Man of Steel, Superhero Cinema, The Fun Police, and the War on Hope

"Your girl sent you to Glamour Shots too?"

I liked The Dark Knight, and I'm pretty sure that's only because I loved Heath Ledger's Joker.

The Joker was a livewire who brought more life  to The Dark Knight with his batshit rumblings than any other character or plot development. He was the clown prince made "real"in a way that never betrayed the characters roots as a four-color creation. He made The Dark Knight far more entertaining than any other entry in the trilogy.

In fact, The Dark Knight is the only entry in the Dark Knight trilogy that I own. Not that the other entries aren't thoughtful, exquisitely crafted films; it's just that they're a tad...boring. They're so adult, so cerebral, so overpopulated with pontification, so crippled by an attachment to "reality" that it makes the more fantastic elements seem silly and the narrative shortcuts glaringly obvious. Worst of all, they elevate plot so high over character that the driving force behind these narratives--the iconic characters and their specific characterizations--get lost in the shuffle.

Case in point: Man of Steel.

Man of Steel is, despite some crucial chaos in the climax, a perfect example of a similar type of 

experience because it spends about fifty percent of its runtime on long shots and speechifying from Supermans multiple fathers designed to convince the Superman and the audience that he is destined to be Space Jesus. the whole destiny angle robs Supes of a lot of agency and pushes the "Supes-as-an-outsider" angle to the forefront. While this would likely be a prominent conflict to young Kal-el, it is not the most uplifting or aspirational or entertaining conflict for Superman to deal with. It is so internal and hard to visualize that it makes Superman appear more mopey than he is.

Then, as if to reward viewers for sitting through a dour hour, director Zack Snyder and company send Supes out to play Dragonball Z with a bunch of bad guys on the streets of Smallville and Metropolis. Hundreds, thousands, probably millions of innocent lives are lost, and Superman only seems to care about six people: a random family of four, Ma Kent, and of course, Lois Lane. Poke around the net and you'll see that this is a major source of consternation to fans, critics and creators, especially the folks at Badass Digest and Superman Birthright writer and modern comic writing legend Mark Waid. 

"Yes, that's a building coming at you. No, this isn't Transformers."

I can't blame them for being concerned. I'm no purist, but I know that Superman always goes out of his way to save lives and -- SPOILER ALERT -- he does his best to avoid killing.

Most importantly, he smiles. He's not as funny and quick as Spidey or as snarky as Shellhead or as exasperated as the Thing--no, the Marvel heroes don't take themselves that seriously that's just the sourpusses at DC, Flash excluded.

"Dude, you can fly. Lighten up."

But, in Zack Snyder, David Goyer, and Christopher Nolan's Man of Steel, Supes comes off as glum, reckless, and slightly vengeful mostly for the sake of the narrative they want to tell. And that is their right, but I wonder if maybe movies like the Avengers, which isn't that much better in mitigating casualties, can't open film makers eyes to a different way to approach the comic book narrative. One in which character comes first and reality is left behind.

Superhero movies are based on source material that is so inherently fantastic that it requires a suspension of disbelief on par with the suspension of disbelief applied to pro wrestling. Short of abandoning all pretense of super heroics and daring-do, there's no way filmmakers can make superhero flicks that aren't fantastic to the point of silliness, so they may as well embrace the amazing, the spectacular, and the uncanny. 

There's little to no chance of grounding something like this in reality, so why try?

Seriously, despite Nolan's best interests with the Dark Knight series, the fact that Bruce Wayne dressed up like a bat rather than dressing like the Punisher shows that there was no way to avoid a very silly conceit and still have the series be considered a Batman adaptation. Ditto for the story of alien space Jesus who can hurl mountains or the man in roboarmor or the green super-Jekyll or the kid in the spider outfit.

I'll never forget how the first Arkham video game, despite its occasionally brutality and grotesque "grim and gritty"-ness, was such a welcome counterpoint to the Nolanverse. While Nolan's approach to the Batman legend is as welcome as any interpretation, Rocksteady's Arkham games did such an excellent job of melding the fantastic and the "real" that I couldn't help but prefer them over the Dark Knight films, mostly because the developers at Rocksteady were limited only by their imaginations, the limits of the technology, and the DC Comics vanguard. 

Rocksteady acknowledged the fantastical properties of Batman's world and embraced it. They recognized the importance of the characterization of the cast, granted Batman will always be a stick in the mud, but that's his way, and emphasized those outsized qualities when creating solidly entertaining  characters. Rocksteady's vision may not be perfect--a little less misogyny would be nice--but it is a great example to creators of all stripes, particularly filmmakers on the next swath of superhero flicks.

Grounding this in reality is only slightly easier, but not by much.

To the filmmakers who are working on or will work on superhero flicks, I encourage them to embrace the silliness. Embrace the fun. And let the heroes have some fun to. Let them smile, like Christopher Reeve did. Let them snark like Tony or sling jokes as fast as webs like Spidey. Let them banter like the Avengers. Let them be more than soapboxes with dish towels around their necks.  Let their words flow forth like humans not philosophy treatises. Let their burdens be based on the struggle to do the right thing when it seems like their bodies or minds or spirits wont let them. Let them be human, like us, so their moments of sacrifice mean so much more to us.

