REVIEW: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

2018 has certainly been a big year for Spider-Man, hasn't it? He's had a hit video game come out, his comics aren't bad for the first time in a good long while, and he DIED. Spider-Man (or rather, the entire concept of the character) is also the primary subject of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, brought to us by the fine folks at Sony Animation and produced by Clone High progenitors, Phil Lord and Chris Miller. Naturally, anything with Lord and Miller involved is sure to get my attention (their involvement with Solo being the only reason I ever had even a passing interest in that movie), so I couldn't wait to see what they did with a character like Miles Morales, who has always felt like a wealth of untapped potential. While the end result didn't utterly blow me away, I think it's safe to say that Into the Spider-Verse is a strong contender for the best animated film of 2018 (or at the very least, the best animated superhero film of 2018).

The primary focus of the story, as mentioned before, is young Miles Morales (Shameik Moore); after acquiring spider-powers of his own and witnessing the untimely demise of his universe's Spider-Man (Chris Pine) at the hands of the villainous Kingpin (Liev Schreiber), Miles is left feeling woefully under-prepared in the face of the great responsibility that's been bestowed upon him. Fortunately for Miles, he's not the only Spider-person crawling around New York. As a result of Kingpin's experiments, alternate Spider-Men from alternate realities have been plucked from their home dimensions and deposited in Miles' version of NYC, including an older, washed-up Peter Parker (Jake Johnson). With the help of his reluctant new mentor, Miles must live up to Peter Parker's legacy, defeat the Kingpin, and find a way to save his new friends and, indeed, the world.

SPOILER ALERT: The remainder of this Review spoils key plot elements of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse!

Really, the plot is my only major issue with this movie, in that it feels as though it can't decide whether it wants to be a Miles Morales origin story or an experimental dimension-blending crossover event. It tries to go for both, but in the process ends up spreading itself too thin in some regards, neglecting elements from both sides of the story. A good example is Miles' relationship with his Uncle Aaron (Mahershala Ali); the film establishes a promising dynamic between the two, with Aaron acting as a sort of outlet for all the aspects of Miles' personality that his father, Jefferson (Brian Tyree Henry), has trouble relating to. The only problem is that Miles and Aaron really only share two scenes together. Miles hangs out with him when he gets his spider-powers (honestly one of the best sequences in the movie), then Aaron is the Prowler for the rest of the film, and then he dies and that's that. It just feels like a missed opportunity for something grander that lives up to the intrigue established early on, and perhaps less focus on the alternate universe Spider-people would have freed up more time to devote to their relationship.

On the other side of the story, we have other characters who don't get near their due in the form of Spider-Man Noir (Nic Cage), Peni Parker (Kimiko Glen), and Spider-Ham (John Mulaney). All three are brought to life through some stunningly imaginative animation and perfectly cast voice acting, yet at the same time feel wholly under-utilized. These characters dominated the trailers, yet they altogether have very little impact on the plot, entering in at about the midway point in the story and sharing what felt like a collective thirty lines between the three of them. Visually-speaking, they bring a lot to the table, but contextually they felt more like a mere aesthetic device; really, that sums up my main issue with the movie as a whole. Part of me wonders if this wouldn't be a stronger overall product if the amount of Spider-Men was capped at just Miles, Peter, and Gwen (Hailee Steinfeld), or even just Miles and Peter for that matter. Gwen, despite a cool costume and elegant fighting style, has very little to do here, and it felt like the movie didn't explore the older, dumpier Peter Parker nearly as much as it should have. 

Peter Parker, as a fictional character, is almost always trapped in a state of arrested development; writers tend to hesitate letting Pete advance beyond the stage where he's still going to school or working part-time for the Daily Bugle. The average consumer knows Spider-Man as a teenager (or vaguely 20-something at the oldest), so that's what tends to sell, meaning we rarely see portrayals of Spider-Man advance past that point (and even when they manage to, a retcon sending him back to that tried and true "aw jeez I've gotta get to class on time but now THE RHINO is attacking!" formula is never far away). Spider-Verse's take on an older, jaded Peter Parker who's simply fought too long and lost too much is a truly unique take on the character, and the film's way of twisting this archetype we all know so well presents a lot of potential for emotional depth; he's buried his Aunt May, Mary Jane divorced him, his metabolism is catching up with him, and he's just left to be a sad, lonely man in a spider onesie whose best years are long behind him. He makes the conscious decision to sacrifice himself for the greater good, even after Miles shows up during the climax to save the day. This is a Peter Parker who is actively ready and willing to die in action, yet his emotional struggle is more or less glossed over despite it having a significant impact on the plot. It's an issue we get with the Kingpin as well; the film wastes no time in establishing Wilson Fisk as a physical threat (his massive, angular design inspired by Bill Sienkiewicz's Daredevil: Love and War) and Liev Schreiber does a great job channeling his inner mafioso, but all we really get in the way of motivation is a 30-second flashback in the middle of an action sequence. The tragic reveal of why Kingpin is messing around with inter-dimensional portals makes narrative sense and sets the stage for an emotional climax, but the film doesn't really do anything with this new information. When it finally comes time for Miles to face Kingpin on his own, it's a pretty straightforward superhero fight; good guy punches bad guy, bad guy almost beats good guy, good guy triumphs, courtesy your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

The real strength of this movie (aside from the stunning animation, more on that later), is when it outright revels in the new and original. One of my absolute favorite characters was Kathryn Hahn's surprise turn as a female Doctor Octopus; while it's not exactly a brand-new concept, it's little differences like these that help cement the idea that Miles' universe is a world of new and exciting spider-possibilities. This version of Doc Ock truly feels like a fresh addition to the pantheon of superhero movie antagonists, and especially to the limited pool of female bad guys (a group where, as far as Marvel is concerned, Hela and Ayesha are the only antagonists who aren't redeemed or relegated to the role of your average henchwoman). She isn't secretly insecure about her appearance and she doesn't get off easy with a heroic turn because she's more sensitive than her male cohorts in crime. She's just a mad scientist who's really into the idea of brutally murdering Spider-Man, and I'd love to see more female antagonists show this much unabashed enthusiasm in their work.

It's through details like this that Into the Spider-Verse truly shines. While I found the overall plot to be a little unbalanced, it's when the movie goes all-in on presenting us with something that we haven't seen before that it ascends to heights worth raving about. My primary criticism of the MCU's take on the wall-crawler is that, for as enthusiastic as Tom Holland's performance is, the way in which his stories are told belies a deep-seated misunderstanding of not only the character of Peter Parker, but the very concept of Spider-Man as a whole. There's no such issue present with Spider-Verse; this is a movie with a reverent love and understanding of what makes Spider-Man tick (regardless of who's under the mask) and why his stories and struggles and assorted adventures resonate so deeply with such a wide audience again and again, and it often takes risks in how it presents itself in order to convey that sense of understanding to the viewer.

