Cinema Hype

I had to wonder a little this weekend about the Best Picture nominee list in 1938. There must have been an intense historical epic in the running, right? A gut-wrenching war story? A too-long biopic? So how did a sweet little dramedy like You Can’t Take it With You end up with the golden statuette? Can you imagine if Juno had beaten out No Country for Old Men this last March? The 1938 ceremony must have been something like that.

You Can’t Take it With You is almost comical in its Capra-ness. This is right in the middle of his prime, after It Happened One Night and Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, and before Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Arsenic and Old Lace, and It’s a Wonderful Life, and it combines some of his favorite things: the common man, David and Goliath, the desperation of true love, the joy of community. It even takes place in a house that looks suspiciously like the Baileys’ in It’s a Wonderful Life, and stars Jimmy Stewart.

This is a movie that, in a sense, hasn’t aged all that well. Audiences—and especially Oscar voters—like to think they’ve grown over the years, and You Can’t Take it With You is a fantastically simple story. Whether or not films have grown more emotionally complex since 1938, Capra’s world feels out of pace and out of place, like sincerity has no place in our moviegoing world. On the other hand, well, it’s delightful. Spoiler alert: the good guys win and the bad guys become good guys, and Jimmy Stewart is adorable, and there’s amateur ballet and a harmonica duet and a healthy dose of (literal) fireworks. Capra takes this funny, noisy, lovable family out of their own living room and into the audience’s, din and all. And seeing them so close up, it’s hard not to smile a little at their scrapes and their can-do attitude and the way everything works out. We get their snappy dialogue and the carefulness of their characterization along with the general hilarity of being part of the family—it turns out that behind the fun, somebody knew what they were doing all along, such that the Sycamore-Vanderhof household is not only more fun than the suits they’re up against, but than their competitors in other movies as well. And that is an accomplishment: something to smile about in the Best Picture slot. Slick, Capra. Real slick.

Next on Project 501: Gone with the Wind (1939)

For more on the origins of Project 501, click here. For all Project 501 posts, click here.

You Can’t Take It With You, Moss Hart, Frank Capra, Jimmy Stewart, James Stewart, It’s a Wonderful Life, Oscar Best Picture winners, Best Picture, 1938, classic movies

NOTE: THIS POST CONTAINS MAJOR, SERIOUS, SURPRISE-RUINING-TYPE SPOILERS FOR INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL. CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED.

Let me get this out there: I really liked the new Indy movie. It was fast, it was fun, it was totally ridiculous in places, all of which I’ve come to expect from the Lucas-Spielberg-Ford triumvirate and their jaunty hat and whip. I especially liked the 20-minute jungle boat-car chase—you know, as you do—and the way that Shia LaBeouf managed to be kind of charming instead of head-smackingly obnoxious. Well played, all.

But I think we need to talk about the elephant in the room. Say what you will, focus on the sweet motorcycle chase or the “I have a bad feeling about this” moment, but eventually it’s going to come out: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is an alien movie. Lots of people seem to be avoiding the truth, but it’s there. Those are some seriously elongated heads and some seriously big eyes, people.

Now, to those still reeling, I’d like to offer some help. Some support for those still adjusting their schema, if you will. Here are three reasons we should not be surprised about the aliens:

1. Steven Spielberg. If anybody is obsessed with aliens in the movies, it’s this guy. Hello? Close Encounters of the Third Kind? E.T.? Twilight Zone: The Movie? Give this man an “I Want to Believe” poster and get it over with.

2. The scene inside the throne room or captains’ bridge or whatever you’d call it was very 21st century, what with all the melding and universal consciousness and CGI trickery. But the idea is sheer 1950s—recall the beginning of the movie, where nuclear testing, Cold War paranoia, and alien visitation is the name of the game. An older Indy places us smack in the middle of that scenario, and Lucas ran with it, to good effect, I think. If Raiders of the Lost Ark was a reference to the serials of the 1930s, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is a reaction to the post-Roswell world. Little green men are the logical choice, here.