Superheroes are great as aspirational figures, but if they lose the fun and the humanity then they will lose the audience. These are fantastic myths, plain and simple. They are metaphors for reality. They are not reality. They are stories that allow the storytellers to show humanity how great it can be, even if it uses crazy tropes like mad scientists, giant robots, aliens, and super soldiers to do it.

On that note, there's something else that gets lost in the translation from the four color realm to the silver screen: these are tales of heroism. They should be treated as such. 

I realize spectacle and bombast are par for the course in event movies these days, but at some point all parties involved, from the studios to the filmmakers to the audience have to really take a look at what these flicks are saying. We have to examine how close they hew to the aspirational and, yes, instructive nature of superhero fiction. These stories will last, and hopefully not always as corporate properties ( one can dream), and will exist as narratives that will show future generations how to rise above their limits and be better people. 

That said, can we cool it on the massive loss of life in these movies, or at least deal with it thoughtfully and responsibly. Yes, it may drag the fun down and shift the tone dramatically for more than a few moments, but having heroes stop punching and start protecting, or having them mourn the loss of people they will never know, will show that these heroes are compassionate, a key quality of a hero, and better than their enemies.

Now, this may be a hard road to travel for filmmakers as the very nature of filmmaking requires spectacle, bombast, and resolution, especially the modern blockbuster. But, the destruction in these flicks has to be tempered with the idea that superheroes are metaphors for virtues like selflessness and sacrifice. Those virtues are hard to see when superheroes are causing so much collateral damage that the body counts are as high as lottery pots.

"See, nothing wrong with a smile, as long as you're cool about it"

These heroes and their stories, however they are told, are some of the few weapons we have against cynicism and selfishness. They are some of our last weapons in the war against hope that the world keeps losing day by day. Don't let them fade away.

SPOILERS: Reboot, Soft Reboot: How Skyfall and James Bond do reboots right

"Ah, Britannia, never change...or should you?"

This shouldn't be news, but the Bond franchise has been doing reboots right for 50 years. The travesty is that most movie studios don't adhere to their basic "monkey see, monkey-do" nature and follow the lead of one of the most successful film franchises in history. With billions in box office receipts, the Bond franchise is clearly doing something right in maintaining its franchise. Meanwhile, the studios, particularly those in charge of comic properties like Spider-Man and Superman, are rebooting franchises to diminishing returns (adjusted for inflation, yes, but still diminishing).

With Skyfall, the Bond franchise nearly perfects the soft reboot. Rather than reinventing the wheel from scratch and tossing it at audiences, Skyfall organically, thoughtfully introduces a new era to the Bond franchise while honoring the staid legacy of the series. Without revealing too much, the denouement of Skyfall reinvigorates Bond's supporting cast and gives the Crown's top agent renewed focus as he darts forth into an age of espionage that is far muddier than it has ever been. Skyfall effectively and ably does for the Bond franchise what Amazing Spider-Man and Superman Returns should have done for their respective franchises. It makes the old new again without sacrificing the craft in its storytelling, much of which is due to Sam Mendes' able direction and a plot that is, thankfully, less byzantine than Quantum of Solace.

Interestingly, Skyfall apes the structure of the sequel to one of the most successful reboots in years, Nolan's The Dark Knight--confirmed explicitly by director Sam Mendes--to create an entry that is  highly effective as a point of entry for new and old audiences alike. Skyfall succeeds as much because of its easy-to-follow plot as the amazing villian at its core. Bond 23 is built around Javier Bardem's Silva, who is every inch the anti-Bond, and his vendetta against M, a point that was broached with 006 in Goldeneye. Silva is effete and desperately opposed to physical activity, yet he is cunning and seemingly ten steps ahead of Bond, M (the ever reliable Judi Dench), the audience, and much like Heath Ledger's Joker, the plot. Just as the Joker was a walking plot monkey wrench that sent the franchise into the stratosphere, Silva is one of the key draws in an entry that has already broke box office records around the world by sticking to the basics, both in terms of story and mythos, and easing the audience into transition rather than foisting it upon them.

Transition is a cornerstone of the Bond franchise, and it is one that has been ably managed by the Broccoli family to mostly positive effect. To date there have been six actors to play the role, and rarely, if ever, has the revolving casting door ever prevented the audience from connecting with the character. Sure, there's some occasional grumbling from the outliers when anybody who isn't Sean Connery takes the role--especially poor Daniel Craig, who was apparently too thuggish and blond to receive 00 status--but generally most of the audience rolls with the punch and accepts the Bond of the moment. Contrast the generally positive public response to the changing face of Bond with the outcry from critics and fans about the new Spider-Man/Peter Parker, Andrew Garfield. Many critics felt he was too smarky and harsh to embody Peter Parker's earnest everyman qualities, while others were convinced his aggressive geekiness would sink the franchise. It didn't, but the fact that Sony made kind of a big deal about a new Spider-Man may have had a lot to do with those responses. Conversely, nobody is complaining about the Bond franchise being derailed after Daniel Craig took the mantle. In fact, most have applauded the change in direction.  It is a testament to the Bond series, and its producers, willingness to move forward without making a ridiculous amount of hubub.  Instead, the Broccolis keep calm and carry on, as does the series. As a result, the James Bond of Casino Royale, Quantum of Solace, and Skyfall is your father's Bond, yet he is not, and few moviegoers have a problem with it.