The character of Miles isn't simply "inoffensively brown Peter Parker" here. They're two radically different people in radically different circumstances, the only connecting thread between them having been weaved by a radioactive spider. Spider-Man, as a concept, is all about a person (typically a younger person) being thrust against their will into extraordinary circumstances. The weight of the world is placed upon Spidey's shoulders and it's his responsibility to carry that weight so that the world may spin on. It's Young Protagonist 101, and the film doesn't harbor the delusion that a legacy character need be a 1:1 copy of the more iconic hero who preceded them in order to fill the same shoes. Miles' relationship with Jefferson and Aaron is very different from Peter's relationship with Uncle Ben, and while I felt it could have been fleshed out more in a few areas, it still managed to hit me right where I live in the same kind of way that "with great power, there must also come great responsibility" does. Brian Tyree Henry gives an amazing performance as Jeff and his dynamic with Miles is honestly strong enough to have carried an origin story all on its own. It speaks volumes about the quality of a story when the only major complaint I have is "I liked everything it gave me so much, I wish it was either longer or less jam-packed so it could give me even more".

Also, hey, not sure if you're aware of this, but the movie is absolutely downright stunning to look at. We truly are living in the renaissance of computer-generated animation, as Into the Spider-Verse looks so fantastic that Sony have attempted the ultimate scumbag move of trying to patent the animation style used in this movie. It's the kind of film I can't wait to watch on Blu-Ray, just to pick apart all of the background details (a billboard in Times Square advertising Clone College made me equal parts excited and sad). There's just loads of visual information packed into every frame. Parts of the background that, in a live-action film, would be out of focus are rendered to resemble the dye blur found in older comic books. Ben Day dots are all over the place and sound-effects are typically accompanied by animated onomatopoeia floating across the screen. After Miles gets bitten and his Spidey-Sense starts to tingle, his interior monologues begin appearing in yellow boxes near the top of the screen, complete with little wavy effect lines emanating from his head. I hesitate to use the phrase "a feast for the eyes" here, first and foremost because it's terribly cliché, but also because it honestly doesn't do the visuals here justice. The animation and shot composition are not only used as a means of giving this movie its own unique identity, but also to further the story; when Miles jumps off the side of a skyscraper during the "What's Up Danger" sequence, the camera is inverted. Because Miles isn't falling, he's rising. What Spider-Verse occasionally lacks in narrative cohesion, it more than makes up for in visual flair. It's a movie with so much evident care and thoughtful design oozing out of every pore that I simply can't not recommend it to everyone, dedicated Spider-fan or no.

While I'd still hesitate to call Into the Spider-Verse the greatest Spider-Man movie ever made, it's an easy lock for one of the top 3, and I absolutely wouldn't fault someone who put it at the very top of their personal list. It's not without its flaws (personally, the soundtrack felt very hit-or-miss at times), but as a piece of Spider-Man media, it's not hard at all to place this near the top of the stack. Now that the origin-story bloat is over and dealt with, I can't wait to see what the creative team behind this has in-store for the sequel; if the post-credits scene is any indication of where the plot is heading (which I hope it is, seeing as how it was easily my favorite post-credits stinger of 2018, possibly of all time), I'm beyond excited to see what the future will bring. Congratulations, Sony. You actually did good. Now don't screw this up. I mean... good luck.

REVIEW: Venom

Now here's something I definitely didn't expect to see in theaters. When Sony Pictures, the "studio" behind such "movies" as Peter Rabbit and the Ghostbusters remake, announced a standalone film starring Spider-Man's longtime nemesis, Venom, I decided then and there that I'd abstain from paying money to see it as a form of protest. It was obvious to me that Sony was simply trying to extort more money from Marvel Studios, holding Spidey and friends ransom; if Kevin Feige wasn't gonna let Amy Pascal muck up his MCU clubhouse, then Sony would simply have to do everything they could to poison the Spider-Man brand in the meantime. They're hanging on by a thread as it is, might as well bet it all on black and hope for the best. The symbiote arc felt like a natural next step for the MCU's take on the wallcrawler (considering how Spider-Man Homecoming used Peter Parker's costume as a metaphor for him becoming his own hero, and Venom is literally a living Spider-Man suit looking to control its host, but I'm getting ahead of myself), and seeing Sony squander such a concept over petty company politics left a bad taste in my mouth. Venom was not a movie I needed to pay money to see, since any financial success it enjoyed would damage the MCU that I've come to love so well. But then Disney fired James Gunn, so screw it, go team Venom!

The plot, curiously enough, contains exactly no reference to Spider-Man whatsoever (despite Sony still clinging to the movie rights for the character and his entire supporting cast); a daunting prospect, seeing as how Venom is a supervillain spawned from one of Spider-Man's old costumes (actually an alien symbiote he picked up during the Secret Wars) bonding to a bitter journalist named Eddie Brock. This backstory is the entire reason Venom himself is a sort of dark reflection of Spider-Man; naturally, I was skeptical of Sony's ability to faithfully adapt the character to the big screen without once bringing the main hero into the mix. After all, we remember how well it turned out the last time a studio tried to spin-off a supervillain as an anti-hero in a standalone film that contained no trace of their comic book origins.

Surprisingly enough, the film more or less pulls off crafting a faithful depiction of Venom without once even alluding to the existence of Spider-Man (which is more than I can say for Topher Grace's take on the character in Spider-Man 3). The specific inspiration for this incarnation comes from Venom's Lethal Protector solo-series from the 90's, in which he took on the role of a wise-cracking anti-hero, rather than a tortured soul literally consumed by notions of vengeance. Make no mistake, this is not a serious film in any sense of the word. The Venom we get here is  much more "Strangers in the Night", as opposed to the "monster metaphor for addiction and abuse" we see in more modern stories. The result is a surprisingly silly buddy flick that ends up being the best superhero movie of 2006.

This is a movie that all but entirely ignores every bit of evolution the superhero genre has gone through in the past decade, to the point where I don't think I even need to talk about the plot (but will briefly anyway, because hey). Tom Hardy plays Eddie Brock, an investigative journalist who's down on his luck after attempting to expose the shady Life Foundation and its charismatic, Steve Jobs-ian CEO, Carlton Drake (Riz Ahmed). While snooping around Drake's sinister science lab, Eddie becomes bonded to an alien symbiote named Venom (also voiced by Hardy). Together, the two form an unlikely bromance as they attempt to stop Drake's sinister schemes and win back Eddie's ex-fiance (Michelle Williams). There's some action, some comedy, finish things up with the most obvious sequel tease of all time, and roll credits. Despite a near two hour runtime, it doesn't feel nearly that long, so while the story definitely isn't what I'd call good, I can at least say that it doesn't bother wasting anyone's time.

If there's one thing I definitely liked about this movie, it would be Tom Hardy. You can tell he's really having a blast with the role, elevating the clunky dialog and bland plot, and that makes all the difference in the world when everything else here is thoroughly mediocre to outright bad. Apparently 40 minutes of footage was slashed from the final cut, the majority of which supposedly contained additional scenes of Eddie and Venom getting to know one another (scenes which Tom Hardy cited as his favorite parts of the movie). While it may have hurt the pacing, giving Hardy more screentime to talk to himself would have only improved the film for me. Eddie and the symbiote have an oddly endearing dynamic, definitely moreso than any of the other characters in the film (although Venom's odd fondness for Williams' character was pretty cute as well).

