Marvel Cinematic Universe: Marvel's The Avengers (Retrospective)

Marvel's The Avengers (2012)

After four years and five films of teases and buildup, The Avengers landed with no small amount of fanfare and unusually positive reviews. The experiment to fold a group of individually popular superheroes together into a single, cohesive story paid off in spades, and it's easy to see why. Almost ten years since it first released, The Avengers remains a well-crafted, engaging, and funny action-adventure spectacle.

When Thor villain Loki (Tom Hiddleston) returns at the behest of a mysterious new master, he arrives on Earth as a harbinger of worse things to come. Meant to pave the way for a coming alien invasion, he wastes little time in decimating S.H.I.E.L.D., placing Clint Barton (Jeremy Renner) and Erik Selvig (Stellan Skarsgård, returning from Thor) under some kind of mind control, prompting Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) to finally call in the team he's been building. While Natasha Romanoff (Scarlett Johansson) retrieves Dr. Bruce Banner (portrayed here by Mark Ruffalo, replacing Edward Norton), Phil Coulson (Clark Gregg) approaches Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) and Fury himself ropes in Steve Rogers (Chris Evans). The team comes together to capture Loki, and it isn't long before Thor (Chris Hemsworth) joins the party to round out the cast.

For being such a big, bombastic movie, the plot is relatively straightforward and relies on the tried-and-true "the villain secretly wants to be captured" twist that became so popular in the wake of the The Dark Knight (2008). It's not a hard twist to see coming, which is probably why the film smartly telegraphs this early on. Rather than muddle through an overly complicated plot in a film that is, by nature, stuffed full of characters, The Avengers wisely focuses on those characters and their relationships. This is where all the magic occurs. It's a thrill watching Iron Man butt heads with Captain America, and good fun to see the mighty Thor come to blows with the incredible Hulk. The vast majority of the film is spent letting the team work out the kinks in their internal structure, which is why the finale is such a rousing payoff. When the Avengers finally come together behind Captain America and begin to function like a well-oiled machine, we get the sense that this dream team is unstoppable.

It's hard to fault the film for not taking itself too seriously, because that's never been the point. These films know exactly what they are and what they want to be, and are content to play within the confines of the comic book genre. Perhaps this is the most refreshing approach to the source material, because watching The Avengers feels very much like reading one of the comic books from which these characters and stories are adapted. Just like comic books are not high literature, The Avengers doesn't set out to be the Citizen Kane of the modern era. Because of this, the film comes across as having an unusual amount of confidence in both its characters and execution. I suspect this has a lot to do with the fact that the characters had already been established in the films leading up to this one, and because each of the actors were already comfortable in their respective roles, allowing for a kind of freedom and playfulness not commonly seen in these kinds of big summer blockbusters.

The Avengers is certainly not a perfect film. The final sequence rolls on for a few minutes too long, and the characters (except for Banner) all pretty much reach peak development by the end of the second act. Taken on its own, separate from the continuity of the established MCU, The Avengers has all the depth and nuance of an airbrush painting. It's pretty to look at, but there's not much there by way of substance. Black Widow carries the weight of the most important conversations, the first with Banner, the second with Barton after he's been freed from Loki's mind control. The rest is all sound and color. But, the film isn't exactly meant to be taken on its own. No, it's firmly planted within a specific context, and sort of expects viewers to already be familiar with its characters. If you're looking for character development, this film probably isn't going to satisfy. But if you're just looking to see all of these iconic characters come together in an all-out blockbuster of a flick, then The Avengers is for you.

Marvel and its collaborators struck gold with this film. The cinematic universe only expands after this landmark movie, eventually blossoming into a full-blown cultural phenomenon the likes of which hasn't been seen since the release of the original Star Wars trilogy. Regardless of the numerous movies and sequels that will go on to populate the MCU, none of them will really recapture the magic of The Avengers, when these heroes all assembled on the big screen for the first time.

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Captain America: The First Avenger (Retrospective)

After a plethora of dark knights, tortured heroes, and spoiled brats learning to go straight, viewing a film as good-natured as Marvel's Captain America: The First Avenger comes as a breath of fresh air in a genre threatened with staleness. Having met Tony, Bruce, and Thor, we are finally introduced to Captain America—the star-spangled man with a plan. Functioning as the Marvel analogue to DC's Superman, he fights for truth, justice, and, quite literally, the American way.