SPOILER ALERT

Skyfall capitalizes on this ever-forward movement by installing new faces in old roles with amazing finese. Most folks know that there is a new Q this time around, but Mendes manages to introduce a new M and Moneypenny, not to mention an arch-villian, in a way that personally and profoundly connects them to Bond and the mythology of the series. Essentially, Skyfall becomes an origin story, albeit the origin of an era rather than a character, plopped right into the middle of a franchise. What's inherently brilliant about this new origin story is that it was unadvertised. There are faint clues that most smart viewers will pick up on early, but truthfully, there is very little made of the transition. It happens, and we are invested because we experience the transition rather than being told to simply accept the new status quo. There's also a reverence in Skyfall that acknowledges the past as it transitions to the future, complete with pretty on-the-nose nods like the return of the DB5 Aston Martin and a pit of komodo dragons. Yet, Mendes does not harp on this reverence the way Bryan Singer did in the undeservedly assailed Superman Returns. By nodding to continuity but not making it critical to the storytelling, Mendes embraces the loose approach to continuity that has defined the series but without making the narrative a slave to continuity.

This is a lesson that movie studios that deal with comic properties and long-running franchises are learning the hard way: respect history, but don't be enslaved by it. The other half of the lesson--the part the studios aren't quite grasping--is that reboots, or transitional entries, needn't exist outside of narrative. In fact, organically integrating soft reboots, as opposed to hard reboots that radically reorient a series, into a strong narrative, which it goes without saying should be paramount, can help ease audiences into a transition and garner a greater appreciation for the changes. With franchise filmmaking becoming Hollywood's primary focus these days, it is imperative that they become as good at executing reboots as possible, and the best way to do that is to incorporate reboots into transitional narratives that can stand independently as solid works of art while moving the mythology of a franchise forward.

Ideally, Hollywood would abandon franchise moviemaking and focus on creating original stories that move us. However, with the landscape resting under a cloud of rationalized fear, there is little chance Hollywood will wholeheartedly embrace a return to making tentpoles and potential blockbusters based on wholly original ideas anytime in the very near future. That said, it may be best to brace for the continued onslaught of reboots and franchise watering that is bound to greet us at our local cinemas by encouraging the studios to be a bit more thoughtful and artful when introducing these glorified cash grabs. Hopefully, the assured success of Skyfall will show Hollywood that it is possible to reboot without rehashing and alienating audiences, all while crafting a solid, engaging narrative that spins a good yarn while pushing a mythology ever towards the breach.

Comic Con Day 3 Report

Doing lines is unavoidable at Comic Con.

Today, we stood in three lines, and only one of those lines got us anywhere.

We got to the convention center around 11 and went straight to the back of the line to the consistently crowded Ballroom 20, where we stood in line for three hours to get into the Vampire Diaries panel, which you can see the live blog of here.

After scooting out of the Vampire Diaries panel, we jumped in another line, this one for Marvel's movie panel. Unfortunately, the line didn't move, and ten minutes before the panel started, we escaped and made our way back to the Exhibit Hall to scour for more free stuff.

While trolling for handouts and giveaways, we caught a few pictures of Taraji P. Henson, for those Baby Boy and Tyler Perry fans out there, during a signing for CBS' Person of Interest. Taking pictures of celebs at Comic Con is the equivalent of being a red carpet paparazzi. Teeming crowds converge on a less than 100 square foot booth. Hands raise above heads, dangling cameras at odd angles. Flashes pop as the crowd some random soul screams for a distracted star's attention, and all you can do to get a shot off is slide your hand between a pair of bodies and push the button blind, hoping you caught a picture with the star facing you.

I was lucky. I managed to get a picture with the star actually facing me.

Other highlights of the day:

• The Vampire Diaries panel was great for the fans but ultimately revealed very little about where the fourth season was going.
• Marvel debuted footage of Iron Man 3 and announced the titles of the upcoming Thor and Captain America movies, respectively: Thor: The Dark World and Captain America: Winter Soldier.
• Marvel also announced movies for C-list hero Ant-Man (Spider-Man but not) and cosmic superteam The Guardians of the Galaxy.
• Warner Brothers debuted footage of Zack Snyder's Superman: Man of Steel, Guillermo Del Toro's giant robots vs. giant monsters epic Pacific Rim, and Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings prequel The Hobbit.

 Pictures from day 3 are forthcoming. Also, check back tomorrow for the report on the last day.