Logo
    Search

    Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice - Review

    en-usApril 03, 2016

    About this Episode

    Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice is the cinematic equivalent of a nineteen-year-old atheist putting down "Nihilist" as his religious affiliation on his Facebook. Whoa. So edgy, bro. The grimmest superhero movie since The Dark Knight, Batman v. Superman shares much of the earlier film’s cynicism about both God and Man, and like its immediate predecessor, Man of Steel, it overtly embraces theological language and symbolism, playing with the concepts of God, power, and responsibility. It revolves around a distinctly democratic question, one for our times: can we trust God when he has all the power? And if a man has God-like power, how, then, must we treat him? Worship or crucify? Crown with thorns or coronets?

    Unfortunately, it handles this question with all the grace of a sledgehammer.

    First of all, God. It’s hard to really get a handle on Henry Cavill’s Clark Kent, the chisel-jawed hero who saved Earth from alien invasion in the previous film. He’s handsome and suave, flies around with panache, and is generally a complete blank of a character. The world sees him as an Olympian hero and erects statues of a great muscled form condescending from on high to save humanity. It’s no accident the film came out on Good Friday: it includes a sequence of Superman lifted up amid death-masked worshippers, a perverse resurrection. It seems less like gratitude and more like a cult.

    Because simple heroism doesn't exist anymore, worship begins to turn to suspicion. In the aftermath of the destruction caused by Superman’s initial rise (narrative cruelty in the first movie much maligned by film critics), people are beginning to question whether he really is such a Boy Scout. Can the people trust him to handle his power rightly? What defense can we have against him?

    In humanity’s corner is Ben Affleck (who's terrific) as Batman. An older, weathered dark knight, he traffics with gangsters, thieves, and terrorists to track down the red-caped god. Unlike Superman, his origin is in tragedy, a fact emphasized from the first moments of the story. Bruce Wayne’s childhood was brought to an abrupt end with two gunshots in an alleyway—an ignominious and meaningless crime that erased the lives of his parents. Young Bruce, screaming, crumples to the ground beneath a billboard promoting Excalibur, his destiny bequeathed to him as one untimely born—not as a man of maturity, but as a boy prematurely bereaved. (Contrast with Superman, who was raised by loving parents and therefore still maintained beliefs in destiny and meaning.)

    Forged in tragedy, this hero has a massive chip on his shoulder and a settled cynicism about blithe, clean-shaven heroes like Superman. Jesse Eisenberg (who is not terrific) as a hyper Lex Luthor is just as bleak: “Devils don’t come from hell beneath us. They come from the sky.” When asked to introduce himself, Luthor says he is…“just a man.”

    These are all reasonably interesting issues, but the movie really has no idea how to deal with them. We're Americans, so we have to start with politicians attempting to rein Superman in (cuz democracy). That solution is playing around with, and then dropped abruptly (Mrs. Incredible gave it her best go, quoting Ian Malcolm almost exactly). Batman brought to bear his fists and ability to have wacky dreams that have nothing to do with the plot but do set up other franchise movies. Lex Luthor...well, I really have no idea what he does, but it's weird, and ends up being something totally ridiculous.

    In the end, Batman and Superman's interpersonal issues are solved when the two of them recognize an obvious fact: Superman is not, in fact, God (just to show how Marvel is superior, Captain America sorted this theological problem out in no time flat). That this involves the two of them bonding over - should I spoil this? I'm going to spoil this - the names of their mothers is about the lamest thing the film could come up with (taking notes from Chris Carter, maybe) to solve its problems.

    Maybe it would be different if I cared about the characters, but Superman is boring, and while Affleck is good, he gets very little help from the script. Other characters? Amy Adams tries. Diane Lane is there for five seconds. Gal Gadot is more interesting than either of our brooding titular heroes, but is completely superfluous to the plot. Alfred, who looks like Eric Metaxas, doesn't really bring much gravitas or emotional weight to the story.

    As far as emotional weight goes, the closest thing we get is the way the film ends, which does, I'll admit, pack some punch. But not enough. Goodness and power cannot coexist, the film claims darkly. Everyone is corrupted in this world! Sure, sure. Very trendy and not terribly original, nihilism. Give me a sunset, any day. Or just a red cape.

    Hannah Long

    Recent Episodes from The Pilgrim's Podcast

    Rogue One - Review

    Rogue One - Review
    Image result for rogue one

    This movie is a peculiar thing. It's the first time the Star Wars film franchise has stepped away from the main saga, but it's still very much concerned with the same set of events that occupied the Skywalker twins.

