Superheroes are becoming too big for their boots
Are superheroes getting ideas above their station? Their takeover of Hollywood is unstoppable, as is the recruitment drive of emerging talent from across the world to direct and star in their films. The endless popularity of these men in Spandex, and this year a woman in body armour, prompts an evergrowing clamour among devotees that we take them seriously as works of art – or possible Oscar contenders, which would be a first.
But all is not lost. Here comes Justice League to put the genre right back in its place, by reminding us how shoddy and maladroit the production line can be. Released this week, it is Warner Bros’ attempt to corral all the stars of its DC Comics – Batman, Wonder Woman, and three others we’ve barely met – into a gang’s-all-here supernova, much like Marvel’s The Avengers.
While critics generally admit that this choppy, panicky film is a little better than its predecessors – Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice and Suicide Squad – this isn’t saying much. Will the reviews matter? Not particularly. The film is on track to make $325million (£246million) worldwide just in its first week of release, and you can triple that for its lifetime. Critics can’t do much to hurt these productions, and the purpose of the films is certainly not to please us. It’s a bonus for the studios when one comes along that actually gets the thumbs up, like the zippy and unpretentious Thor: Ragnarok, or
It is difficult to consider any of these films art – and always will be
the widely welcomed (but weirdly overpraised) Wonder Woman.
There are smooth days on the assembly line, where everything clicks together nicely, and Jeff Goldblum, say, is handed a bright comeback opposite Thor. And then there are off days, where gears fall off, cogs grind in the conveyor, and Jesse Eisenberg gives that excruciating performance in Batman v Superman. Results may vary, but the process is mercilessly the same. And this is why it is difficult to consider any of these films art – and always will be.
They’re a product: designed to be avidly consumed by as many teenage boys as possible, while also keeping popcorn sales up in multiplexes from Timbuktu to Kalamazoo. If we want to get really cynical, some of the films feel like they only exist to get the next one made, introducing new characters for literally no other reason.
Yep, some are great fun, with the whizz-bang addictiveness of a sugar rush, but that’s not to say that these should be taken any more seriously than the bad ones. The worst are often the ones begging the hardest for that very esteem. And there’s something meat-headed about the cries that come around every awards season for these studio tentpoles to be validated as art. Ponder for a minute the absurdity of weighing up (say) 12 Years a Slave and Iron Man 3 for the same accolade.
Wonder Woman, the most profitable live-action film ever directed by a woman, is getting a hefty push from Warner Brothers to be nominated for Best Picture and Director (Patty Jenkins). To date, no superhero film has made it this far up the ladder of Academy respect, a prejudice that routinely bothers fans. Tantrums were thrown in 2008, when Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight was tipped for a Best Picture nomination and didn’t get one.
Titanic and The Return of the King are examples of effects-driven blockbuster cinema that did sweep the board. And George Miller’s Mad Max: Fury Road, a sequel-cum-reboot that is pretty close to serving up a comic-book aesthetic, was a rare feat, critically adored as well as being a blistering audience ride: a picture with heart, soul, guts and brains.
The difference between Miller’s film and Wonder Woman, so imitative of the rival Marvel style that it virtually amounts to Thor with a sex change, just comes down to the former’s absolute distinctiveness. Miller’s creativity is light years away from the assembly line: critics knew it, audiences saw it, and the film ascended to art.
Perhaps, in our dreams, George Miller might be able to magic a DC superhero film up to that level. A decade ago, he was even attached to direct one. But the odds are massively against it, as they’re against anyone – the gifted Patty Jenkins included – who takes their turn as foreman on the factory floor.