I mentioned in my review for the meta-cynical anti-comic book movie Kick Ass that I didn’t read comics, and that comic book movies were not really my thing. Part of the reason why I do not care for comic book movies is that they try to cram in a lot of mythology and canon into a single film, while still trying to create a story of its own. So, when Joss “Emperor of the Fanboys” Whedon announced The Avengers movie, I was a little curious as to how his approach would be. Knowing full well that being able to please everyone would be unlikely, I still wondered how he would, erm, assemble some pretty iconic characters and how he would treat them on the screen. Aside from that mere curiosity, I was not terribly interested in seeing it. Preferring the darker, nihilistic, revisionist Nolan Batman trilogy, I knew that The Avengers was created with the primary intention of giving fans, and maybe guys in general, the same incomparable sense of ecstasy and euphoria that, say, Martin Scorsese and Lars von Trier releasing their remake of Taxi Driver would give me. I knew it was going to be an “event film”, or more cynically a “water cooler movie” and I was ambivalent about the film for the most part. Though, upon hearing of its $207 million take in on its opening weekend, I thought that, rather than be left out of the conversation, I should cave in and go see it. After all was said and done, I would say it was worth it.
The storyline is fairly simple, using your typical North by Northwest/Lord of the Rings/cliché comic book MacGuffin: one man, um, I mean demigod (Tom Hiddleston) not only wants to rule the world, but harness the power of the Tesseract., a smoky cube that, as far as I could tell, had a lot of energy and also acted as a portal between worlds. Said demigod, Loki, so gloriously burdened by Hiddleston, decides to wage war on the planet. And, in order to stop him, Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) of the super-secret agency SHIELD, calls in a bunch of powerful misfits to stop him, all the while trying to control his new band of heroes from tearing each other apart before they can save the world from total destruction.
It was not as if coming up with the storyline itself was particularly difficult. Whedon is able to remain true to the characters and their mythology while at the same time weaving in some his own personal brush strokes in character and background. The worst part of the screenplay is the mumbo jumbo Whedon writes in about the science and technical terms, little details that probably only hardcore fans understand. Much like Star Wars, these details and the esoteric science talk serve little to the story. Yes, the film’s main purpose is to be all “explosion-y” and whatever, but what drew me to the film in the first place was Whedon’s characterization of the chemistry between the Avengers themselves. Prior to the film’s release, I had had an argument with someone about why someone might go to see the film. I acknowledged that, yes, a majority will be the built in audience that Marvel has and people (mostly guys) who like explosions. But I asserted that what was interesting about the film would be its approach to the flawed interpersonal relationships of each of the characters and their interactions with one another. The discussion went nowhere, but I maintain the position that those relationships and chemistry was the high point for an outsider.
Those relationships were handled pretty gracefully by Whedon, who wrote and directed the film. You have a set of giants in their own right fighting to remain together as a team so they can get a job done. Whatever the symbolism behind this, it was interesting to watch. Ego driven Tony Stark/Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr.) clashed with Steve Rogers/Captain America (Chris Evans), their ideals almost being polar opposite. While the former lusts after fame and style, the latter is the human personification of American Nationalism. Thor (Chris Hemsworth), of Norse mythology, also clashes with Iron Man. Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) clashes with Bruce Banner/the Hulk (newbie Mark Ruffalo). Et cetera, et cetera. Robert Downey Jr. is most often the instigator of these arguments, but it’s fascinating to see them happen. The dialogue is quick and terse, like something out of a screwball comedy. Yes, the come together and work as a team and whatnot, but their struggle to deal with everyone else’s flaws is no different than any audience member struggling with that same dilemma in their life. What these arguments show, without going overboard, is that there is a very human quality to all of these characters. (Sadly, Jeremy Renner’s Hawkeye does not get the opportunity to participate in these fun arguments.)
That, however, does not make up for the lack of character development. Despite the fact that Whedon is excellent at character development, everyone remains fairly static throughout the entire thing. Or, they remain at two stages in terms of their development: easily annoyed/trigger happy and in control and ready to be part of the team. The concept of development will probably get eye rolls from anyone else who’s seen the movie, and comic book movies have never been great at doing that anyways, so it might as well be a prerequisite to forget the idea altogether. Granted, the approach to each character’s world outlook makes up for it to some extent. Captain America is a little disillusioned at the state of America; Iron Man is cynical; Banner has some hope, cautious nevertheless; Black Widow is nihilistic; Thor is strangely protective. While these ideas are explored as deeply as one might hope, the mere exploration at all is good. In terms of their mythology, enough is explained so that anyone who is foreign to the various universes can pretty much keep up for most of it. Also impressive is the amount of screen time each character got, which was, more or less, equal, which makes it a true ensemble. One of the most interesting things about the cast is the inclusion of mark Ruffalo as Bruce Banner. Ruffalo is the third actor to portray Banner, and he probably does it the best. It is pleasantly controlled, which is ironic, since his character often lacks that quality. And the sparse use of the Hulk was also good, because, as they say, there is such an idea as too much of a good thing.
