Posts Tagged ‘Marvel Comics’

Captain America: The First Avenger

July 21, 2011

Actually, yes, the United States did flirt with eugenics for a while, and Nazi Germany did try to vaporize whole populations, but of course those scenes played out a lot less wholesomely than do the plot points in “Captain America: The First Avenger.” Even having the word “avenger” in its title at all seems bold for the movie in question, whose emotional baseline is so safe, so neutral, that for a while there he might as well be Captain Switzerland. (Consider also the perforated cheese of the plot.)

Just have a little faith, avers director Joe Johnston, with writers Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, for maybe you can get a good summer blockbuster from a comic book based on a 70-year-old propaganda trope. Just like maybe you can get a metabolically enhanced “super-soldier” from a puny and sickly but brave and eager kid.

Chances are better than average if the kid’s played by Chris Evans, who got into superhero movies as the man on fire in “Fantastic Four” but now at last inhabits his more suitable element. Here he is as Steve Rogers, the willing World War II enlistee who actualizes a pronouncement made by Stanley Tucci’s sagely-schmaltzy German scientist: “A weak man knows the value of strength.” However weird it is to behold those early scenes with Evans’ head digitally grafted onto somebody else’s much less brawny body, his face and voice seem durable and reassuring. Swerving away from self-pity and into plausible humility, passing tests of character with declarative pluck, his Rogers is as ready for this particular promotion to captain as anybody can be — ready to stand up and sacrifice himself, if necessary, for the privilege of luxuriating in chastely spiffy, square-jawed Americana.

This is twice-filtered nostalgia, really, as Johnston draws much from the vintage Lucas-Spielberg playbook, itself a study of the pulp serials those directors grew up with. But moral reductiveness affords a certain popcorn-compatible clarity of presentation. In “Captain America”’s world, every Allied soldier is a decent guy, every woman a pin-up-worthy beauty, every authority figure an avuncular wit and every villain a faceless monster — be he a bondage-hooded foot soldier or, well, the aptly named Red Skull. Sebastian Stan, Hayley Atwell, Tommy Lee Jones and Hugo Weaving pose very naturally in these respective categories, each enjoying and enlivening the proceedings considerably. Meanwhile Toby Jones gives a glimmer of intelligence to a sub-par supporting role in just such a way as to suggest we’d all be better served had the role been reduced to a single scene.

Affability can’t last forever, and doesn’t, in a film so willing to neutralize its own personality for the sake of humdrum plot. But overall it does compare favorably with recently reviewed YouTube snippets of the draggy 1979 “Captain America” TV movie, which plays like educational-film-strip kitsch, and the 1990 attempt, which appears to have just plain sucked.

Determinedly, this one works as another component of a now familiar franchise kit. Iron Man’s father is here, and the inter-dimensional portal that brought us Thor, and so on. As to that bold extra bit of title, it too obviously sets up next summer’s “The Avengers” — cleverly encouraging us to wonder just how the good captain’s super-square valor and virtue will play in (the comic book movie version of) the America of now.

Thor

May 5, 2011

We know this about Thor: Thursday is named after him. The movie doesn’t get into that. Too banal? Also, he’s the god of thunder, which the movie does get into, vividly; and maybe more importantly, he’s the property of Marvel Entertainment since the 1960s, when he became the cover boy for an odd but muscular combination of Norse mythology and comic books.

Now, in “Thor,” he’s an arrogant, impertinent warrior prince, played by the Australian actor and blond beefcake Chris Hemsworth. This Thor hails from a celestial realm in which magic and science, as he later has an expository duty to explain, are one. His father Odin is the king there, and is played by Anthony Hopkins, who also does a lot of explaining. So much explaining, actually, that the movie itself gets fidgety and can’t resist cutting away from him. Odin’s kingdom has an uneasy detente with the frost giants from just down the galaxy. Thor hates those assholes, and could go on fighting under-lit, incoherent, computer-generated battles with them all day. But his brother Loki, played by Tom Hiddleston, is more circumspect. Maybe too circumspect. Something might be up with Loki, something untrustworthy.

Anyway, Thor gets expelled from his kingdom just prior to assuming its throne. After too much arrogant, impertinent warmongering, he needs humility lessons, like when you run a red light and have to go to driving school. Banished via intergalactic wormhole, he winds up in small-town New Mexico — which, although it obviously lacks the other realms’ production-design budgets, is not so bad. There’s a beautiful, available love interest, played by Natalie Portman, who just happens to be studying intergalactic wormholes, and she has a Scandinavian advisor, played by Stellan Skarsgård, who just happens to be familiar with Norse mythology. What are the odds?