Marvel's Captain America: The First Avenger

The framework story follows the exploits of S.H.I.E.L.D., the shadowy organization led by Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson), as they seek to recover the long-lost Captain America for reasons unknown. The narrative proper begins when the film catapults us back to an alternate version of World War II. Here we meet Steve Rogers (Chris Evans), a scrawny young man who is a patriot at heart and wants nothing more than to join the Allied fight against the Axis powers. But, despite numerous attempts, a plethora of health conditions have prevented him from enlisting. When his best friend, James "Bucky" Barnes (Sebastian Stan), prepares to ship out, he has a conversation with Rogers that's overheard by Abraham Erskine (Stanley Tucci). Erskine is immediately taken with Rogers's heart and determination, and schemes to have the young man enlisted in a special program headed up by Colonel Chester Phillips (Tommy Lee Jones), your typical military curmudgeon, and overseen by Peggy Carter (Hayley Atwell), a spitfire of a British officer.

Seemingly against all odds, Rogers is chosen from the program's candidates to undergo a unique super-soldier experiment. In one of the film's best moments, Erskine explains to Rogers why he's been chosen. It has nothing to do with his physical capabilities, but because of his character and heart. Unlike Tony, Bruce, and Thor, Steve is already formed and well-adjusted. He's a true hero, through and through, brave and courageous despite what's stacked against him. So, Rogers undergoes the experiment, and emerges the perfect specimen of a human soldier, but he's got a moral compass already honed to a fine point. Of course, government suits try to get involved and Phillips tries to keep him off the front lines, but eventually he proves himself the hero we all know him to be when he liberates nearly 400 prisoners of war.

His adventures bring him into conflict with Johann Schmidt (Hugo Weaving), a confidante of Hitler's and leader of the terrorist organization known as HYDRA, as well as someone who takes Nazi occultism to extremes. He tampers with forbidden sciences all in the name of world domination, with hopes of eventually toppling Hitler himself. He's a kind of perfect antithesis for Captain America, having undergone a similar super-soldier experiment, only to turn inward. He's malformed and selfish, and Weaving portrays him with all the mustache-twirling glee one would expect from this kind of larger-than-life villain.

The side-characters we meet along the way are all likable, probably because the cast is rounded out by wonderful character actors like Neal McDonough as the husky "Dum Dum" Dugan. We also get a nice bit of connective tissue in the form of Dominic Cooper, who portrays the brilliant Howard Stark, who will eventually father Tony. And the whole thing ends on a surprisingly bittersweet note, as Captain America wakes up in the present day and meets Nick Fury, bringing the whole thing full circle.

Captain America: The First Avenger really is a fun film with a lot of heart. It doesn't have the quips and wisecracks or offbeat humor of Iron Man or Thor, nor does it put front and center a protagonist wrestling through personal conflicts, like The Incredible Hulk. Instead, what we have here is a film that works from a much older template, the kind of big, blockbuster action-adventure war movie that Hollywood used to revel in. If, in watching the previous MCU films, we learn to admit when we're wrong and how to grow, Captain America gives us a hero that we can look up to, an ideal to which we can aspire. Now that we've met Steve Rogers, the Avengers have found their leader. And all that's left for them to do is assemble.

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Thor (Retrospective)

Upon each viewing, I find myself enjoying the fourth film of the MCU immensely. By this point, the training wheels are off, and the production companies have plotted a firm course toward bringing the Avengers together, and the rest of the team must be introduced. In this way, Thor feels like a much freer film than Marvel's previous outing, Iron Man 2. Rather than trying to build out characters from the Iron Man movies, Thor pivots hard into new genres and territories. Much of the action unfolds on a cosmic playing field known as the Nine Realms, detailing a conflict between the realms of Asgard and Jotunheim. When Earth finally crops up in the story, it's almost a stopover for the broader conflict.

