, yet
even as an outspoken critic of the studio, I think that shortcoming might be
overstated. After all, Tom Hiddleston’s Loki is by far the closest any other superhero
antagonist has come to matching the intoxicating, compulsively watchable allure
of Heath Ledger’s Joker, and even lesser baddies such as Guy Pearce’s Aldrich
Killian have been elevated by forceful performances. Pierce belongs closer to the
latter group. His motives and background are rather hazy, his diabolical
scheme not quite holding up to close scrutiny, yet thanks to Redford, it hardly
matters. With his weathered face and steely gaze, the veteran performer brings
a welcome gravitas to the largely fanciful proceedings, unexpectedly resisting
the impulse to chew scenery in favor of a restrained, almost world-weary
iciness.