The stars delivered with what they needed to, and that was definitely a factor in how enjoying the movie was. While Johansson, with her sexy and badass style; Hemsworth, with his holier than thou growl; Renner, with his, uh, arrows; Evans, with his nationalistic determination; Ruffalo, with his fantastically restrained Banner; and Downey Jr. with his usual Stark persona, are all superb, it is the Medieval English spewing, power hungry, hysterically bratty Loki, King of Asgard who is the movie’s best actor. I suspect that why Loki stands out as being such a bad ass villain is because the classically trained Tom Hiddleston, or as I like to call him “The Best F. Scott Fitzgerald Ever”, breathes fascinating life into him. There is a sense of wit and, as aforementioned, brattiness that makes his character incredibly entertaining. There isn’t the same smugness or self-indulgence that you get from Downey Jr.’s Stark. Loki’s quest for power is rooted in the whole “Cain and Able” kind of relationship he has with Thor, although Loki is adopted. Hiddleston’s sneer alone is a highlight in and of itself.
The best thing this movie has to offer is a sense of humor. There was a Stephen Hawking Joke, a Legolas joke, and Wizard of Oz joke, and, while the audience I sat with did not laugh (very sad, I know), it was a pleasure to have them in there. Like 2008’s Iron Man, it isn’t incredibly self-serious about what it’s portraying. There isn’t as much meta-humor as there was in Whedon’s excellent The Cabin in the Woods, but it recognizes its clichés sometimes and plays with them, but in a very subtle way. All of the characters involved are fun to watch, both speaking and in action. Fun and humor, which is pretty much the only thing the film needs to offer.
And it offers fun in spades. Rather than watch some sort of mind numbing action sequence constructed with ADD by Michael Bay, the action scenes realized in The Avengers are breathtaking and, a majority of the time, coherent from an editing standpoint. The visual effects, brought to life by the wonderful people at ILM, are realistic and insanely enjoyable to see on the screen. With all the carnage on screen, especially in New York City, you have to wonder how they repair all of it. (This question is fleetingly commented on at the end of the movie.) The film’s use of 3D (I saw it in IMAX 3D) was used fairly well, although it did not crate as much of an immersive experience as maybe was intended. I am glad it was not gimmicky, it several notches above Lucas’s 3D re-release of Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace. The point is, though, that it got its main point across, that all of the explosions explode with gusto.
Whedon may have done the impossible and made a fun super hero movie that a) does not take itself too seriously b) treats its characters with equal respect c) explores the interactions between those characters and their consequences and d) made all of it a pretty damn good time. While the film is still flawed, its positive aspects outweigh any negatives. The Avengers brings together some iconic characters together and went out with a bang, making nearly every moment thrilling and exciting. With a fun and riveting turn from Hiddleston and good performances from everyone else, some superb action sequences, and great banter between all of the characters, the film met and exceeded my expectations. The proof is that this 2.5 hour movie didn’t feel long at all; it was too gripping to bore someone. Though, with the film crossing $1 billion already, you can bet that there will be a lesser sequel released in the near future. Until then, watching all of The Avengers will make for pretty good brain candy.
I like horror movies. Actually, I used to love them, even to the extent where, in fifth or sixth grade, I began to write a history of the horror genre in book form. Around seventh or eighth grade, I grew out of my obsession, not exactly because my tastes had been broadened, but because the genre was quickly getting old. A genre that once could reflect social anxieties and also be a lot of fun had turned into something cynical, cruel, and, worst of all, really boring. With the advent of torture porn, the new extreme horror movies did not seem to change much of anything; they just made it gorier. Yes, you had your exceptions like Saw and Scream 4, films that worked on a postmodern level that either explored human nature or the industry itself, and those were great. Neither, however, were really game changers. They could be clever, even great, but were just short of actually revitalizing an ironically dying genre. At least, not in the last decade or so. (You could argue, definitely, that the first Scream in 1996 was a game changer.) But, here we are, in 2012, and while every other studio is rebooting, remaking, and sequeling horror movies to death, Joss Whedon (Firefly, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog) and Drew Goddard (writer of Cloverfield) have something entirely new up their sleeves. Something that, while perhaps part of the postmodern meta-humor fad, is actually something different. Something fun, something funny, something terrifying, and something brilliant… this way comes. And it is also something I cannot really divulge.
Your five gloriously stupid young pretty people, your usual archetypes, are headed to, as the title suggests, a cabin in the woods. You have your alpha-male (Chris Hemsworth, pre-Thor), your sex-pot (Anna Hutchinson), your guy-who-actually-smokes-pot (Fran Kranz), your attractive bookish type (Jesse Williams), and your virgin (Kristen Connolly). Behold! The five most overused archetypes in the horror genre ever! All lines up and ready to be slaughtered. Not much else needs to be said about the fates of these poor pretty people, but terror ensues as these unwise people do stupid things, just as the audience predicts.