It all works in service of the surprisingly light tone, which feels much more in line with a screwball buddy comedy than a horror/action/sci-fi adventure. Like I said before, this isn't the tortured, nuanced, modern Venom we all know, so much as it is the wacky, nutty, 90's Venom of the past; part of me really wishes this was a period piece set in the early 90's, chock full of references to The Fresh Prince and Beanie Babies. At least then the film would have some sort of identity, and you could maybe write off the generic plot and story beats as "a charming throwback to a simpler kind of superhero movie". As is, this just feels like the executives at Sony dusted off the crib notes Avi Arad has had stashed in his desk drawer for the past 20 years and used them to throw a movie together while they desperately try to get the SUMC (Sony Universe of Marvel Characters, for the uninitiated) off the ground.

Outside of Tom Hardy's performance (and the so-embarrassing-it's-amazing Eminem song during the credits), literally everything else in this movie falls flat. Ahmed and Williams are fine as the megalomaniacal villain and flat love interest, the special effects are nothing special, and the action is sparse and serviceable (except for the climax, in which a black goo monster and a gray goo monster fight in an industrial area at night against a pitch-black sky, reaching Bayformers levels of incomprehensible visual noise). It's one of the most by-the-numbers comic book movies I've ever seen, and while adhering to a formula isn't an inherently bad thing, you'd usually want at least one unique or extraordinary element to elevate the entire thing above the formula it adheres to. The only feather in Venom's cap is a pretty fun Tom Hardy performance, and it's not even close to being his best work. You can tell he's just goofing around, it's like a vacation for him in-between real movies. Tom Hardy is the one element at play here that keeps Venom from being a purely negative experience, but it's not like you can compare Eddie Brock to Max Rockatansky or Charlie Bronson. There's no emotion, no underlying themes or metaphors, it's just a series of mildly amusing sequences interspersed alongside markedly less amusing sequences.

It's no secret that Venom was originally going to be released with an R rating before being mercilessly trimmed down to a PG-13 (thus ensuring a wider audience would be able to see it in theaters). Judging from its respectable show at the October box office, I'd say this gambit paid off, but only from a purely financial standpoint. Like I've said so far, the only really positive thing about this movie is that it's kinda fun, and I can definitively say without a doubt in my mind that it would have been exponentially more fun if we got some gore, swearing, and nudity in there as well. With how CGI-intensive the fight scenes are, it's painfully obvious that the original end result was meant to be far bloodier than what we ended up with. During one sequence, in which Venom faces off against a bunch of riot cops, he picks one up over his head, one arm on the officer's torso, the other on his legs. He appears primed to tear the poor schlub clean in half, but instead just sort of gently tosses him off to the side, making me wonder why they gave that moment so much focus. And that's not even counting all the heads that are eaten off-screen and obvious four-letter words that were ADR'd out of existence. Despite a brisk pace, the film looks like it was edited with a chainsaw; it constantly feels as though it's holding back whenever it tries to be dark or comedic, which are the only two tones this movie has to offer. Venom made bank at the box office, so we're definitely getting a sequel (take a fat guess at what the sequel is going to be... congratulations, you guessed correctly). My only hope is that Venom 2 is a hard R, with Tom Hardy not only starring, but executive producing as well. He's more than earned some creative control of the franchise moving forward, considering he's literally the only thing keeping this from being a totally braindead, joyless experience.

Venom is not even close to being a good movie, but I can't say I had a bad time watching it. If you're a fan of the character (specifically his campy, dated, 90's roots), you're going to get the satisfaction of seeing Venom done justice on the big screen and exactly nothing else. The plot is clichéd nonsense, the action is toothless, and there's literally nothing special or notable about it aside from Tom Hardy. With the right audience, it could be a fun enough time, but that's all it is. I can't say I recommend it, but it's also far from the worst thing Sony has put out in recent years. If they could find some way to implement this version of Venom into the MCU, I'd be all for it. But as far as the actual movie goes, the best part part of the entire thing was the two minutes of Into the Spider-Verse footage we got to see after the credits had finished rolling.

REVIEW: Ant-Man and the Wasp

Speaking as someone who liked the first Ant-Man, I feel like even I have to agree with everyone else in saying "who even cares about Ant-Man and The Wasp after THAT?" I mean, can you blame us? I figured I'd change my mind and come around after the hype from Infinity War died down, but it's two months later and I still can't fathom why Marvel decided to release their biggest and most-awaited film to date before their sequel to Ant-Man. I was reasonably excited for this movie, yet I still found myself saying "oh yeah, that did just came out, didn't it?" last weekend. I went to the theater, grabbed my ticket, and settled in with low expectations for an offbeat, inoffensive sci-fi/comedy romp. Unfortunately, I feel like the filmmakers approached this project with those same expectations in mind, and therein lies the problem.

Set two years after the first film, we find Scott Lang under house arrest after the airport incident in Captain America: Civil War. He hasn't worn the Ant-Man suit since, spending his sentence making up for lost time with his daughter, Cassie (Abby Ryder Fortson); this all changes when he's contacted once again by Hope Van Dyne (Evangeline Lilly) and her father, Hank (Michael Douglas). After the events of the first Ant-Man film, the two have been working on a device capable of accessing the Quantum Realm, the mysterious, sub-atomic dimension where Hope's mother (and Hank's wife), Janet (Michelle Pfeifer), is thought to be lost. Seeing as how Scott successfully navigated the Quantum Realm in the first movie, Hank and Hope believe him to be the key to locating and rescuing Janet. Naturally, it's not quite that easy; things are complicated, not only by Scott's incarceration, but by the Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen), a sinister operative with the ability to phase through solid matter and a keen interest in Hank's research on Quantum energy. With Janet's life hanging in the balance, it's up to Ant-Man and The Wasp to save the day without violating the terms of Scott's plea arrangement.

If this movie has a strong-suit, it's most definitely the character interactions. Scott Lang continues to be one of the most likeable protagonists in the MCU, and his dynamic with Hope reaches new heights this time around. It would have been so simple to go with the old cliché of "inept but loveable man/capable but angry woman", but instead we're allowed moments to see that Hope genuinely cares about Scott. This isn't a one-sided attraction, meant to act as wish-fulfillment for any divorced dads in the audience; they work well together, both as superheroes and human beings, and this is all thanks to Rudd and Lilly's charming "workplace romance"-style chemistry. I also really liked Scott's family dynamic this time around; his relationship with Cassie continues to be tooth-achingly adorable, and it's really nice to see a divorced couple interact in a realistic yet positive manner. There's no glimmer of hope that Scott and his ex-wife (played by Judy Greer) are going to get back together, but they're both totally invested in putting their daughter first, despite the circumstances of their family situation. There isn't any of that "my ex-wife is a shrew and her new man is a tool, they're gonna get some gratifying comuppance" nonsense to be found here; it's a genuinely sweet (if a tad idyllic) portrayal of how parents and step-parents can overcome personal drama and past disputes to make a positive impact in their child's life.

