Tag Archives: Super Hero

Wonder Woman

3 Jun

The beleaguered “Justice League” franchise, barely off the ground with the turgid “Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice” beatdown last summer, gets a much-needed shot in the arm from the feminine side side of the tracks. Fans can breathe a sigh of relief with the release of “Wonder Woman,” which proves far sharper and more fun than any of its DC predecessors. The big question will be whether a woman win over the fanboys who – if we use box office as an indicator – like their super beginnings beefy, cut and baritone.

A peek into the Magic 8 Ball says yes.

The film may be long for what it is (nearly two and a half hours) but it’s also lithe and imbued with deft nuggets of humor, and it keeps moving. The opening scene, in which we meet Wonder Woman/Diana Prince (Gal Gadot) in the present, proves to be a Justice League tie-in. It’s an odd, disjointed bit, but we don’t linger before getting whisked back to a young Diana on the island of Themyscira, which for all intents and purposes is the DC reimagining of the Isle of Lesbos as it’s occupied solely by female Amazon warriors led by Queen Hippolyta (Connie Nelson) and General Antiope (Robin Wright). Besides being beguiled by Nelson and Wright, who speak with a weird accent and have fine, sculpted physiques that folks half their age would be lucky to have, we get mumbo jumbo about the rivalry between Zeus and Ares and the circumstances that produced Diana – the only child born on an island void of men. (A page from Amazon literature informs us they’re good for reproduction, but not pleasure.) Continue reading

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Doctor Strange

6 Nov

What is it about superhero movies that takes top-shelf thespians and reduces them to two-dimensional ashes? Patrick Stewart was able to maintain his poise in “X-Men,” and Robert Downey Jr. formed an amiably snarky extension of himself as brash billionaire Tony Stark in “Iron Man,” but mostly actors slap on the muscle suit and spout platitudes. Don’t get me wrong – I love seeing Chris Evans square-jawed and righteous as Captain America, but what’s he like first thing in the morning? Is he a grump, does he loosen up after two beers, and does he ever have a bad hair day? Answers mortals need if they’re to relate.

110216i-doctor-strangeFor all their power and pop, these tales of the übermensch are pretty pat affairs; backstory and arch-villain, that’s how they go, a two-step do-si-do. “Doctor Strange,” sadly, is no exception, despite the more cerebral and human orientation of its protagonist and the inspired casting of Sherlock Holmes himself, Benedict Cumberbatch, as the doctor. It’s not for Cumberbatch’s lack of effort, but anytime you have a team of writers – three, in this case – tying to communally distill the tortured essence of an uber-being grappling with a newly acquired superpower, loss of former self and world annihilation by some unhinged megalomaniac with his hand on the button and a battalion of minions on call, you’re in a dark place. And we’re not talking about inner conflict.

The film begins promisingly enough, with Cumberbatch’s Dr. Stephen Strange showing off his cutting-edge skill as a neurosurgeon – grandiloquently so. He’s an arrogant can-do with a god complex, and would either bond immediately with Downey’s Tony Stark at a cocktail reception or get locked in a nasty head-to-head vying for the alpha male spot. Everything’s hunky-dory – there’s even playful banter and a spark of romance with the fetching, overworked ER doc (Rachel McAdams) – until Strange’s Lamborghini goes off the road, the result of distracted driving (looking at cranial scans while bobbing and weaving at 100 mph). In the crash, the doc’s life-saving hands are shattered, recovery is frustratingly slow and no procedure, no matter how experimental, can get him back to his scalpel jockey self. Broke and broken, Strange heads off to Kathmandu after hearing of a mystic cult where the mind heals the body. Continue reading

Suicide Squad

8 Aug

There’s a drought across the land, and I’m not talking about the arid state of farming or sweeping brush fires, but the strangled flow of quality films on their way into theaters. We’ve already suffered through“Batman v Superman,” and Matt Damon, while jacked up for “Jason Bourne,” was hogtied by an inert script. Now here comes “Suicide Squad,” another DC Comics entry (think Superman and Batman), looking to take a bite out of the Marvel pie (think Captain America and The Avengers). Hyped as a quirky anti-superhero flick, the project showed great promise during incubation; now, in realization, it’s a busy, bombastic bounce that bites off more than director David Ayer can chew.