Marvel's Thor (2011)

When the brash Thor (Chris Hemsworth), son of the Asgardian king, Odin (Anthony Hopkins), is stripped of his title and power and banished to Earth for his insolence in provoking a conflict between Asgard and the Frost Giants of Jotunheim, what follows is a character arc very similar to that of Tony Stark's in the first Iron Man. The heart of this story is that of a man who never grew beyond being a spoiled brat learning to both take responsibility for his actions, and temper his contemptuous attitude with patience and respect. After falling for a mortal, the brilliant fringe scientist Jane Foster (Natalie Portman) and being fed a sinister lie by his traitorous brother, Loki (Tom Hiddleston), Thor grows into a man worthy of reclaiming what he's lost.

Much like Iron Man, if heroes are meant to instill in us virtues and ethics, then Thor presents a worthy hero. Not because he wields great power, but because he undergoes a profound change of heart. He goes from selfish and cocksure to selfless and modest, willing to give up his own life for the people of Earth. Similar to how Christ admonishes his disciples to deny themselves and take up their own cross in Luke 9, Thor quite literally dies a death to self. And only in dying does he find life again. In a blast of thunder, he is resurrected to reclaim his title and fearsome power, and this is what lends the film its transcendent quality. 

This is the stuff of myth and legend, what C. S. Lewis called the myth of the Dying God in his wonderful essay, "Myth Became Fact." These myths of Pagan messiahs and Pagan gods who die and rise again in fantasy are "good dreams," Lewis calls them in Mere Christianity, echoes in fantasy of the Father's plan worked out in reality—myth becoming fact in a particular time and place in human history. These stories, these virtues, point to Christ, a kind of basic morality system common to all humans, however sinful we might be. The very fact that we can conceive of stories like the one told in Thor, these pure expressions of virtue, suggests that there is, in fact, the purest expression of virtue, or the greatest story ever told. The mortal characters in the film, specifically Stellan Skarsgård's Erik Selvig, even discuss this in the context of the myths and legends of Norse mythology coming to life before their very eyes.

Thor is a marked improvement over Iron Man 2. Within a fantasy of warring gods and monsters, the film finds its heart in a timeless and human story about a bad man learning to be good. Between Iron Man, the Hulk, and Thor, it's easy to see how these initial films in the MCU managed to capture audiences the world over, and should banish any lingering doubts as to whether or not the once-lambasted characters in the pages of funny little 20th century picture books have become some of the definitive myths and fables of our times.

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Iron Man 2 (Retrospective)

Picking up in the closing moments of the MCU's inaugural film, Marvel's Iron Man 2 wastes no time introducing us to Mickey Rourke's enigmatic Russian, Ivan Vanko. It's clear from the outset that he has some kind of personal vendetta against Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) who, in the months after revealing himself to the world as Iron Man, has begun a downward spiral into narcissism in the worst way. While government prudes in league with weapons manufacturer Justin Hammer (Sam Rockwell) attempt to requisition and weaponize the Iron Man suit, Tony learns that the palladium core of the reactor keeping him alive is also poisoning him—or something like that. I don't claim to understand how any of this works, it's the usual comic book nonsense that demands audiences suspend disbelief in order to follow the plot. The point here is that Tony learns he's dying, and there's no apparent cure.

Marvel's Iron Man 2 (2010)

So he sets about putting those he actually cares about at arm's length, like his stalwart and even-keeled love interest, Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow), and his Air Force officer buddy, James Rhodes (Don Cheadle, replacing Terrence Howard from Iron Man). And for the first half of the film, Tony corkscrews out of control, his worst tendencies rising to the surface in one self-destructive act after another. It turns out that learning to change isn't quite as easy as it seems at first. Perhaps this is the trouble with sequels,  as character arcs completed in the first film usually end up being walked back a few steps in order to accommodate the ongoing story. Tony learns to accept responsibility for his own actions at the end of Iron Man, but by the time this movie gets rolling, you'd never know he learned that lesson in the first place.

Then, right around the halfway point, the film shifts gears. Enter Nick Fury, played by Samuel L. Jackson, reprising the character he originally portrayed in the small after-credits scene attached to Iron Man. This is where the world that will blossom into Marvel's cinematic universe really begins to take shape. Through Fury and his organization known as S.H.I.E.L.D., we reconnect with Phil Coulson (Clark Gregg) and are introduced to series mainstay Natasha Romanoff (Scarlett Johansson). Both of them are S.H.I.E.L.D. agents working for Fury, and their world of secrets provides our first real glimpse at the bigger picture.