3. Only something like this could get the X-Files fans in the audience suitably riled up before the big day of July 25. (Oh, come on. Don’t lie. You know you inserted Mulder into that scene, too. “Scullyyyyyyyyy!”)

See? It’s a tough process, but you’ll get there. Acceptance can be yours. Just go with it.

Indiana Jones, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, Raiders of the Lost Ark, X-Files, The X-Files, I Want to Believe, Fox Mulder, Steven Spielberg, aliens, alien movies

The Cinema Hype News Network (that would be CHNN) reports today that director Sydney Pollack has passed away at the age of 73. Pollack was one a heavy hitter for decades, directing his first film in 1965 (The Slender Thread) and making his final appearance onscreen in last month’s Made of Honor. In between, he made high-profile films with high-profile stars, was nominated for Academy Awards for They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? and Tootsie, and winning for Out of Africa. Pollack was known for being one of the first post-studio-system directors to forge the way for future generations, and for making movies that walked the fine line between art and commerce–although his relationship with critics was spotty, his movies were generally considered thoughtful, even as they tended to do well commercially. The film-going (and presumably film-making) community will miss him and his work deeply, though his influence will surely live on. R.I.P, Sydney.

Sydney Pollack

I get that it’s International Indiana Jones Week, and all, but it seems to me that everybody I know has the same song in their heads: not John Williams’s vine-swinging, triumphant Indy theme, but the hip-swinging, suggestive Sex and the City beat. (Oh, you’re singing it right now, aren’t you?) NBC just showed the series finale—so great!—and it looks like we’re all ready for just one more go with our favorite Ladies Who Brunch.

In the mean time, check out this awesome short film, written by Hanelle M. Culpepper, recommended by the fine folks at Cinematical and hosted by YouTube. I give you Six and the City:

The best thing is, they kind of sound like the Sex ladies, don’t they? Well played, all.

Sex and the City, SexandtheCity, Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, Samantha, YouTube, short film

I wonder whether, given the option, Walden Media would have skipped out on making Prince Caspian and gone straight to The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. After all, let’s face it: Prince Caspian is not the most exciting Narnia book.

I think the Walden folks knew that, either in their minds or somewhere deeper down, in their hearts of hearts, which is why this movie is the way it is. It’s not bad–not boring, not badly written, not badly acted–but it feels less confident somehow. There’s a sense of compensation, like the source material isn’t quite interesting enough, so let’s intervene and make it interesting. And I think we can all predict what happens when we try to muddle with C.S. Lewis (automatic lightning bolt, obviously).

So somebody, somewhere along the line, messed with the novel. There’s a little more battling and a little less of some other things—my favorite part, Lucy partying in the woods all night, gone completely!—and a Susan/Caspian vibe that doesn’t ring a bell for me, but which I may just have forgotten. And it seems a little naive and curmudgeonly to even bring it up—because I know that sometimes (usually), screenplays don’t spring fully-formed from source material—except that The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was such a true, straight adaptation that any fudging in Prince Caspian is pretty readily apparent.

And then there’s the modernization element, which may be even more troubling (especially if you’re totally geriatric, like me. Get off my lawn!). One of the best things about The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was how straight it played everything, how little it took part in the dumbing-down or growing-up of family movies. Prince Caspian has plenty of moments that are true to the spirit of Lewis’s storytelling style, but it also makes use of more modern dialogue, more one-liners, and a CGI warrior-mouse who gets uncomfortably close to Shrekliness. And there are plenty of fine, casually-spoken family films out there—there’s a place for Shrek, surely—but it seems like, as a part of a series, the sensibility is just a little un-Narnian.

It’s not all bad. Not by far. One of the joys of the Narnia movie franchise is the casting, which has borne itself out well in this second film. Unlike a certain other much-loved fantasy film series we might name, all of the Pevensie-kid actors seem to be approaching (and/or leaving) adolescence with great grace. Georgie Henley, of Lucy fame, continues to be adorable and supremely un-annoying, but it’s Skandar Keynes as Edmund and especially Anna Popplewell as Susan who really distinguish themselves—both carry off brave, prickly, complicated characters convincingly and with a minimum of self-consciousness. (Somehow High King Peter is the least interesting, but I don’t think it’s William Moseley’s fault. Peter’s golden from the core, which we all know is boooring.) The issue of Susan and Peter’s fast-approaching adulthood plays out really well; Anna Popplewell in particular has grown up gorgeous, and the vague but present sense that Susan is Hot gets kind of uncomfortable. It’s satisfying to see the film work that out and deal with it in a way that makes sense. Well played, all.