Really, this movie does a lot of interesting things regarding morality and the way people overcome personal conflicts with one another. Ghost is another excellent antagonist in the modern MCU, doing questionable things for perfectly understandable reasons. Her life is at risk, the same as Janet's, so our heroes are placed in a tricky spot; if they do as Ghost asks, they're throwing away their chance at saving Hope's mother. But if they "beat" Ghost the way a superhero usually might, they're essentially condemning her to a painful death, as her condition worsens to the point that it literally causes her to phase out of existence. It's a curious predicament that leads to an admittedly inventive outcome, albeit by way of a conflict resolution that completely dismisses any and all intrigue generated by this catch-22 of a situation (not unlike the way things were resolved in Black Panther). It gives us a host of charming character interactions and a villain who plays with the story and cast in ways you wouldn't necessarily expect, only to handicap itself with a complete and utter lack of any and all ambition in every other respect.

It's a film that, compared to its predecessor, feels much more confident and self-assured of its own identity. Typically, this would be a positive thing, except that the identity in question is painfully unremarkable in nearly every way. The first Ant-Man felt like a truly daring experiment for Marvel Studios; it's the film that made everyone say "okay, I liked The Avengers and Guardians of the Galaxy, but really? Ant-Man?" It had an uphill battle to fight in winning over mainstream audiences, and it more than succeeded. Ant-Man and The Wasp, however, feels like exactly what you'd expect if you asked someone to make a generic Marvel movie. It feels like it lacks an identity of its own, especially in a visual sense, which leads me to believe that everything I found so impressive and imaginative about the first Ant-Man was just left-over details from the original Edgar Wright draft. Unlike its predecessor, Ant-Man and The Wasp has no groundwork to build off of, so everything feels noticably flatter as a result.

The action in particular suffers the worst here; outside of a fun and engaging chase sequence through the streets of San Francisco, the fight scenes here are nothing to write home about. We rarely see things from Ant-Man or Wasp's tiny perspective (which, visually speaking, was the best thing about the first movie); instead, get ready to watch that "shrink, dodge, grow, kick, shrink, dodge, grow, kick" maneuver over and over and over again. I understand that it can be challenging to showcase shrinking powers when the main villain is a normal-sized human 100% of the time, but then that's sort of the challenge, isn't it? There's also next to no ant-based action, which was a huge disappointment for me, seeing as how that's easily Ant-Man's most unique ability. Remember that insane sequence in the first movie where Scott learned about all the different types of ants he'd be using during the heist? Here, the ants are purely set dressing and transportation, nothing more (in a movie called Ant-Man and The Wasp, no less). It's a nitpick, sure, but again, why do it at all if you're not even going to try? Ant-Man is a challenging character to bring to life on the big screen, but that's supposed to be the appeal; a movie about Ant-Man isn't going to be as straightforward in terms of its action, direction, or visuals as a movie about Captain America or The Hulk. Instead of rising to the occasion like the first movie did, Ant-Man and The Wasp puts all of its chips on its (admittedly endearing) cast and ends up feeling lesser overall because of it.

All of those flaws, however, more or less fell within my expectations. I came in expecting a lighthearted, low-stakes sci-fi adventure, nothing anywhere near on the same level as Infinity War, and that's basically what I got. I can excuse some preference-based hang-ups and nitpicks for a situation like this, where the film in question isn't really aspiring to be anything more than an enjoyable, down-to-earth romp. What I can't excuse, however, is the numerous plot holes, conveniences, and outright examples of laziness found within this film's storyline. I love Michelle Pfeifer and think she's a perfect choice for the role of Janet Van Dyne, but it's not hyperbole to say that her chunk of the story is held together with chewing gum and dental floss. Everyone's talking about the amount of technobabble in this film, which, to be fair, is to be expected from a character as deeply-rooted in the world of fantastical super-science as Ant-Man. Normally, a character like Scott Lang would act as the everyman, giving Hank and Hope an excuse to put everything in layman's terms for the audience. It's a well-worn trope, but it's more or less forgivable, seeing as how it plays a practical purpose in conveying plot details to the audience (i.e. the scene in Event Horizon in which Sam Niell sticks a pencil through a folded sheet of paper to explain warp-travel). 

The only problem is that we never really get that explanation. The constant repetition of the word "quantum" is just filler, to the point that the film itself makes it the punchline of a joke. You could make the argument that this is meant to be a clever subversion of a classic sci-fi trope (since, in reality, Hank Pym probably wouldn't waste his time explaining the ins and outs of quantum science to a schmo like Scott, especially while on the clock), but I feel that it's much more likely that the filmmakers realized that if they attempted to explain the technobabble, the entire plot would fall apart. The whole point of sci-fi is that it's fiction rooted in science; it's fascinating because, even though concepts like laser guns and robot suits are fantastical, we can more or less rationalize how they might work. Here, the Quantum Realm is essentially magic; if you were to remove every instance of the word "quantum" from the script, you'd end up with a story that answers every pertinent question with "because". How did Janet survive in the Quantum Realm for 30 years without starving or going insane? Because. Why do our heroes only have a set amount of time to rescue her? Because. I'd be fine if the Ant-Man series started to become more fantasy than sci-fi (hey, the opposite worked out alright for Thor), but this just feels indefensibly lazy. Any time a plot point has to happen, the film forces it through by way of some made-up science-y sounding words. It's the same issue I had with the black goo in Prometheus, and I honestly wouldn't care if all of these conveniences didn't occur in places that are integral to the plot we're supposed to care about. You can have harmless conveniences in your movie; it's convenient that Scott happened to be robbing a house with a shrink suit in the basement in the first Ant-Man, but the film isn't lesser for it. You can use coincidence to get your characters into a predicament, but you should never use it to get them out of it, which is something Ant-Man and The Wasp does at all the worst moments. A movie can be off-beat and endearing without insulting the viewer's intelligence, but then that's a balance that this film struggles to grasp (despite a few clever moments here and there).

Despite some really enjoyable performances and some occasionally fun action, Ant-Man and The Wasp only manages to feel painfully average at best. It's inoffensive, but altogether unremarkable, which is a shame, seeing as how this is the 20th film in the MCU. If you're just looking for an excuse to go to the cinema this summer, you could most definitely do worse, and I know kids are gonna love this just as much as they loved the first one (if you have small children, it's sure to inspire less awkward conversations about the nature of mortality than Infinity War did). That said, I'm not sure I need another Ant-Man adventure after this, if this is all they're going to aspire to be. There's nothing wrong with having more low-key entries in something as massive as the MCU; movies like Ant-Man can provide some much needed levity and breathing room in-between the larger blockbusters. But just because a movie aims to be fun and laid-back doesn't mean it has to feel this unambitious and lazy. It's just a victory lap after Infinity War, and I really hope Marvel Studios avoids this kind of attitude in the future. With how much time, effort, and money they've poured into crafting the MCU into an interwoven narrative of annual blockbusters, the one thing they should never aspire to be is "fun enough, but nonessential viewing", which is exactly what Ant-Man and The Wasp turned out to be.