The only problem with handling things in this manner makes for a bit of a muddled story. There is a lot going on in this film. In some instances, too much. On one hand, you have this really compelling story of fathers and sons that plays out between Tony and Vanko. On the other, you have a story about Tony learning to open up to the people around him, especially those who care about his well-being, after he learns that he's dying. It's not that either one of these particular stories is bad; in fact, they're both pretty compelling on their own. But compound both of these stories with the S.H.I.E.L.D. plot, and you have a bit of a messy story to untangle, and the problem arises with trying to do this in a span of two hours—the characters and the film's emotional resonance really suffer.

And the character that suffers the most is undoubtedly Ivan Vanko. Mickey Rourke is a rare talent, and his face is as instantly recognizable as Stallone's or Schwarzenegger's. He's introduced in a very compelling and sympathetic way, but his motivations are still shrouded enough to make him intriguing. And when he finally comes front and center for a harrowing sequence at a racetrack in Monaco, he's presented as this really quirky and intimidating villain. The character is established beautifully, but as soon as the film shifts to focus on Tony's dealings with S.H.I.E.L.D., Vanko falls almost entirely by the wayside. He's saved from the sidelines by Justin Hammer, but one feels as though this film is a bit overstuffed with characters and multiple half-baked characters are in play when only one really compelling villain is needed. Perhaps this is why these characters, despite clear motivations, carry none of the emotional weight of this particular story.

And nowhere is this more evident than in the final sequence of the film. In the same way that I felt putting Jeff Bridges in a big metal CGI husk of a suit in the first film was a kind of injustice to the high caliber of actor playing the role, I literally groaned when Rourke turned up in what looked like a copy-and-pasted version of the same suit that Bridges wore. And after all this wonderful build-up that paralleled Vanko's story with Tony's, he's defeated in an anti-climactic affair with no emotional resonance whatsoever. The movie simply has too many plot threads to unravel, and the culmination is a criminal mishandling of Rourke's character.

This isn't to say that Iron Man 2 is a bad film—it's actually pretty entertaining, in that in-the-moment kind of way. And, amazingly, all of the major plot points are resolved. There are a number of really stunning action sequences, Vanko's introduction at the Monaco race is an instant standout. Another ten minutes or so of character development for some of the new characters might have helped, and a less by-the-numbers ending would have gone a long way in making this film more memorable than it is. Vanko is a compelling enough villain that he probably should have carried this film on his own, with the annoying Hammer character jettisoned altogether. At the very least, Rourke's understated and underrated performance deserved better than to go out with the eye-roll-inducing words, "You lose."

I can't say that there's much memorable about Iron Man 2. It's well-crafted, just forgettable. It certainly doesn't have the quirky appeal of the first film in terms of story or execution. But Robert Downey Jr. is endlessly watchable as he continues to own the role of Tony Stark in what will become a career-defining performance, making this film's two hour runtime blow past in a whirlwind of quips and wisecracks, even if you're left scratching your head by the time the credits roll. The post-credits sequence here is the first to tease a direct connection to the next film in the MCU, and by this point it's clear the course is set. The Avengers are coming, and Tony Stark is paving the way.

Marvel Cinematic Universe: The Incredible Hulk (Retrospective)

Marvel's The Incredible Hulk is a film to which I am particularly partial. Of all the early content leading up to the first Avengers movie, this overlooked gem is actually my favorite. There were only a handful of superheroes to really imprint on me as a kid, and the Hulk was one of them, through an old 1978 television series starring Bill Bixby as David Banner and Lou Ferrigno as his big green alter ego. It still feels strange to me calling our main character Bruce, because I had only ever known him as David. The Hulk was not a hero, but a kind of modern, scientific curse—the monstrous Hyde to a decent man's Jekyll, the first superhero who was certainly super but not very heroic, and the first to truly frighten me. Banner's first transformation in that original pilot, where all the little things that have gone wrong in a day lead up to that fateful moment out there in the rain while trying to change a tire, still gives me chills. It's always those wild eyes, the human face with eyes that have lost all traces of humanity, that make me shudder.