And then there’s the rest of it, the things that come out in the trailers: assassination plot, gathering of various Narnian creatures, battle. WETA Studios—of Lord of the Rings special-effects fame—outdo themselves with all the creatures tunneling, running, riding, and flying to battle. Second-fiddle book or no, there’s plenty of (totally bloodless) mayhem to go around, plenty of excitement. It’s a summer family film doing what summer family films do best, and for that it’s worth a look.

Narnia, Narnia movies, Prince Caspian, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, C.S. Lewis, CS Lewis, William Mosley, Anna Popplewell, Skandar Keynes, Georgie Henley, WETA Studios, summer movies, movie reviews

I’m not gonna lie: 2008 is looking like a banner year for summer movies. Whether you’re into explosions or brunch with the girlfriends (I personally like both), something should draw you to the theater before Labor Day. Just one question: where have all the original screenplays gone?

I can recite chronological release dates for three months’ worth of movies I can’t wait to see—and most of them are adaptations: Prince Caspian, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, Sex and the City, Get Smart, The Dark Knight, The Incredible Hulk, The X-Files: I Want to Believe, Mamma Mia!, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 (shut up, you). Even family films are getting in on the action, with Kit Kittredge: An American Girl (the inevitable foray of the American Girls empire into feature films) and City of Ember. Unless you’re Pixar or M. Night Shyamalan (whose new movie The Happening seems to be generating some excitement, despite the downward spiral of his last three projects), originality isn’t the name of the game.

This isn’t entirely true, of course. Reading between the lines of Coming Attractions shows that there are plenty of original (in the sense of not being adaptations, anyway) movies coming out, especially summer comedies in the vein of You Don’t Mess with the Zohan and The Love Guru. It’s just that the adaptations are what’s exciting this year. They’re what’s getting all the buzz, which leaves everything else—the unknown and unvetted—looking kind of crappy. And maybe they aren’t; maybe they’re just under-marketed. Maybe they’re great. But it’s hard to tell, which goes to show that summer audiences are a tough crowd. If I’m feeling lukewarm about the unfamiliar, maybe these movies need just a little extra boost, or just get out of the kitchen and wait until fall.

What do you think, readers? Are there any non-adaptation movies you’re looking forward to this summer?

Prince Caspian, Indiana Jones, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, Sex and the City, Get Smart, The Dark Knight, X-Files, X-Files: I Want to Believe, The Incredible Hulk, Mamma Mia!, Kit Kittredge: An American Girl, City of Ember, Pixar, Wall-E, WallE, M. Night Shyamalan, The Happening, Don’t Mess with the Zohan, The Love Guru, Love Guru, summer movies

I think I first knew I’d love Once when I watched the Oscars. “Falling Slowly” won for Best Song, and then there was that incident with Glen Hansard using all of Marketa Irglova’s talking time to give a wholly endearing victory speech, prompting Jon Stewart to let her come out and give her own adorable and inspirational remarks. I don’t have a ton of experience with low-budget Irish indie-music romantic dramas, but somehow this confluence of events—these people, rather—appealed to me.

Deep down, Once isn’t so far off the romance-movie track, complete with one especially improbably-lit scene involving a grand piano and an unfinished song. But then, if you can believe it, it’s also far simpler than most of what makes it to the theater: Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, girl likes boy, boy and girl record music together. Something like that. In fact, the straight-arrow plot is refreshing, considering the obvious and recitable formula we see in so many studio romances. Once lacks wacky friends, over-witty dialogue, and any kind of mid-wedding/pre-flight confrontation at the end—it turns that standard on its ear, actually—but instead, it has feeling and timing and a kind of quiet watchfulness that’s like a good, bittersweet folk song. (It’s also worth mentioning that this is a musical—not a massive dance-numbers-in-the-streets musical, but a story told through music. Be prepared.)