And so, in two long yet curiously abbreviated-seeming hours, Thor will learn consideration and (the right amount of) circumspection. He’ll just need to reclaim his supremely powerful, Excaliburesque hammer, by deserving it. His new mortal friends can help with that.

This comes to us from director Kenneth Branagh and a veritable pantheon of writers (none of which, it should be said, seems to have made any particularly godly contributions). Branagh always has seemed to strain himself when reaching down into the barrel of populism. Here he’s so busy counterpointing celestial, too-vaguely Shakesperean intrafamily feuds with earthbound fish-out-of-water folly that both elements wind up undercooked and the net effect is a sort of directorial insecurity.

Everywhere we look, it’s a mixed bag. Kat Dennings is utterly superfluous as Portman’s comic-relief sidekick, but Idris Elba is terrific as the stoic gatekeeper of the intergalactic wormholes. Thankfully Hemsworth, at least as plausible a Thor as Vincent D’Onofrio was in “Adventures in Babysitting,” eventually wins us over with his swaggering, just slightly campy Olde English pomposity.

“Thor” seems like an epitome of commercial filmmaking in that it’s less a film than a commercial: for its own sequel, for the “Avengers” movie next year, for the the many multiplatform entertainment properties on offer from the Marvel machine. Let’s call it a success, for isn’t it the first rule of franchise propagation to leave us wanting more?

X-Men Origins: Wolverine

April 29, 2009

wolverineimage

How did it all start for Wolverine? Which came first: the lumberjack years, or the shady government experiment gone awry? Just when, exactly, did he “become the animal,” to borrow one associate’s phrase, and how much by choice? Perhaps most importantly, under what thrilling circumstances was he first seen from above howling his grief into the sky, or walking away undisturbed from a slow-motion explosion?

These questions will be answered by X-Men Origins: Wolverine, the elaborate yet curiously dull back-story of Marvel Comics’ favorite razor-clawed mutant badass, while others will go unanswered because they seem so far to have gone unasked. For example: Is it possible that Wolverine and we have grown a little tired of each other?

It’s not impossible. On the big screen, we’ve had him for nine years, as embodied by Hugh Jackman with a winningly polished combination of brutality and vulnerability. And in the fairly comic-book obedient estimation of director Gavin Hood, with screenwriters David Benoiff and Skip Woods, he’s been with us much longer–at least since the 1840s, when a highly upsetting incident with his father catalyzed the young lad’s physical peculiarities and destined him for a long life of alienation. With a supernatural ability to heal from even the gravest of physical injuries, if not from psychic ones, he went on to become a veteran of all the major American wars, thereafter getting recruited into a black-ops unit whose criminal ethics he came to abhor. Also, he had love once, but lost it very painfully.

Although it does take some fan-feud-prompting liberties, the Wolverine script seems mostly checklist-like, constrained by obligations to present certain characters (Danny Houston as the dubious military man, Lynn Collins as the lover, Ryan Reynolds, Taylor Kitsch, Will.I.Am and others as the fellow mutants), or even objects. The priorities are strange. Sure, it matters how the man calling himself Logan came to call himself “Wolverine”–although, with the hair and the claws and all, that should be pretty obvious–but does it also matter how he acquired his leather jacket and motorcycle? Not if the answer is just that he got them from kind elderly farmers who took him in once, in some half-assed cribbing from the story of Superman. Only slightly more compelling is the surgical procedure by which his bones–including the claws, natch–were bonded with indestructible metal. This is important, because it will allow him later on to rip through helicopter blades and nuclear reactor smokestack walls and what have you. There will also be an inventively spectacular beheading.

But what’s supposed to matter most, we gather, is the lifelong struggle between Logan and his half-brother Victor Creed, who will become his nemesis Sabretooth and is played here by Liev Schreiber. “We’re brothers, and brothers look out for each other,” Victor tells Logan more than once, and their preferred method of fraternal caregiving generally consists of facing off in an alleys, lunging at each other in slow motion, and, when that inevitably results in stalemate, arguing about the proper application of their feral natures.

Maybe in another decade we’ll get a movie of them sitting on the porch watching each other’s mutton chops slowly go gray. Maybe then all the good questions finally will be asked and answered.

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