Marvel's The Incredible Hulk (2008)

If you do not have an appreciation for that old TV series, you will struggle to fully appreciate what The Incredible Hulk does in terms of both character and story. This is not an origin story, all of that material is presented during the opening credits, using imagery lifted straight from the Bixby series. The genius of that series was to turn Banner into a wandering soul, a man lost to himself and the world, searching for the ever-elusive cure to a condition that no one could possibly understand. Prevented from ever growing close to anyone and settling down, he's constantly on the run, hunted by the government for what he is, knowing he can never go home again. As a viewer, you dreaded the coming of that monstrous green thing to upset Banner's fragile peace, even though you knew it was inevitable. Every episode ended with Banner walking away from whatever destruction was left in his wake, wandering the lonesome highways and byways of backwoods America to Joe Harnell's now iconic theme, appropriately called "The Lonely Man." The Incredible Hulk tries to evoke this same spirit by repurposing everything from the imagery of that series and old footage of Bill Bixby himself, to Harnell's musical cues and a cameo by Lou Ferrigno. In many ways, this film feels like a big-budget reimagining of the Bixby show, The Fugitive by way of Greek tragedy, duality, and a big green monster.

The story picks up in Rocinha, Brazil's largest favela. Here, the quiet and backwards Dr. Bruce Banner (Edward Norton) lives off the grid, with only a dog for company. He's managed to find work at a bottling plant, and searches for a cure to his bad case of gamma poisoning. To do this, he maintains contact with the mysterious "Mr. Blue," a fellow scientist helping from a distance. Norton's portrayal of Banner is a revelation. He's socially awkward, understated, tormented. He manages to capture the essential loneliness of the character, making the role his own while channeling the same energy as Bixby without ever stumbling over into pastiche or imitation. This really is a testament to Norton's quality as an actor. Losing him, without a doubt, was one of the hardest blows to Marvel's cinematic universe during its formative years.

It's not long before General Ross (William Hurt) picks up Banner's trail, and sics ace black ops commando Emil Blonsky (Tim Roth) on him, forcing Banner to run again. Only this time, Banner is determined to rid himself of the monster within. So, he returns home to dig up old research, putting him on a collision course with his old flame, Betty Ross (Liv Tyler)—who just so happens to be the general's daughter. The forbidden love affair between Betty and Bruce is one of the great and underutilized comic book romances, and The Incredible Hulk wisely puts them front and center.

There is a reason this film is often seen as the bastard child of the MCU. Tonally, this movie does not jive with rest of the series. I suppose that's due in no small part to Edward Norton's uncredited rewrites on the script, which lends the story a kind of lonesomeness. There is a certain gravitas to this film, a kind of mythic resonance that simply is not there in the vast majority of other Marvel flicks. You can always tell when a film like this has more on its mind that just a lot of intense action by how certain scenes are staged. Many of this movie's shots are of Banner, alone and wandering through the world. His reunion with Betty on a bridge, at night, in the middle of a storm testifies to the care that goes into shooting these scenes, framing the world in such a way that we connect emotionally with these characters through the imagery alone. When Betty rushes after him and the thunder rumbles in the distance, it's as if heaven itself bears witness to the tragedy and weeps for this once perfect couple pulled apart by powers beyond their control. This is the real power of cinematic storytelling, when the themes and narrative are communicated through the image, not just the characters or the dialogue or force of plot.

When the final confrontation pits the Hulk against the Abomination that Blonsky has become, though this is the usual big CGI blowup movies of this sort demand, the story has actually given us context and thematic significance for this fight. The image of two monsters smashing into each other is about more than two monsters fighting, but both monsters represent philosophical points of view. Banner's fight is about accepting that what has happened cannot be changed, and attempting to right the wrongs of the past and present to better the future. "We made this thing," Banner tells Ross when he's finally captured, referring to the monster that is Blonsky and its connection to the experiments directly responsible for creating the Hulk.

Perhaps the thing I appreciate most about The Incredible Hulk is how the film takes its own story seriously. We live in an age of self-conscious storytelling, where being "meta," or pointing out the absurdities of the story to the audiences in the context of the narrative, is considered "creative." And perhaps, at one time, it was. But The Incredible Hulk does not do tongue-in-cheek, instead playing its tropes straight and true, and I find that a refreshing change of pace. This is a much older style of moviemaking, and storytelling in general. Yet there is a distinct sense in which corporate interference hampered the film's final form. We certainly needed more time with the characters, and Tim Blake Nelson's goofy Samuel Sterns suffers the worst here. He's set up brilliantly, only to fall away by the film's conclusion. There were clearly ideas in place to keep this story going, investments in which there is little to no return. Supposedly, Norton had a very specific vision for the character that ultimately clashed with the direction Marvel wanted to go in. We ended up with the Avengers, but I cannot help but wonder what would have happened had Norton's vision been fully realized. I doubt we'll ever know, but it's certainly a tantalizing question.