    Nevertheless, Rogue One is very much a product of its time. While the original series drew on a mythic conception of war, Rogue One has a much more modern take on conflict and the toll it takes. If A New Hope was about World War II, Rogue One is about the War on Terror. Instead of clearly-drawn moral lines and an archetypal battle of good against evil, we get a gritty war of attrition, avoiding hopelessness by the slimmest of margins.

    Our protagonist is Jyn Erso, a petty criminal, recruited by the Rebel Alliance to track down her father. Galen Erso is an imperial scientist working on the Death Star, forcibly separated from his daughter many years before. (What's the Rebel Alliance? What's the Death Star? The Empire? Who's fighting whom? You have to know your Star Wars to make sense of all this, as this movie is even more meta than The Force Awakens.)

    Galen has hidden a fatal weakness at the heart of the Empire's weapon. It's up to Jyn to find her father, obtain the plans for the weapon, and identify the weakness, thereby making possible the plot of A New Hope.

    Jyn is joined by Captain Caspian - sorry, Cassian Andor and his partner, K-2SO, who functions as a cross between Chewbacca and C-3PO. A rogue imperial pilot and two vigilantes, (Bodhi Rook, Chirrut Îmwe, and Baze Malbus respectively) are the other members of the Rogue One team.

    Got all that straight? Well, me neither. I had to google most of the character names after watching Rogue One, and that pretty much summarizes the film's greatest weakness: its characters. Rogue One is full of non-entities, vague character sketches adhering to only the barest of archetypes. The feisty orphan heroine. The morally ambiguous captain. The hyper-efficient warrior priest. They feel like the cast of a typical heist flick, but while, in that genre, we usually learn the motivation of each character, here we get little to nothing.

    Even Jyn's motivations remain mysterious. Her main reason for joining the team is to find her father, but why she then risks her life to defend his principles is never explained. We always assume she's going to help the Rebellion, and there is no real question as to what decisions she will make. This lack of conflict means the first half of the movie feels predictable and rote.

    As for Cassian, he's just here to demonstrate War is Complicated. When we first meet Cassian he's rendezvousing with an informant in a seedy part of town. He ends up murdering the grass and fleeing the scene. When, later, he joins Jyn's quest to find her father, he's really planning to assassinate Galen Erso for the Rebellion. Why does he decide not to do this? No idea. He's an utter blank of a character: more immoral than Han Solo and with none of the spark or charm.

    That could describe most of the other characters (and the film itself). While Luke Skywalker lived a carefree life on the Outer Rim, these people exist directly under the Empire's sway. Their world is brutal and chaotic, torn by violence that calls to mind Middle Eastern guerrilla warfare. Cloaked and masked rebels fight storm troopers in tight, sandy streets. The line between the Rebellion and the Empire - so clear in the original trilogy - is here blurred and ambiguous. The Force mostly presents a way to efficiently slaughter enemies. The magic and spirituality of the original trilogy is missing, replaced by a calculating, strategic approach to the war. This is a film about soldiers; A New Hope was a film about priests.

    (Spoilers below)

    By the end of the movie, that fact is clear. And it's by becoming a war film instead of a heist film or a fantasy that Rogue One finds its purpose at last. The final third is a satisfying, intense battle sequence that ends with a pulse-pounding, suspenseful relay race through a violent corridor.

    The last scene drives home just how much the Rebellion has placed its trust in a desperate gamble - a fool's hope. As Jyn notes, "rebellions are built on hope," and that concept was always Rogue One's strongest theme. Galen Erso, working away in the heart of the Empire, quietly placing a flaw in the Death Star's design. Jyn Erso, sneaking into an Imperial facility to steal the plans - helped every step of the way by the sacrifices of her companions. Ultimately: the faceless rebels who desperately shove the plans into the hands of Princess Leia. G.K. Chesterton once wrote "Every man is important if he loses his life" - and that goes for dull, one-dimensional characters as well.

    The fulfillment of the film's strongest theme, along with a gutsy ending, saves Rogue One from mediocrity, but between its weak characters and reliance on intertextuality, it relies too heavily on tired blockbuster conventions. The Force Awakens' characters were underdeveloped, but they're Shakespearean compared to these cardboard cutouts. Rogue One's hat-tips to the original trilogy were more like blaring signs - Look! Blue Milk! - and the CGI necromancy was entertaining but a little creepy. It's a movie that clumsily attempts to fill in the blanks in the plot, but only seldom does so in a way that illuminates and enhances the rest of the series.

    Jon Pertwee's Doctor observed that "a straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no means the most interesting." The challenge for Rogue One, then, was to tell a story with a known end and a known beginning, and endeavor to avoid making the journey a straight line. It tries its best, but while it's an interesting change in genre for the franchise, Rogue One is still too predictable a journey from A to B.

    Hannah Long
    The Pilgrim's Podcast
    en-usDecember 19, 2016