REVIEW: Deadpool 2

It's going to be more than a little difficult to write about Deadpool 2 without simply reiterating everything I said in my Review of the first Deadpool film. It stands to reason that, if you enjoyed Deadpool, you'll also enjoy Deadpool 2; however, I feel like statements such as these tend to take on a somewhat bittersweet connotation, implying a lack of scope or growth on the part of the filmmakers. "If you liked X, you'll like Y" seems to imply the idea that a sequel is simply more of the same and little else, but I have to say that that's not entirely the case with Deadpool 2. While it doesn't exactly shoot for the moon in terms of upping the stakes, it still manages to deliver another hilarious (yet surprisingly heartfelt) chapter in the life of Wade Wilson (Ryan Reynolds). 

When you've broken as many box office records as Fox did with the first Deadpool, there'd be an understandable temptation to go all-out with the sequel. The first film was made on a comparatively modest budget of $58 million (about a fifth of what it cost to make Avengers: Infinity War), forcing director Tim Miller to find creative workarounds for the movie's lack of funds; for example, the planned gunfight that was meant to make up the climax proved too expensive to actually film, leading to a stellar gag in which Deadpool forgets all of his weapons in a taxicab and has to fight everyone with just his swords. Limitations can often be the impetus for moments of brilliance, so one of my greatest fears for this sequel in the months leading up to its release was that the small-scale charm of the original would be lost under a tsunami of studio money. There's always clear temptation to blow millions upon millions on making things bigger and better when making a sequel (especially a superhero sequel), so I was happy to see that the crew behind Deadpool 2 focused decidedly less on reinventing the wheel and more on merely refining what made the original so endearing.

With the original Deadpool ending on a surprisingly sweet note, it's worth noting that happiness and good fortune rarely smile upon the life of Wade Wilson for long. Without spoiling anything (that, admittedly, happens in the first five or so minutes), we see Deadpool's life thrown into chaos and misery once again. As Colossus (Stefan Kapicic) and Negasonic Teenage Warhead (Brianna Hildebrand) attempt to get the mopey merc back on his feet by training him to be an X-Man, the team runs afoul of a troubled young mutant by the name of Russell (otherwise known as his edgy alter-ego, Firefist, played by Julian Dennison). Meanwhile, in a briefly-glimpsed post-apocalyptic future, the cyber-soldier known as Cable (Josh Brolin) returns home to find his family incinerated by a now-grown Firefist. With Cable traveling back in time to kill Russell before he can get a taste for murder, it's up to Deadpool to step outside of his comfort zone and try to find a decidedly non-violent solution that will simultaneously fix the future and save Russell's soul.

The thing I liked the most about the first Deadpool is that its stakes were, for a superhero movie, very small and personal. There was no super-weapon or invading force poised to destroy all of humanity as we know it, just an insecure goofball looking to get revenge on the guy who ruined his good looks. This is also the case here; Cable isn't fighting for the fate of the entire future, just his wife and child. Deadpool isn't looking to save the world, just one messed-up orphan. And Russell isn't looking to take over the world, he just wants retribution on those who wronged him. It's all very low-key compared to the planet-hopping odyssey that is Infinity War; it doesn't feel like an "event", per se, just another adventure. Describing it in that way almost makes the events of the plot seem unimportant, but that's hardly the case. Deadpool 2 and it's predecessor are largely character-driven, from the plot to the jokes, so that kind of small-scale, unorthodox approach suits this irreverent kind of spoof just fine.

Make no mistake, though, this isn't just another retread. Everything you loved about Deadpool is here, but better. A bigger budget means better special effects, so while the action is still relatively up-close and personal (care of John Wick director, David Leitch), the movie is free to get a little more creative with its use of gore and dismemberment. It also feels far more self-assured in its sense of humor than our first outing did; Deadpool was a tremendous risk for the studio when it was released, so it's understandable that the filmmakers would make an attempt to please as many people as they could. It's an approach I referred to as a "comedy shotgun" in my old Review of the first film; it doesn't matter if the jokes are hit-or-miss, so long as there are more hits than misses. 

With Deadpool 2, the referential humor (while still very much present) feels far more self-contained and relevant this time around. Compare the scene from the first film in which Wade refers to Gina Carano's character as "less-angry Rosie O'Donnell" (LOL, I 'MEMBER!) to Deadpool 2, where we see Cable get called "One-Eyed Willie" during an action sequence (both a surface-level visual gag and a reference to Josh Brolin's first appearance in a film). It just feels like, for the most part, it isn't trying quite so hard to be shockingly irreverent as the first one was; people know what to expect from a Deadpool film at this point, and while not every joke lands as hard as that Logan reference in the opening scene, it's definitely a more consistently funny comedy than its predecessor was. You can tell everyone involved learned and grew from their experiences with their first time around the block; they've found what works and now they're free to simply focus on crafting a fun, entertaining time.

The supporting cast (with the exception of T.J. Miller, who has completely regressed into irrelevance) is by and large excellent; it's great to see Stefan Kapicic and Brianna Hildebrand back as Colossus and Negasonic, and both Cable and Domino (Zazie Beetz) make for great additions to the gallery of straight-men for Deadpool to bounce off of. The only issue is that, not unlike the first film, it can sometimes feel as though we don't get to spend as much time with these characters as we would like. Cable in particular feels a little lacking in terms of screentime, considering how vital he is to the plot; his fluctuating good-cop-bad-cop dynamic with Wade makes for some of the most interesting and entertaining moments in the film (particularly during the finale), and it definitely leaves you wanting more (which I suppose is a good problem to have). At the same time, no one really feels overplayed either, so I suppose this approach of making Deadpool the primary focus while swapping out whichever character he's meant to interact with has both its benefits and its flaws.

I think it's also worth noting that your mileage may vary when it comes to the more emotionally straight-laced elements of the film. As a fan of the comics from which this character spawned, I greatly appreciate Ryan Reynolds and pals taking the time to inject a little heart and tragedy into the story of Wade Wilson, rather than just making him a taco-eating meme machine. It balances out some of the more outlandish comedic moments, but some will definitely find themselves wishing that the film would just get on with it, rather than coming to a full-stop every so often in order to hit the requisite emotional beats. It also doesn't help that, for all the sarcastic winks and nods the movie tosses towards various superhero clichés, it very much falls victim to several of the conventions it sets out to mock (most notably, an over-reliance on the status quo).