Banner's final words in the Bixby-directed 1990 film, The Death of the Incredible Hulk, still haunt me. As the dying man breathes his last, he realizes that he's finally found what he's spent a lifetime searching for, that the monster finally dies with him. He utters, "I am free." It's a shame we'll never see that arc completed by Norton's take on the character, because that haunted, lonely man played by Bixby is the same tragic character on display here. We ended up with one of the most successful film series of all time. But the mythic dimensions of this character were sacrificed in order for us to have it. Perhaps that is why all the other superheroes of Marvel's early years have received multiple sequels, and this film remains the only incarnation of this particular version of the character. Bruce Banner is a lonely man, and his struggle against the literal monster within is the stuff of myth and epic poetry—and his story just isn't compelling when told any other way.

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Iron Man (Retrospective)

Marvel's Iron Man (2008) marked the beginning of what would become the biggest pop culture phenomenon of the decade. The Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) all starts right here with a Humvee attack in the middle of Afghanistan that sees billionaire playboy and genius inventor Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) abducted by the Ten Rings terrorist group. Their ultimatum: build them one of his new, high-tech missiles in exchange for his freedom. He gets to work, and ends up building a suit of armor.

Marvel's Iron Man (2008)

Watching the film more than a decade since its release, it strikes me much as it did upon first viewing: as a very weird superhero movie. Everything about this film, from the cultural context in which it was made (released the same year as Nolan's The Dark Knight), to the superhero film pedigree from which it descended, when added up should have equaled something very different from what Iron Man actually is. And this uniqueness is probably why audiences fell in love with this film and the series it spawned.

Consider, for example, the character of Tony Stark. A wisecracking, spontaneous rebel whose quirks and eccentricities blur so keenly with the public persona of actor Robert Downey Jr. that sometimes we're wondering if Downey is playing Stark or just being himself. So much of his dialogue and mannerisms in this movie feel improvised and effortless when contrasted against the major superheroes of films that came before. Batman is moody and cynical. Wolverine is haunted. Superman has all the gravitas of classic myths. But Iron Man has fun.

Clocking in at a lean two hours, Iron Man is a spectacle without being spectacular, extravagant without becoming an extravaganza. The first quarter of the film unfolds in a crummy cave in the Middle East, while much of the rest occurs inside Stark's workshop back home. Stark is front and center for the vast majority of the movie, a wise decision that allows Downey's mesmerizing performance to dominate the mood. The other characters never outshine him, but play to his strengths so that he steals every scene he's in—it just so happens that he's also the star of the picture.

Regarding the secondary characters, one thing I rarely hear mentioned is just how stunning of a cast Iron Man bolsters. This is probably due to the fact that Downey controls every scene masterfully, but that control is something that can only be given. The other actors inhabit their roles admirably and never try to outwit Stark, strengthening the performances all around. Gwyneth Paltrow's Pepper Potts is grounded and Stark's primary verbal sparring partner. Terrance Howard lends humor and irony to military liaison James Rhodes in what could have easily been a throwaway role. Shaun Toub plays Yinsen, the man who saves Stark's life in Afghanistan and helps him build the prototype Iron Man suit. Toub's soft-spoken performance here provides a perfect foil for Downey's mouthy Stark, and in many ways Yinsen becomes the catalyst for putting Stark on the road to redemption. But perhaps the star that shines most brightly is Jeff Bridges as the simmering and understated Obadiah Stane, a character it would have been nice to revisit in later films just to see Bridges playing this kind of villain again.

Thematically, the story has some interesting ideas at work. Stark Industries, the company Tony inherited from his father, Howard, is a weapons manufacturer. But after seeing firsthand the horrors of war in Afghanistan, Tony begins to rethink the distribution of weapons. Wisely, the film does not preach on these matters, though it certainly comes with a point of view. Tony must step out from under the shadow of his father and consider the degree to which the world has changed. It is no longer as simple as doing things "like dad did," now he must chart his own course. Howard is said to have worked on the atomic bomb, a weapon of mass destruction that was used with the intention of destroying lives to save lives. Now, Tony must pick up the pieces and chart a new, better course forward. Iron Man is not a weapon with no regard for collateral damage. He is a surgical instrument who can be used to save lives with precision.