One of the best and most surprising parts of Once is how Hansard and Irglova—both professional musicians—wear the hat of “actor” so convincingly; neither comes across half as self-consciously as half the trained actors in Hollywood. If someone told me that Hansard—who looks, kind of hilariously, like a combination of Hugh Laurie and Dr. Cox from Scrubs—were the only lonely Irish musician in Dublin (or at least the loneliest Irish musician in Dublin), I’d probably believe it. Irglova sings and plays the piano beautifully, but even more importantly in this instance, she sparks. She’s the chemistry behind the movie; the light and warmth she brings to her onscreen relationship with Hansard isn’t far off from what she brings to their songs. This is a movie where the main characters don’t even have names (the credits call them “Boy” and “Girl”), but where character is built from the inside out and speaks without shouting, and the writing and acting mesh so that all the audience gets is ambience, in the best way.

Check out Once. You’ll get a song and a story stuck in your head, but you probably won’t mind too much.

Once, Glen Hansard, Marketa Irglova, The Frames, folk music, Dublin, Irish movies, Oscars, Best Song, Falling Slowly, Jon Stewart, Hugh Laurie, Scrubs

Well, this is weird. A biopic of George W. Bush? While he’s still in office? That’s got to be some kind of a first. I dearly hope we get some kind of (minor) media coverage here. Please tell me we’ll get MST3K from the White House screening room. (”Heheheheh…gonna watch a movie. About me. Heheheheh.” [/Jon Stewart])

I guess the first question I have here—of many, obviously—is…this is a drama, right? (Or do biopics necessarily divide into the traditional comedy-or-drama bins in the first place? Could this be Dubya: The Dramedy?) The pointedness of the release date, just before the general election and just in time to remind the nation of exactly what’s gone on during this Administration, suggests that it could go either way, depending on Oliver Stone’s level of rage. Want to warn people away from four more Republican years? Denounce President Bush with a strongly worded political drama. Want to vent a carefully tended head of steam and inspire the admittedly already-convinced liberal voting base? Let loose with a scathing satire, Thank You For Smoking-style, only with better jokes. Either way, there’s no shortage of material.

And let’s discuss this nutty all-star cast, shall we? We’ve got Josh Brolin—Josh, not James, mind you—as the man himself, which makes a weird kind of Texas-y sense, except that Josh Brolin is badass cowboy Texas and George W. Bush is Southern Gentleman-meets-Skull-and-Bones Texas. Brolin was born in 1972, which indicates that much of the movie might be pre-Presidency (speaking of Skull and Bones…); also, Elizabeth Banks will play Laura Bush, which seems like an apt choice, considering neither of them has left much of an impression on my consciousness at all. The rest of Bush’s cabinet seem well cast (though disproportionally British), with one particularly hilarious choice standing out from the crowd: Rob Corddry as Ari Fleischer? That’s genius, plain and simple. He’ll make the movie; mark my words.

The concept of a major Hollywood film hitting so close to the White House—in ways that feel so obviously politicized—carries with it, in my mind, a tiny twinge of wrongness, like there should be some kind of divide between Movies and State. Gross sense of national discontent or no, should Stone and Emperor, the company making the movie, interfere with the political process, especially for a profit? On the other hand, why shouldn’t they? Stripping moviemaking of its political clout and its potential as a personal vehicle for free speech—seems like the worst and most obvious kind of censorship, or at least like relegating films to some kind of cultural vacuum. And neither of those are good options, either. So I guess we’ll see what Stone comes up with: sharp, relevant critique (or, who knows? An enthusiastic pat on the back?), or two of the most tedious and hope-quenching theater hours of all time. As someone once said, History will tell.