These hang-ups, it's worth noting, are very minor; all in all, I actually enjoyed Deadpool 2 much more than I did the first one. Perhaps it's simply because it's free from being bogged down by all the origin story boxes that the first Deadpool needed to tick, but I found this sequel to just be objectively better. For as crass and irreverent as it gets, there's an undoubted feeling of refinement in how the filmmakers serve up their cartoonishly brutal displays of viscera and toilet humor. Is it as emotionally-engaging and conceptually-ambitious as something like Infinity War? Not by a long shot, but then it's not exactly trying to be. Deadpool 2 is the lone pull-my-finger gag amidst the monolithic, multi-billion dollar industry that is the modern superhero genre; it sets out to keep everyone humble and smiling, and it goes about accomplishing this task with a sardonic grin on its face. My only hope is that, as Deadpool continues his steady rise to the top of the X-Men franchise, Ryan Reynolds and friends don't fly too close to the sun on future installments. We don't need a Deadpool Cinematic Universe; I'd be perfectly happy to get a solid, heartfelt action-comedy every few years (though some innovation definitely wouldn't hurt here and there). Seeing how they've approached Deadpool 2, I see no reason to temper my expectations for the inevitable third entry. I'll be there opening night, excited and ready for more.

REVIEW: Avengers Infinity War

Well, it's finally here. 10 years after Iron Man kicked off the modern superhero craze, 6 years after the first Avengers teased this particular storyline in its post-credits stinger, and just over two months since Black Panther set all those impressive box office records that this is inevitably going to demolish; Avengers: Infinity War is finally upon us. There are many who view this as the grand finale of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the designated jumping-off point for anyone (like myself) beginning to feel the strain of superhero fatigue. It's taken 18 movies over the past decade to get to this point, so it's understandable if it's all starting to feel like a bit much nowadays. Having at long last seen Infinity War, I can safely say that Joe and Anthony Russo have accomplished the impossible; not only have they crafted a blockbuster with over 30 main characters that doesn't feel like an incoherent mess, they have reignited my excitement for the latent potential of the MCU, leaving me to eagerly await whatever comes next.

The film begins directly after the post-credits scene of Thor Ragnarok, as we find the mad titan Thanos (Josh Brolin) making his way across the galaxy collecting the ubiquitous Infinity Stones, six glowy ingots that each control some basic element of existence. With all six stones, Thanos would possess the power of a literal god, a power he intends to use to wipe out half of all living things in the universe (all for the supposedly-altruistic goal of restoring cosmic balance, naturally). As one might expect, his plans put him in conflict not only with the recently broken-up Avengers, but with the Guardians of the Galaxy as well. What follows is a two and a half hour long event, taking us from the streets of Manhattan to the far reaches of space, and right about now is probably a good time to mention that there will be mild, implicit spoilers from this point onward. I'm not going to be outright stating what happens to whom, but this isn't the kind of thing you'll want to read if you intend to go in totally blind. So once more, for the people in the back:

SPOILER ALERT: the remainder of this Review reveals certain plot elements of Avengers: Infinity War!

The most immediately striking thing about this movie, for me, was how smartly put-together it was. When describing this movie, it's understandable to assume it would sail about as smoothly as the Titanic; it's got over 30 superheroes in it and acts as a sequel/finale to 17 other movies (I'm not counting Ant-Man since Scott Lang isn't present here), all while acting as a part one to it's own finale. Balancing a stage full of spinning plates isn't even an apt metaphor, it's more like the Russos are balancing live tigers on top of lit sticks of dynamite while riding a tilt-a-whirl. There's no shortage of things that could go wrong with a situation like this, but it's obvious that everyone involved in the production of Infinity War was perfectly cognizant of these possibilities and did everything in their power to avoid making any fatal mistakes (not unlike a certain Sorcerer Supreme).

I've seen a fair share of critics accuse this film of being an exercise in excess, and I can only assume said critics are completely new to the superhero genre. Infinity War shows a frankly miraculous level of restraint in how it doles out its eye-candy; there's no headache-inducing, nigh-incomprehensible action bukkake here like you'd find in Age of Ultron or X-Men: Apocalypse. We aren't given an extended sequence where all 30+ characters attack Thanos at the same time, reducing the screen to an eye-melting visual cacophony of CGI laser beams; instead, everyone is divvied up into teams and given something important to do. Everyone has a plot line to contribute to and, as such, everyone feels as though they matter to some degree. Naturally some characters are more prominent than others (Doctor Strange and Thor play much bigger roles than Okoye and the Winter Soldier, for instance), but no one really feels completely tertiary or useless. It doesn't revel in its own scale this early on, not while there's still half a story left to be told in next year's Avengers: Untitled (a daring, but unique naming convention, if I do say so myself).

The filmmakers knew that, going in, all of our most pressing questions would involve Thanos. All he's done for the past decade is sit in a chair, so they waste no time at all in establishing him as a credible threat. How do they do this? By showing him beating the incredible Hulk (Mark Ruffalo) into submission with nothing but his bare hands in the first five minutes of the movie. The character that has been a trump card for essentially every film he's appeared in is dispatched in the very first scene and doesn't appear again for the rest of the movie (fake trailer shots like the one above are a trend I wholeheartedly endorse, incidentally). The inevitable rematch is something we're denied until the next Avengers film comes out; while some may find this unsatisfying, all it does is make me even more excited for next May.

I also appreciated how Infinity War refuses to waste its audience's time. We've waited this long to get here, so there's no justifiable excuse for any filler. There's a scene near the end of the first act where a broken and battered Thor (Chris Hemsworth) comes across the Guardians of the Galaxy. After an offhand mention that Gamora (Zoe Saldana) is Thanos' daughter, Thor begins to dramatically advance on her while the other Guardians try to fast-talk their way out of a godly beating. Things grow tense for just a moment, only for Thor to pat Gamora on the shoulder and remark "family can be tough". In a lesser film, we'd surely be subjected to a 5-10 minute action sequence where Thor fights the Guardians of the Galaxy over a misunderstanding. It would accomplish nothing beyond padding the runtime with more unnecessary action and feel like a trite waste of our time which, in a movie that's already well over two hours long, is something we cannot abide. Instead, Infinity War makes the mature choice to forego mindless action in favor of a small character moment. It knows exactly what it wants to accomplish and adjusts its priorities accordingly; we've already had entire movies about Black Panther (Chadwick Boseman) and Spider-Man (Tom Holland). This one is all about Thanos.

With the recent addition of characters like Killmonger, Ego the Living Planet, and the Vulture to the MCU pantheon, there've been rumblings that Marvel's supposed "villain problem" is finally over. Nowhere is this better illustrated than in Infinity War's handling of Thanos; Josh Brolin is far and above the breakout star here, delivering a performance that more than lives up to nearly ten years of hints and teases. I haven't been this taken with a villain performance since Heath Ledger's turn as the Joker in The Dark Knight, screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely have somehow found a way to take a giant purple cartoon character who has done nothing but sit in a chair for the past decade and turn him into the most nuanced Marvel antagonist this side of Loki (Tom Hiddleston). I've seen a lot of people praising Thanos' motives as being relatable, which I honestly don't understand; his motivation for enacting a universe-wide culling is essentially to preserve resources and vastly improve the quality of life for those who survive (rather than an obsessive infatuation with Lady Death, as seen in the comics). His logic is inherently flawed (considering he could just make more resources appear with a snap of his fingers), but then that's sort of the point; he is the mad titan, and the film makes it perfectly clear that Thanos is insane. He truly believes in his heart of hearts that he's doing the right thing, that he's the iron-willed savior of life as we know it, and that's what makes him such a tangible threat. He isn't simply evil because (as the misleading trailers put it) murdering billions of people puts a smile on his face. He's the hero of his own story; if you watch Infinity War as a film where Thanos is the protagonist, the seemingly odd structure and pacing suddenly make perfect sense. This is a movie where the main character is the villain. It's got a horrifying, depressing, downer of an ending, unless you're watching from Thanos' perspective, in which case everything worked out exactly the way it was supposed to.