The redemption of Tony Stark becomes the narrative through-line of Marvel's cinematic universe. The story begins here in Iron Man with Stark nearly dying, being kept alive only by an electromagnet implant that prevents shrapnel from entering his heart and killing him. Tony Stark should be dead. Everything that happens after this is one man living on borrowed time. What he chooses to do with that time makes all the difference. He has to lose his humanity to find it, and emerges from the caves of Afghanistan determined to make the world a better place. The death and resurrection motif is subtle here, but present nonetheless. How interesting that the film inverts this trope by having the death occur at the story's beginning rather than its end.

If I have one complaint about Iron Man, it's that I wish these themes would have been further explored. The ending—where superhero films frequently fumble the pass—devolves into the predictable iron man vs. iron man slam-bang-a-thon. It's loud and clanging and high on energy, but it almost seems a travesty to take two high-caliber actors like Robert Downey Jr. and Jeff Bridges, pit them against one another, and then obscure them behind a mess of CGI metal. The dialogue here is the usual mess of clichés as well, but I suppose this comes with the territory. The movie is really intelligently written, which is perhaps why the final battle lands with such a thud. I wish the film would have been just a bit braver here. After all, by 2008, Christopher Nolan had shown us that the genre could be completely reinvented into something truly audacious.

Iron Man is a fun, offbeat superhero flick, the kind of movie I doubt we will ever see again because the genre and these characters are now so embedded in the cultural psyche. Robert Downey Jr. stole the hearts and minds of millions with his quirky portrayal of Tony Stark, a selfish man learning to be selfless. If superheroes are meant to inspire us, to point us to something greater than ourselves, few point us toward humility like the Iron Man.

Marvel's The Punisher: Season 1 (Review)

Marvel's The Punisher

Marvel's The Punisher is a dangerous series. A dark, moody story laced with moments of shocking brutality, the show toes the fine line between realism and sadism, between showing the toll violence takes on a human being and glorifying the very thing it's trying to comment on. To be fair, this is a tricky thing to do creatively. In the age of "switching off the brain" in the name of entertainment, this presents a real problem for shows like The Punisher, which prefers to communicate its deeper meanings through nuance. In other words, the point of a series like this stands to be easily missed.

For the most part, The Punisher walks the tightrope admirably. But there are missteps here and there, which seem to be the necessary pitfall of long term storytelling. Part of the problem arises in the realization that Frank Castle, the titular "Punisher," is not a character who translates well to long form serialization, instead working better in a more old fashioned procedural, "story of the week" format. His character arc is relatively small and tough to trace over the course of 13 hour-long episodes without beginning to feel stale and repetitive. However, the slog through the sometimes meandering story is made worthwhile by the fact that the writers have a remarkable understanding of the primary character, and by Jon Bernthal's ferocious performance as the haunted, tragic Castle.

The story is relatively straightforward. When the series begins, Frank Castle is dead, as far as the world is concerned. But Pete Castiglione is paying the bills by hammering down walls as a construction worker in New York City. Castiglione is, of course, an alias. He is actually Castle, alive and well, living under the radar. He works long hours, swinging his hammer until his hands bleed, then goes home at night to try and power through the rest of Moby Dick and catch a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. This proves especially difficult considering that his dreams are haunted by the faces of his wife and children, who were killed many months prior in a hit gone bad. In the wake of their deaths, Castle had gone on the warpath, carving a bloody trail through the New York underworld as "The Punisher," a one-man army, taking his revenge against those he believed to be responsible. Now, with his family avenged and the Punisher believed to be dead, Castle struggles to function in the aftermath.

But the past is not so easily outrun, and through an encounter with brilliant hacker and former NSA analyst David Lieberman (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), Castle learns that the people responsible for the deaths of his family are still out there, all tied to an illegal CIA operation, one that Castle was unwittingly party to during his time in the Marines. This brings the threat closer to home than he could have ever imagined. Thus begins the resurrection of Frank Castle, the Punisher.