W, W., George W. Bush, George W. Bush movie, Josh Brolin, biopic

I’ve been trying to hold off making too much fun of What Happens in Vegas…, which came in second at the box office this weekend. I mean, does it look terrible? It does. Am I soured on the “romantic” “comedy” genre in general? Sadly, yes (but no need to worry— romantic comedies, no quotes needed, will always be sweet to me). It seems to me that any movie that admits in the trailer that it’s a bastardization of an existing film doesn’t really deserve to be in the top five for any weekend, ever. This is the kind of movie that attracts my righteous bloggerly wrath for no other reason than because it’s there, waiting to be either mocked or eviscerated. Or both.

But I’ve been keeping it together for the kids. You know, the kids: Ashton and Cameron. First of all, I’m not sure when or how I went from despising Ashton Kutcher to secretly thinking he was kind of charming to openly hoping he might someday emerge from the Kutcher-Moore Batcave having finished puberty and become a full-fledged man-actor. He’s just so natural—happy-go-lucky, really—onscreen, like he just happens to be having wacky adventures, and oh, look, there’s a camera! Who knew?! So even though he’s been busy as husband/eerily young stepdad, I’m strangely happy to see him. Keep walking towards the light, Ashton!

And then there’s Cameron. I worry about her, you guys. I never know what to make of her—was Being John Malkovich some kind of massive fluke, or is she hiding some kind of Meryl Streepian greatness underneath that extremely tanned exterior?—but I look at what Meg Ryan seems to have been through in the past half-decade or so and I hope that she’s not headed in the same depressing, identity-addled direction. Because what will happen to the universe if Cameron Diaz can’t give us that huge grin and shake her booty and make everything better? It’s not that particle collider in Switzerland that’s going to suck the galaxy down into its depths and obliterate us all; it’s the day that Cameron Diaz begins to age out of her usual roles. Mark my words. And I just want everything to be okay, you know?

On the other hand, MAN. That looks terrible.

What Happens in Vegas…, Ashton Kutcher, Cameron Diaz, Meg Ryan, Meryl Streep, Being John Malkovich

All right, I’ll admit it. If the monthlong gap between Project 501 posts hasn’t been enough of a tip-off, you should know: I’ve been putting off The Life of Emile Zola. In the long parade of Best Picture winners, French writers’ biopics are like the local-business floats: you know they’re coming, but you’re not really all that excited about them. Luckily for me—and I really should learn this lesson someday—Zola easily surpassed my expectations. This is no insurance company banner. We’re talking high-school drill team, at least.

The most striking thing about Zola is how relevant it is, even—or especially—today; it’s full of dialogue that could easily come straight from current American news footage. Public discourse on the acceptability of torture? Deep animosity between a shady government and an inconveniently nosy press corps? A military bent on denying responsibility, headed by a leader blinded by his own personal authority? Any of this sounding familiar?

As a biopic, Zola isn’t all that complete or all that effective: aside from his ascent from starving writer to national voice and his touching friendship with his artsy roommate, some guy called Paul Cezanne, director William Dieterle glosses over Zola’s personal life. As a courtroom drama, however, it’s pretty fantastic: the retelling of the Dreyfus affair, in which Zola purposefully had himself arrested and tried in order to clear the name of a Jewish soldier wrongly exiled, is far more interesting than anything going on in the Zola household. The coverage of Zola’s trial is long and loving, complete with plenty of corrupt and politicized judicial action, some truly hilarious judges’ uniforms, and an appropriately satisfying final speech by Zola (Paul Muni) himself. The crowd in the courtroom is rowdy, hooting and hollering and crying out when anything happens, but they’re a great representative of the real-life audience: this is dramatic and emotional, the kind of thing that deserves the attention and the buy-in of the people. Even considering the few cheesy touches Dieterie works in (personal favorite: the camera panning from Zola’s face to an enormous painting of the crucifixion of Jesus), the movie is enough of an emotional force that it works.

Good on you, 1937 Academy voters.

Next up: You Can’t Take it With You (1938)! For more on Project 501, click here; to read past Project 501 posts, click here.

The Life of Emile Zola, Project 501, Best Picture winners, Oscar winners, You Can’t Take It With You

Cinema Hype: Thanks for coming in to speak with us today. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about Speed Racer?