The film also takes an opportunity to put other, less prominent Avengers in the spotlight; after Infinity War, I think my favorite character in the entirety of the MCU may be Thor, which is an insane testament to how far we've come. Between Thor: The Dark World and Infinity War, the God of Thunder has been re-worked from a complete jobber with exactly one joke ("I say mortals, what is this "Twitter" you all speak of? Is it anything like the Casket of Ancient Winters???") into a true king who's lost everything. By the time he meets the Guardians in Infinity War, he's lost his family, his friends, his kingdom, his home, his hammer, and his eye, and we finally get a feel for how all of this senseless loss has affected him deep down. My favorite scene in the entire movie is a quiet moment between Thor and Rocket Raccoon (Bradley Cooper), in which his typical bravado is slowly chipped away as we see him truly begin to process his grief. Chris Hemsworth has truly come into his own with this character and I'm praying to Odin and Frigga and all the powers that be that he's not among the deceased in the next Avengers outing. I also came out really enjoying Benedict Cumberbatch's Doctor Strange, who (much like in Thor: Ragnarok) seems to shine best when he's got some other parts of the MCU to bounce off of. Special kudos must also be awarded to Tom Holland, who feels more like Spider-Man here than in any other MCU film (including his own).

With a budget falling somewhere between $300 and $400 million, Infinity War is easily one of the most expensive films ever made; and boy does it look it (can you imagine how embarrassing it would be if the visuals here were complete and utter trash?). It's safe to say that most Marvel movies don't look bad when it comes to their use of CGI, but this is the first time in a very long while where I've actually been impressed by the visual effects in a blockbuster like this. We've reached a sort of singularity where the visuals all mesh together perfectly, and we start to forget that characters like Thanos are made entirely inside a computer. Spider-Man has lost that offputting, overly-animated action figure look he had in Civil War and Homecoming, and I don't even bat an eye when I see Rocket Raccoon and Groot (Vin Diesel) interacting with a room full of real humans. This is also the first film to be shot entirely with IMAX cameras, so perhaps that distinction added something to the visual fidelity we're left to enjoy. When you're dealing with something of this scale, it's important that the action never feels overly-cluttered, and that's something the visual effects artists completely nailed.

The cinematography (care of longtime Russo collaborator, Trent Opaloch) is also quite good, maintaining the Russos' standard up-close-and-personal approach while (for the most part) ditching the requisite shaky-cam we find in The Winter Soldier and Civil War (I suppose shaking an IMAX camera would be both very difficult and potentially very expensive). One sequence in particular that I absolutely adore happens very early on, when two members of Thanos' Black Order (The Ebony Maw, played by Tom Vaughan-Lawlor, and Cull Obsidian, played by Terry Notary) do battle on the streets of New York with Iron Man (Robert Downy Jr), Doctor Strange, Spider-Man, and Wong (Benedict Wong). The beginning of the sequence, where we see the Black Order's ship descending on Bleeker Street, is shot entirely from street-level; we see the ship for the first time the same time Stark and Strange do, and it's this choice of camera angle (along with the seat-rattling sound design) that makes this sequence so immersive. Imagine being a civilian in a post-Avengers NYC; there's a big donut-shaped spacecraft ominously humming above a residential neighborhood and Tony Stark is running towards it alongside two wizards. Things are about to get real. It's a feeling I haven't gotten from one of these movies since I saw the first Avengers film back in 2012, and I think it's Infinity War's ability to not only recapture that same feeling, but to improve upon it that has me so taken with it.

Really, that sums up my entire takeaway here; Avengers was an unforgettable experience the first time I saw it, but it mostly coasts by on spectacle alone. Once you've seen it, it's never quite as good on repeat viewings (especially when you're at home and not in a theater). Infinity War, on the other hand, has so much more to offer right off the bat; already, I'm able to appreciate it on a level beyond the sheer scale of it all. Despite all my praise, it's not quite a perfect film. There are definitely some who will find the length and pacing exhausting, while others will be disappointed in how much screentime is given to certain characters (you can definitely tell this was made before Black Panther went on to make over a billion dollars, and I'm pretty sure Captain America has less than ten lines in the entire thing), but these minor speedbumps can't change the fact that this is an expertly-crafted event of a film that more than lives up to the hype Marvel Studios has spent so much time building. Anyone dismissing this for not feeling like a standard Marvel movie or requiring viewers to do their due-diligence in keeping up with the MCU canon is completely missing the point of this movie; this is not your traditional Marvel movie. At the same time, those who are quick to write off the numerous character deaths as "inconsequential" fail to realize that, in this situation, it's very much about the journey rather than the destination (mainly because we haven't reached the destination just yet). It should be obvious to anyone over the age of 10 that a number of the characters killed off in Infinity War will return for the next Avengers outing, but that doesn't invalidate this film's contributions to the overarching, multi-film narrative that is the MCU.

Avengers: Infinity War is a dark, daring blockbuster that soundly breaks the modern superhero movie mold while upholding and celebrating all the elements that made the genre the box office behemoth it is today. It's a modern-day Empire Strikes Back; in 20-30 years, when we ask the new generation of filmmakers what movie inspired them to pursue such a career, I would be shocked if at least one of them didn't cite Infinity War as the film that changed their life forever. It's a new high for the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and it made a True Believer out of me all over again. Go check it out.

REVIEW: Thor Ragnarok

It feels like, consistently, out of all of Marvel's characters, Thor and Hulk always get the short end of the stick. Not only are they arguably the two Avengers that are hardest to take seriously, their considerable power levels lead to them either mysteriously disappearing or getting conveniently dispatched during most group action sequences (because let's face it, it's a lot easier to make compelling action setpieces when hordes of CGI henchmen are going up against squishy humans with fancy toys rather than two invulnerable flying bricks). It's really a shame, because these two have such amazing potential that has never really been realized in the span of the MCU; The Incredible Hulk (back when Bruce Banner looked mysteriously like Edward Norton) is fun but standard, and the previous two Thor films are easily the most forgettable entries into Marvel's cinematic universe. It seemed like a stroke of genius taking the two most under-appreciated (not to mention, under-utilized) Avengers and putting them in the same film, especially since their buddies/rivals dynamic has been a highlight of previous team-ups. While Thor Ragnarok is by no means a game-changer, it was definitely a lot of lovingly-crafted fun.