080616i Suicide SquadIf you’re not familiar with Ayer, he’s a guy’s guy, the testosterone-probing hand behind such brooding character studies as “Harsh Times” and “Fury.” He doubles down here, tackling script-writing duties as well, and in that you’d think he’d own the material and put his stamp on it. But what becomes clear in the first few frames, as we get a seemingly ceaseless recap of the potpourri of criminal personas that will become the Squad, is that Ayer’s not a very nimble multi-tasker. We’re left down deep in the liftoff-weeds water when there should be action, heroics and a sardonic edge – i.e., plot and forward motion.

Continue reading

Captain America: Civil War

6 May

The good news about the latest Marvel project to land on the screen is that it’s livelier and more entertaining than the other “Avenger” offerings – even if this one technically waves the “Captain America” banner. “Captain America: Civil War” is a follow-up to the last Cap adventure, “The Winter Soldier,” with Cap’s troubled old pal and fellow modified, Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan) at the heart of the drama again. If you don’t recall, Bucky’s a Manchurian candidate of sorts, a brainwashed mercenary with a bionic arm who’s just as nails-tough and superhuman as Cap. In short, he’s lethal, and because his brain’s been scrambled and put back, he’s a sleeper cell who’s been in the hands of wrong-minded parties.

050516i Captain America- Civil WarThis has ramifications across the Avengers’ alliance. Bucky’s been underground since Cap put him down, but shadowy images show Bucky pulling off an assassination in Africa and there’s something about a 1991 incident for which we keep going back to video footage and getting new insight what happened and how the pebbles of one cold act ripple through time.

In the now, those ripples have become waves that put the square and righteous Captain America (Sudbury’s Chris Evans) at odds with old steel claptrap, aka Iron Man/Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.), first over an accord that seeks to limit the Avengers’ doings because too much collateral damage has befallen the world (a diverted bomb blowing up a building full of innocents, for instance) and later because of darker reasons tied to that mysterious 1991 incident.

When Stark and Cap square off, the teams line up for a street rumble of sorts. You could think of it as the Sharks vs. the Jets. It’s more chest pounding and posturing, and while there’s no Hulk or Thor in the mix, Spider-Man (Tom Holland) and Ant-Man (Paul Rudd), newly drafted, steal the show with wide-eyed naiveté and mini-man maxims. it’s a delicious add to the regular bang-boom-pow auto cycle. Many of the usual suspects, such as Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen), and other additions, such as Black Panther (Chadwick Boseman), fall into the background; Vision (Paul Bettany) like the similar-colored and suited Spider-Kid, gets some of the best dialogue, especially cooking a meal for the Scarlet Witch to ease her anxieties – the kicker being that he has no idea what paprika or food tastes like, as he’s never eaten. Continue reading

Batman v Superman: the Dawn of Justice

25 Mar

Who knew Gotham and Metropolis were right across the bay from each other? Sort of like St. Louis and Kansas City, but each with their own superhero in the middle of a massive PR crisis. Over in Gotham, Batman’s been tagged as an unchecked vigilante; Superman has his own Senate committee to review his activities, newly minted as a reckless god because of the hundreds of innocents crushed in the streets as collateral damage from taking out General Zod as the two Kryptonians blasted each other through one skyscraping façade after the next in 2013’s “Man of Steel.” The scene evokes uncomfortably eerie images of 9/11. One such building laid to waste happens to be the Wayne Tower, workplace of many close associates of Batman alter ego Bruce Wayne – a catalyst for the titular grudge match of “Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice.”

032416i Batman v Superman- Dawn of JusticeZack Snyder, the hyperkinetic visual stylist who’s crafted such over-the-top spectacles as “300” and “Sucker Punch” but also demonstrated nuanced restraint with the highly underappreciated “Watchmen,” winds up in no man’s land with epic aspirations as he grandiloquently pits the two classic comic book giants against each other.

When it comes to screen time, or quality of screen time, Batman wins the battle hands down. Early on we flash back to a young Bruce Wayne losing his parents in an alleyway just after seeing a showing of “Excalibur.” The scene’s been done several times over (by Tim Burton and Christopher Nolan, recently) besides the choice of movie, and if Snyder’s going to go that far he should have taken a cue from that film and its masterful director, John Boorman, that movies, even those fueled by fantasy and beings beyond man, are driven by character development and plot integrity. Cool stunts and grandiose FX surely wow and awe, but they’re like a giant bag of M&Ms: Eventually it all just becomes mush.