Andy Wachowski: Car chases. I loooooove car chases. On the racetrack, off the racetrack, burning rubber, twisted met—

Larry Wachowski: Inner strength. Courage. Family. Self-esteem. In remaking Speed Racer for a new generation, we wanted to foster the kinds of positive forces that teach young people how to be strong on the inside and loving towards their fellow human beings. We believe we’ve made a film that exemplifies all of those things.

CH: Yes, you’ve made Speed Racer into a family film. What was it like making a film aimed at young people, after the extravagant violence of the Matrix movies and some of your other work?

AW: BOOOORI—

LW: Well, it was just such an honor to create something to inspire and encourage young minds, you know? Andy and I believe that the racetrack in the film represents life and the desire to accelerate and experience as much as possible in the short time that we have. Don’t we, Andy?

AW: Yeah, Larry’s right, life is like a racetrack. And sometimes you make it to the finish line all in one piece, but sometimes you end up rolled over along the rail somewhere with your wheels up in the air, and sparks are all flying out behind you, like—you know—errrrrr! And you’re hanging from your harness and you wonder whether that was the car making that crinkling sound, or if it was your—

LH: Andy. [Under his breath] We talked about this.

AW: Sorry.

CH: …Now, who do you consider your greatest influences?

AW: Oh, you know. Steve McQueen, Bullitt, Gone in Sixty Seconds, Smokey and the Bandit, The Fast and the Furious…

LW: He means William Gibson, Ghost in the Shell, Robotech, and Simulacra and Simulation. RIGHT?

AW: Right. That Gibson guy.

CH: I…I see. Now, with that in mind, what would you say is the main point—the thesis, if you will—of Speed Racer?

LW: Love.

AW: Love. And car crashes.

LW: …and car crashes.

Speed Racer comes out today, May 9, 2008.

(This is a work of fiction; I do not know and have not met the Wachowski brothers.)

Speed Racer, The Wachowski Brothers, Larry Wachowski, Andy Wachowski, The Matrix

So, here’s the thing: I love The Office. And along with everyone else, I love Dwight Schrute, weapon-hiding, beet-farming, Battlestar Galactica-and/or-bears-loving doof that he is. I mean, tell me: Did Dwight or did Dwight not steal the show last week, what with his “Five! Four! Three! Two! One! It’s gotta be now! Do it now! Do it! Do it! Do it!” trick? (Note: Remind me to try this technique in meetings at work from now on. I will rule the world in six months or less, or Dwight’s middle name isn’t Kurt.)

Anyway, I love Dwight, and I appreciate Rainn Wilson’s commitment to acting like a complete nutjob, but the trailer for The Rocker begs one pretty important question: Can Wilson carry a feature film?

We’ve seen him around before; he sneaks into the first few minutes of Juno, and then there was that movie last year with the kids and the aliens—you know what I mean?—but somehow holding that one against him seems downright cruel. Other than that he’s got a slew of TV guest-star stints (including a half-season of Six Feet Under), and….yeah. I’m trying not to have so many doubts, but it’s not working.

Maybe the problem is Dwight, the very outlandishness of him—maybe we can’t get beyond the aviator glasses and the tie with the short sleeves. Maybe it’s Wilson himself. Maybe his screen presence is too much; maybe he can’t contain the weird. It’s the kind of thing that’s either a great benefit (like when there’s a character like Dwight hanging around) or an ultimate career-killer (like when there are only characters like Dwight hanging around). Maybe he’s just too self-conscious onscreen to pull it off. Or maybe he’ll surprise me and blow us all out of the water. Maybe it’s just me. It’s hard to say.

Readers, what do you think?

(Also: Jason Sudeikis at a theater near me! Don’t ever leave me, Floydster.)

Rainn Wilson, The Rocker, Jason Sudeikis, The Last Mimzy, Juno, Battlestar Galactica, The Office

This just in: If your superhero movie does well, plan for sequels. (Who knew, right?) After a $99 million opening weekend for Iron Man, Marvel Studios has announced the greenlighting of Iron Man 2, set for release in 2010, in addition to Thor (as in, “by the hammer of”; how very Liz Lemon!) the same summer and both The Avengers and Captain America for 2011.

