Three stars. Rated PG-13, and somewhat generously, for brief sensuality and relentless, soul-crushing violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.25.16
A perceptive philosophical theme
serves as this film’s beating heart, a tenet that — quite sadly — reflects these
cynical and despondent times: that, just as we worship our heroes, we’re all
too eager to tear them down.
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| Alexander Luthor (Jesse Eisenberg, center) is delighted to discover that the guests at his high-society event include inquisitive Daily Planet reporter Clark Kent (Henry Cavill, left) and fellow industrialist Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck). But why are they present? |
Because we’re also jealous, and
more than a little fearful. Because such individuals are different than you and
I.
The “Big Blue” standing as the
moral centerpiece of Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice couldn’t be more
different than the cheerful, easily admired boy scout played by Christopher
Reeve in his quartet of films, several decades and a tidal shift of public
sentiment ago. This 21st century Superman exists in a mutinous, resentful
America that mirrors our own today, with a populous eager to be suspicious of
any “alien” floating amongst us.
The resulting film is grim, its
tone unrelentingly melancholy, its subtext downright depressing: We clearly don’t
deserve a Superman.
For longtime comic book fans, the
irony is palpable. Back in the early 1960s, DC Comics’ stable of heroes —
Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman et al — were colorful but simplistic champions
who routinely, almost casually, defeated equally flamboyant villains in
self-contained storylines that mirrored popular TV dramas that did the same:
all problems solved in one quick read (or one quick hour), and then on to the
next adventure, perhaps with a quip or two. Nobody ever changed, because nobody
had anything approaching an actual personality.
Upstart Marvel Comics upended
this one-dimensional formula with its eye-opening roster of angst-laden
superheroes. When out of their costumes, Spiderman, Iron Man, the Fantastic
Four and their brethren felt like the folks next door, complete with anxieties
and ground-level responsibilities. Their clashes with bad guys often occurred
over multiple-issue story arcs: the outcomes less definitive, and often tinged
with regret.
How interesting, then, that these
two companies have switched roles en route to big-screen domination. Even at
their most dire, Marvel movies are fun, their cataclysmic events leavened with
an engaging layer of droll humor: a wink and nudge established the first time
Robert Downey Jr. donned his Iron Man togs.
At the same time, we’ve been
pummeled by director Christopher Nolan’s increasingly harsh Batman trilogy —
climaxing with 2012’s off-puttingly bleak Dark Knight Rises — and director
Zack Snyder’s vision of a naïve and easily manipulated Superman (played here,
as before, by Henry Cavill). There’s very little “fun” to be found in any of
these films: no escaping a judgmental tone that finds American society severely
wanting.
If Marvel movies are (for the
most part) a vicarious distraction from our real-world troubles, DC movies
relentlessly prey upon our social flaws, holding up a mirror and forcing us to
confront our shortcomings.
And yet, I’ve gotta give Snyder
credit. My biggest complaint about his handling of 2013’s Man of Steel was
the degree to which Superman’s climactic showdown with his evil Kryptonian
cousins — led by the horrific General Zod — laid waste to Metropolis, and so
casually resulted in thousands of fatalities. This seemed callously
inappropriate for a red-caped champion of “truth, justice and the American
way.”
Well, either Snyder listened to
such criticism, or Man of Steel was merely the opening chapter in a cleverly
conceived master plan: Either way, the director gets to eat his cake, and have
it too. Chris Terrio and David S. Goyer’s script for this new film confronts
that issue head-on, with a prologue that revisits Superman’s final clash with
Zod, but from a ground-level vantage point.
This time, we witness the
destruction through the eyes of a frantic Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck), as he tries
to save employees in one of his corporate buildings directly beneath the
skyward clash of titans. These efforts are mostly fruitless, generating a
frustrated impotence that will shape Bruce’s emerging view of omnipotent
“visitors.”
Eighteen months pass. Metropolis
re-builds; life resumes its normal course; intrepid journalist Lois Lane (Amy
Adams) once again gets into trouble. Superman arrives in a nick of time, but
not quickly enough to prevent the slaughter of innocents: a result for which he
is blamed — with no justification — in the court of public opinion.
Ah, but these flames of popular
discontent are being fanned by über-wealthy industrialist and scientific genius
Alexander Luthor (Jesse Eisenberg), who knows precisely how to stoke paranoia
for his own nefarious purposes.
(One cannot help comparing his
fear-mongering antics to those of a certain real-world presidential candidate,
which makes this film as well timed as The China Syndrome was, back in 1979.)