You know that feeling where you kind of relish the terrible fates of the pretty people in the horror films you watch and enjoy? Schadenfreude, the German expression that translates as “the pleasure from the misfortune of others”? Well, Whedon and Goddard feel it too. However, they seem to have gotten bored with the usual tropes and clichés; but they also seem to be fascinated why we love the stuff, even if it gets old, boring, and stupid. If Michael Heneke (director of the German art house horror film Funny Games) and Wes Craven (Scream) had a film baby, The Cabin in the Woodswould probably be it. It is equal parts a derisively hilarious deconstruction of the horror genre (a bit broader than the Scream series, which deconstructs slasher films specifically), and an analytical exploration as to why we, the sadistic audience, love every minute of it.
The acting is not bad at all. For what it needs to be, the acting is clever, which is greatly aided by the fact that the characters, while intentional carbon copy archetypes taken from the Book of Character Archetypes for Movies, are smart. Sometimes they do the idiotic things we, the audience, expect them to do, and sometimes they do something a little smarter. And we have Richard Jenkins (the Visitor) and Bradley Whitford (The West Wing) in the film too, which is pretty great.
The film wink-winks so often to the audience that, if the film were a person with eyes, they would need a very strong prescription for contacts. Even with the incessant postmodern level of construction, the film still remains, to some extent, unpredictable. The humor is devilish and hits you in a place one does not usually expect, but in an extreme jovial level, and in a way that, after you realize you are laughing (hysterically, in my case), you kick yourself a little because you feel like you should have expected the film to toy with you in this way.
Michael Heneke’s Funny Games is a cruel, merciless look at why audiences love horror movies, but the film’s extreme realism and self-satisfied laugh (and the fact that the villains break the fourth wall) make the director just as complicit in the enjoyment of the violence as the audience. Heneke rubs your face in it in a mean spirited way. Goddard and Whedon, however, have a similar treatment, but they ease it up so that they are laughing right along with you. Craven, in all his nightmarish genius, deconstructs a specific sub-genre of horror and does it well. Goddard and Whedon broaden the spectrum and seem to concentrate more on critiquing the voyeurism itself when watching horror movies. What Cabin does that Funny Games does not is fully admit that they love the stuff just as much as the audience that has come to see the carnage. It ends up being the product of two filmmakers who have become so bored with the tropes and clichés; they decide to make a change. Written by a couple of fans for millions of fans.
In a nice way, the film works as criticism of the genre and of the audience, but sans the pretentiousness that a film with these themes would have done. From making the broad generalizations about the horror genre and its over trodden tropes to making very specific allusions, Goddard and Whedon go back and use some of what we have seen before and tests to see if it still scares us. And when they know that it really doesn’t anymore, they high five and push it further, really asking why we audiences keep coming back. What makes it work? What is it about horror films that lead the audience to sadistically cackle at innocent people’s deaths? Thankfully, the two do not force an answer down the audience’s throats either and leave it to the viewer to decide.
After all this praise, how did I feel about the film? I loved it. It has been a very long time since I have seen a horror movie that made me laugh as hard as I did (manically, for that matter), make me jump as high as I did (a good foot in the air), and test me intellectually as much as it did. That is not to say the film is snobby or pretentious, just that it raised questions and asserted ideas that made the audience think both about the genre and about themselves. And it’s a film that is far less cynical than most of the meta-horror films that have been released recently (such as Scream 4). It was the most fun I have had at the movies in a long time.
The Cabin in the Woods can be thought of in two ways: as a very fun horror movie that is very clever in its deconstruction of the genre, or a very smart analysis and piece of criticism, both of the audience and of the genre itself. Deconstructing and criticizing are different things: Scream can deconstruct the slasher genre and fancy it up, but to criticize it, it had to point out how boring it really got and all of its errors and mistakes. Funny Games merely criticized, and maybe laughed in the faces of, the audiences who took pleasure in violence in film. The Cabin in the Woods is a kinder, but just as intelligent play on the two, able to stand on its own where, arguably, my comparison of Cabin to the two films is completely inessential to this review. (But, it is too late, so whatever.) Drew Goddard and Joss Whedon have directed and written a meta-masterpiece, capable of being smart without being snarky, scary without being cliché-ridden (not in the same way, at least), and funny without being stupid. The Cabin in the Woods might be, might be, the horror film to end all horror films of the last decade. That last comment is probably hyperbolic on my part, but Cabin is the first film in a very long time to send shivers down my spine, make me laugh hysterically, and exercise my intellectual acumen: all at the same time. The Cabin in the Woods is fun, frightening, and fantastic.