Cambridge’s own Ben Affleck, an inherently stiff performer, slips into Bruce Wayne’s tux and Batman’s cowl with convincing ease. Henry Cavill, on the other hand, a perfect human specimen in his own right, is grounded by tedious perfection. Sure he gets to zip around and level malevolents as Superman, but there’s no edge to it, and when in civilian duds as Clark Kent, he spends most of his time cuddling up to Lois Lane (Amy Adams), a woman of intrepid integrity and carnal knowledge. There’s not much fire there either, but occasionally, when challenged on topics by his editor at the Daily Planet (his boss wants more on the last football game between Metropolis and Gotham than the recent crime wave Clark’s interested in) he stands up for journalistic integrity. Perhaps this Clark should have been in “Spotlight” – it’s the most alive the ubermensch hiding inside a nerd’s skin becomes. The tortured soul whose bitterness endears belongs to The Bat and his alter-ego, further blessed with a snarky but sincere rendition of Alfred the butler by Jeremy Irons, surely far more fun at a party than Ms. Lane.  Continue reading

Deadpool

13 Feb

“Deadpool” sets its acerbic, deconstructive, fourth-wall-breaking tone right off the bat. The camera pulls out slowly on some contorted guy frozen in mid-tumble in the passenger seat of an SUV, a burn imprint on his head from the car’s cigarette lighter; there’s a random “People” magazine cover floating nearby featuring the “Sexiest Man Alive” (Ryan Reynolds, who plays the facially disfigured hero of the title); another baddie’s getting a wedgie from the merry red-suited hero; and a random wallet shows a flashcard from “Green Lantern,” (2011) Reynolds’ poorly received other superhero project – and during all this we get the canny credits that approximate “Starring some British actor as the villain,” “with a computer generated creature,” “Directed by a Hollywood Hack” and “Produced by Asshats.”

021216i DeadpoolSomber and serious like “X-Men” this is not, and that’s where “Deadpool” draws its energy, with high quirk and black comedy as endless graphic dismemberings and gorings fill the screen. It’s what another Marvel offering, “Guardians of the Galaxy,” did so effortlessly throughout, but this is to such a gonzo degree that it has Deadpool in mid-sword fight talking casually to the audience to elaborate on his social views and past, even while taking a bullet or two for his trouble. But don’t worry; he regenerates like Wolverine, though not quite as fast. The wicked wit, so good and so rich early on, also happens to be the Achilles heel of “Deadpool,” as such a nosebleed level of hyperbole and genre-skewering becomes impossible to sustain.

In small slices we get Deadpool’s backstory: He’s a former Special Forces guy named Wade who becomes an enforcer for hire, doing your dirty deeds for the right price. He falls for a saucy goth pixie (the very lovely Morena Baccarin) who works at the local ruffian waterhole. One thing leads to another and through unhappy happenstance Wade becomes injected with a mutant serum – thus the Jabba the Hutt pizza face and ability to regenerate. Some of this, sans Wade and his gal’s very kinky sex life – replete with a strap-on scene to make you wince – runs fairly flat, though Reynolds, blessed with a snarky crack comic wit branded back in his “Van Wilder” days, holds the pedantic backstory aloft. The introduction of mutants from Dr. Xavier’s X-Men school, a titanium hulk called Colossus (voiced by Stefan Kapicic) and a punked-out adolescent by the monicker Negasonic Teenage Warhead (Brianna Hildebrand) elevates things. They’re looking to politely corral Deadpool into the ranks of the X-Men, but their do-good mantra doesn’t sit well with his mission to exact revenge against those who mutantized him.

Ultimately, and unfortunately despite all good intentions, “Deadpool” saddles up and rides the rote genre arc. The situational gags never let up, though; Deadpool’s skewing of Negasonic as an angry Sinead O’Connor, the “127 Hours” crack as he lops off a shackled hand and the ensuing masturbation jokes about the infant-sized regenerating appendage, plus his rooming with a blind black woman who likes to assemble Ikea furniture and harbors a hankering for blow, are riotously worthy and wicked, not to mention that the stunt choreography, set designs and FX integration are masterful and seamless. Like its hero, however, “Deadpool” the movie is something of a mutant hybrid: part high production, part sophomoric slapstick, part witty revisionist reengineering, but also totally boilerplate. It’s a tangy olio that lacks substance and consistency, and despite that, its in-your-face moxie comes at you in all the right ways, gripping you by the gunny sack with a big glorious joker smile and never letting go.