Luthor snows almost everybody of
national-level authority, save one holdout: U.S. Senator June Finch (Holly
Hunter), a steely eyed Kentucky Democrat with a homespun drawl and a distinct
aversion to a “cure” (a “weapon of deterrence” promised by Luthor) that’s
likely worse than the ostensible “disease” (Superman).
Eisenberg’s Luthor — twitchy, visibly
unbalanced and yet creepily imposing — has a marvelous confrontation with
Hunter’s Finch: a quiet verbal smackdown that remains a highlight in a film too
often prone to noisy bombast.
Bruce, meanwhile, is employing
his stealthy techniques to investigate not only Superman — seeking any sort of
weakness — but Luthor. Then there’s the matter of the stunningly gorgeous woman
(Gal Gadot) who, rather oddly, turns up in unexpected places at weirdly
coincidental moments.
Sen. Finch’s intransigence
notwithstanding, Luthor achieves his primary goals: He gains access to the
remnants of Zod’s massive Kryptonian war craft, and Superman is pressured to
justify himself before a Congressional hearing. The latter feels like good news
to Bruce, which is a bit hypocritical, since his dark-knight alter ego has been
terrorizing Gotham City’s underworld.
Such activities, in turn, have
angered Superman, whose Kansas-fostered moral code rejects the notion of
vigilante activity. With both heroes now wary and suspicious of each other’s
motives and behavior, the result is inevitable.
Sadly, it’ll be much, much worse
than either anticipates ... thanks to Luthor’s machinations.
Longtime comic book fans will
recognize this as one of the medium’s favorite traditions: the mäno ä mäno
beat-down that results from an often simple misunderstanding, and then
escalates to landscape-flattening chaos. (Because, at their core, these super
folks are just people prone to disagreements, donchaknow.)
Unfortunately — as was the case
with Man of Steel — Snyder engages rather too gleefully in the resulting
orgies of violence. This is an ear-splittingly loud film, and the various
clashes are ludicrously over the top, particularly during a third-act endgame
that resurrects an infamous comic book Big Bad who made real-world headlines
back in 1992.
The resulting earth-shattering
(literally) carnage during this bout borders on tastelessly self-indulgent,
even by Snyder’s warped standards.
En route, though, we get plenty
of characterization from our protagonists, most notably from Cavill, who brings
genuine pathos to Superman’s anguished self-doubt. His growing regret, guilt
and even shame are persuasively depicted, his stalwart gaze often melting into
shattered disappointment: How could rank-and-file Americans be misjudging him
so badly?
At the other extreme, Cavill’s
contrasting depiction of eager-beaver Clark Kent is droll (although never quite
as huggable as Reeve’s Clark was). Clark’s mutually devoted bond with Adams’
spitfire Lois — they’re a definite item now, and she shares his other identity
— is sweetly passionate, and we know that they’d do anything for each other.
It takes a bit to adapt to
Eisenberg’s reading of Luthor; at first he seems too collegiate and juvenile.
But Eisenberg soon makes the role his own, turning this master villain into a
chillingly narcissistic sociopath who can be funny and charming, but lacks any
empathy and meaningful human contact. He becomes very, very scary.
Affleck’s Bruce Wayne is driven,
dedicated and ferociously single-minded: a true avenging dark knight and figure
of justice. We don’t for a second doubt his mental and physical capabilities,
or the means by which he might maneuver a seemingly one-sided conflict to more
equal footing. Affleck handles the role with conviction.
On the other hand, the
increasingly awful dreams to which Bruce is subjected — and which we
simultaneously experience — are ridiculous and badly overused: a thoroughly gratuitous
distraction.
Jeremy Irons is assurance
personified as Bruce’s capable butler and best friend, Alfred, (managing the
near impossible, by giving the character a presence perhaps even superior to
Michael Caine’s depiction in Nolan’s trilogy). Gadot is spot-on as a woman of
mystery, her knowing smile and coquettish manner concealing ... well, that
would be telling.
The aforementioned genre fans
also will love the foreshadowing revealed by Bruce’s research: brief glimpses
of other DC universe heroes to be played by Jason Momoa, Ezra Miller and Ray
Fisher, and scheduled to be unveiled, in full glory, in November 2017.
Strong, contemplative and timely
ideas percolate at the core of this bloated, 151-minute film: most particularly
the telling question — “Who watches the watchers?” — that also fueled Snyder’s
2009 adaptation of Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons’ Watchmen. Too often, though,
these issues drown beneath the overwhelming special effects and devastating
collateral carnage.
There’s a fine line between trenchant
and mean-spirited, and I’m not persuaded that Snyder remains on the proper
side.
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