The plot takes place two years after the events of Age of Ultron, highlighting exactly what Thor and Hulk were busy doing while that whole Civil War mess was going down. After unsuccessfully attempting to track down the Infinity Gems and running afoul of the Norse demon known as Surtur (voiced by the one and only owner of the Krusty Krab, Clancy Brown), Thor (Chris Hemsworth) finds himself at long last returning to his home of Asgard. As we saw at the end of Thor: The Dark World, Loki (Tom Hiddelston) has taken advantage of his brother's long absence, disguising himself as their father, Odin (Anthony Hopkins) and seizing control of the throne. This leads to a chain of events that results in the return of Hela (Cate Blanchette), Odin's firstborn daughter and goddess of death. After failing to stop their vengeful sister from returning to Asgard, Thor and Loki find themselves flung into the far reaches of space, landing on the gladiatorial planet known as Sakaar (run by the flamboyant Grandmaster, played by the immortal Jeff Goldblum). Once there, who should they run into but the everlovin' Hulk (Mark Ruffalo), who's spent the last two years on Sakaar as the Grandmaster's champion. With Hela seizing control of Asgard, it's up to the mighty Thor to assemble what allies he can, escape Sakaar, return home, and prevent the coming of Rangarok; the end of all things.

While I very much appreciate Marvel beginning to step out of their comfort zone when it comes to the premise of these films (Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 ended with the team fighting a living planet, after all), it still feels as though they're too timid to fully commit to something totally wild and original. Even with its bombastic sense of humor and planet-hopping storyline, Thor Ragnarok is still, at its core, your standard "we gotta get home and stop the bad guy from taking over" plot. It very much feels as though director Taika Waititi (who created one of my favorite comedies of all time) and the executives at Marvel Studios had two different visions of what this movie should be. Waititi clearly wanted an offbeat cosmic road movie, while Marvel seemed to have a checklist of criteria that needed to be fulfilled in order to set up future event films in the MCU. There's a number of major events and character deaths that don't receive nearly the amount of attention one might expect, and that sense of unbalance and disharmony ends up taking a toll on the film as a whole.

After Thor ends up on Sakaar, the film splits into two storylines; Thor trying to get home, and Hela seizing control of Asgard. Obviously, the two converge during the final act, but I found myself feeling a real sense of tonal dissonance. Everything on Sakaar is more or less comedic (especially when Jeff Goldblum is on screen) and everything on Asgard is 100% serious (especially when Hela is on screen). Not to say that things felt jarring or uneven (each storyline was tonally consistent in its own way), but it made the film feel like it was in conflict with itself. The Asgard storyline feels like a fantasy action/drama, where supporting characters are brutally offed on-screen and innocent families are forced into hiding for their own protection. Meanwhile, the Sakaar storyline feels like a sci-fi comedy/adventure, full of slapstick and comedic subversions. The film's habit of cutting back and forth between each storyline with every scene results in a sort of water and oil situation, where the film struggles with developing a consistent identity.

I don't mean to keep bringing up Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, but seeing as how that might just be my favorite MCU movie, it ends up being a fine example of how to craft exactly the sort of film Marvel Studios should strive to make. Despite being very comedic in tone, the constant jokes didn't really clash with the drama; we still felt for the characters and cared about their stories. The comedy is used as a way to get the audience invested in and attached to the characters, rather than simply as a way to make everyone laugh; James Gunn understood this well enough that, by the time the movie is over, there was hardly a dry eye in the theater (despite the final shot consisting of a talking CGI raccoon at a space funeral). It's important not to lose track of that human element, which is something that both Spider-Man Homecoming and Thor Ragnarok struggle with. It's something I touch on in my Wonder Woman Review, how many Marvel movies seem to default to lighthearted action comedy as a way of dispelling the tension that arises when you expect an audience to actually take a flying space viking seriously. Usually it works out well enough, but relying too much on undercutting drama with a joke can make the film predictable. Don't get me wrong, Ragnarok is a very funny movie (I would expect no less from Taika Waititi), but by the third act it had gotten to the point where I didn't take anything at face value. Whenever the music began to swell and something dramatic was about to happen, I immediately thought to myself "what would be the most obvious way to make this scene funny"; cue exactly that happening mere seconds later.

The film's breakneck pace also contributes to this lack of emotional attachment; despite clocking in at just over two hours, there are plenty of elements at play here that don't get nearly the amount of attention we'd hope for. There's never really a dull moment or a stretch of the film where I felt bored (which, don't get me wrong, is excellent), but it also feels like we didn't get enough time with some of the exciting new elements they introduced this time around. There's exactly one gladiator fight (despite how much of the plot takes place on Sakaar), Jeff Goldblum doesn't get nearly as many scenes as he deserves (although this is true of every movie ever made), and a number of character deaths feel brushed over. Karl Urban appears as Skurge the Executioner and, judging from his performance, he could have easily been my favorite part of the entire film, had he been given more attention. This is a film with little to no fat on it, but in removing the excess, they seem to have cut off some of the good meat as well. The opening scene might be my favorite in the entire movie; it's a fun, exciting action sequence that really hypes you up to watch the mighty Thor in action. But from that point on, Thor is removed from the Asgard plot until the climax and thrust into a new setting that isn't really given a chance to shine whenever Jeff Goldblum isn't onscreen. Despite the entertaining cast, this is a movie where the plot is driven moreso by the story rather than the characters.

Now despite all my issues, I think it's worth noting that I really did enjoy myself with Ragnarok. After years of desperately trying to find his MCU niche, it feels like we've finally gotten to a place with the character of Thor where he can really come into his own as a protagonist. While I never really felt the kind of emotions I got with something like Guardians 2, I really can't emphasize what a fun, endearing road movie this is. Jack "The King" Kirby would have turned 100 this year, and this film feels like the ultimate tribute to his influence on Marvel's comics; it's a whacked-out cosmic fantasy romp full of weird aliens and weirder architecture, where ancient mythologies and deep-space civilizations collide. There's even a strong focus on the classic "Kirby Dots" during the credits; this is a classic-era Marvel story with a modern twist, and the result is just a load of fun. The main cast all give strong performances and play off of each other wonderfully; I especially liked Tom Hiddelston as Loki this time around. Not only does he continue to show off what a genuinely solid comedic actor he is, but his arc is easily the most interesting, as he comes to terms with the fact that, while he may be more clever than his big, dumb jock of a brother, he still hasn't accomplished much, despite all of his supposed intellect and trickery. While it's true that there's not much here in the way of ingenuity, you'd be hard pressed to sit through this without having a good, fun time.

Despite its shortcomings, Thor Ragnarok is still a thoroughly enjoyable romp that is really quite hard to dislike. While it's not necessarily among the absolute best of the MCU, it's very easily the best Thor movie to date; it's an offbeat space adventure with a lot of laughs and imagination that has an unfortunate habit of getting in its own way. While I'd still like to see Thor done with a bit more sincerity, what's here is in no way bad or disappointing. There's a load of great performances and some really excellent cinematography, all framed around a delightfully quirky score care of DEVO's Mark Mothersbaugh. If the film did nothing else, it finally accomplished what so many MCU films have tried to do for so long; it gave Chris Hemsworth's Thor something fun and interesting to do. It's not my favorite MCU film by any means, but I definitely got a kick out of it; check it out.

Hey wait a minute, where the hell was Lady Sif?