Surprise! Except…not. The bonus scene after the credits for Iron Man features Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury, leader of the Avengers, so it’s not like some studio exec just woke up this Monday morning with a yen for many, many sequels. In fact, the comic-book version of Ultimate Nick Fury (as opposed to just plain Nick Fury; it’s complicated) is intentionally modeled after, and looks just like, Samuel L. Jackson. How weird! How meta! How…obviously intended for film adaptation!

This kind of thing is, though, the very reason that I—in spite of/because of my complete ignorance about comic books—appreciate Marvel Studios and their attempt to seize their characters from the jaws of unaffiliated filmmakers. Adapting work they already own (and, ostensibly, respect) gives them the freedom to be as good and as accurate as they want to be, and even better, to build their movies as they have their comic books: as a continuous and self-referential universe. Continuity, the feeling that the events of a story matter somewhere outside of that story, win big points with me personally and doesn’t seem to hurt in terms of building a fan base, either. So although I have no nostalgia for Iron Man or any other Marvel character, I am wholly enthusiastic about getting to know their universe. Well played, Marvel Studios.

Iron Man, Ironman, Thor, Captain America, Nick Fury, Ultimate Nick Fury, Samuel L. Jackson, Marvel Comics, Marvel Universe, Iron Man 2

It seems to me that May 2 was a perfect, and perfectly metaphorical, release date for Iron Man. Aside from rescuing us all from the movie wasteland that was spring of 2008 (and thank goodness for that), this is a movie that’s trying to have things both ways: character and action, exposition and explosions, hero’s journey and summer blockbuster. Maybe, in the end, the movie can’t have it all, but it sure makes a good effort.

If anything, the movie errs a little on the side of seriousness: the first half of the film is almost pure plot and character, with surprisingly little of the flying and shooting we’ve come to expect. Director Jon Favreau starts things off with a bang, literally (to stave off Ang Lee Hulk-itis), and then hits the brakes, cutting back in time to introduce the audience to Robert Downey Jr. as our hero, Tony Stark. It’s not boring—electromagnet in the heart, terrorists, some fancy work with an iron forge, etc.—but there’s a lot of set-up; Iron Man as we come to know him doesn’t even appear until somewhere around the halfway point. It’s a risky move, exposing us to all that careful narration and character development (!), but it works because Favreau knows what he has in Downey: a stellar alter ego. Tony Stark is the kind of role Downey was born to play, and has played so well in so many movies over the years. He’s snarky and mildly tortured, with a heart of (electromagnetized) gold beating underneath, and just watching him and his pitch-perfect line delivery makes the delayed gratification of the Iron Man suit totally worth it. And after that halfway turning point, well, all bets are off: let the clanking, zooming shoot-em-up begin!

It’s not just the Iron Man movie that’s straddling a few fences. Iron Man himself is a bit of an amalgam of some of his more famous super-buddies, combining Batman’s wealthy-playboy alter ego and reliance on a suit (i.e. no actual super-powers) with Spider-Man’s philosophy regarding great power and great responsibility. The latter is, in fact, the backbone of the movie—Iron Man has always been political (he started out as an anti-Communist superhero in 1963) and he’s now been brought into the 21st century, specifically post-9/11 Afghanistan. In the end, Tony Stark is the kind of guy we all wish were really behind the U.S. weapons trade: a patriot with a passion for truth and transparency, somebody who embraces both the perks and the ultimate weight of his position. The movie does an interesting job of combining the comics’ tradition of patriotism with the postmodern Hollywood tendency towards pacifism (except, of course, where urban action scenes are concerned).

Iron Man is only one of several comic-book movies in the last decade to attempt something deeper than pure escapist entertainment (see Batman Begins), but it’s certainly a role model for future adaptations, especially if audiences get used to a certain level of sophistication. And, well, it really is a little bit of rocket science.

Iron Man, Iron Man reviews, Ironman, Robert Downey Jr., Jon Favreau, comic books, comic book movies, Marvel Comics, Marvel Universe