Castle's uniqueness as a protagonist is worth noting here. There is an effective storytelling trope in the vein of the Byronic hero, which sees a protagonist tormented by a dark past. When it comes to characters who are assassins—characters like Frank Castle—these characters are usually brooding, tired of killing, and looking to leave that life behind. The Punisher stands in stark contrast to this stereotype, because Frank Castle worships violence. In the wake of his first round of revenge, when our story begins, Castle doesn't know what to do with himself. Any chance he had of leaving this behind died with his wife and children. Now, he can barely function as a human being. He only snaps back to life the moment the possibility of revenge rears its head. As the time for the kill draws near, a kind of excitement overtakes him, and every kill is carried out in a state of religious rapture. There is very little heroic about Frank Castle, at least in the traditional sense. He functions more as an antihero, one who operates from his own set of ethical principles. On one hand, this makes Castle the most moral character on the show. He has a clear sense of right and wrong, and the punishment he deals to wrongdoers is absolute and final, usually coming in the form of a bullet. The problem with Castle lies in his power of self-determination. He singlehandedly judges what is right and what is wrong, effectively acting as judge, jury, and executioner. Castle thrives on violence, finds his purpose in punishing those he deems deserving of it.

The toll this takes, not just on Castle, but on those around him, becomes the driving force of the show's first season. There's a brilliant moment in the fifth episode, when Castle meets with an old acquaintance, journalist Karen Page (Deborah Ann Woll). There are shades of Faithful from The Pilgrim's Progress in Page's character, as she's the one who stays the course and, in doing so, helps the protagonist to do the same. Castle espouses his usual belief that he has to find the people who murdered his family so that he can kill them, to which Karen finally asks, "So where does that end, Frank? Because I look at you and my heart breaks because all I can see is this endless, echoing loneliness." And perhaps the most telling thing of all is how quickly Castle retorts, "I'm not lonely, Karen." The truth is that Castle cannot see himself, he marches ever forward on his quest for vengeance, never once stopping to consider himself. His relationship with Page is crucial. He is drawn to her, but she perplexes him. Perhaps it's because she sees right through him. Viewers who aren't watching carefully might be tempted to see a hero in Frank Castle. The truth, however, is exactly what Page describes as endless, echoing loneliness. It's this trait that makes Castle a sympathetic, almost pitiable character. What The Punisher gives us is a man who simply refuses to cope with loss, and grief. Someone who deflects it all and reaches deep into the well of rage that, by his own admission, has always been present in his life, even from childhood, in order to manage his trauma. It's a tragic dimension of character, a willful act of self-destruction that Castle refuses to see about himself. He thinks he's keeping himself alive, when the reality is that, little by little, he is suspending more and more of his humanity with every life he takes. "I want there to be an after for you," Karen says to him, telegraphing where this story is heading, and the choice Castle will ultimately have to make. In many ways, this pivotal conversation lays the groundwork for Castle's character arc for the remaining episodes.

Yet another powerful conversation occurs in the eleventh episode of the season, between Castle and the hacker, Lieberman. The Punisher is known for wearing an iconic white skull. When Castle emerges with the skull painted on a suit of body armor, Lieberman says, "That skull? That's a memento mori. It's Latin for, 'Remember you will die.' In Rome, victorious generals would return from war, and so they didn't get blinded by glory, they'd have a slave who would say, 'Remember, you're only human. You are gonna die.' Well, it's meant as an admonition to value your life, to live it well." While Castle dismisses him, Lieberman's insight is a powerful one that, again, viewers who aren't careful can miss: the Punisher is not a hero. He is, like Batman to Bruce Wayne, Frank Castle's singular act of wanton self-destruction. While Castle might find his purpose as the Punisher, he is stunting himself emotionally by refusing to deal with his trauma.

All this makes the final scene of the season the most profound. The show's final episode, tellingly entitled "Memento Mori," sees Castle, having emerged from the shadows to finish bringing down the conspiracy that got his family killed, finally attend the veterans group run by his friend, Curtis Hoyle (Jason R. Moore). For the first time, Frank speaks openly with the group about himself in a stunning monologue: "If you're gonna look at yourself, really look in the mirror, you gotta admit who you are. But not just to yourself, you gotta admit it to everybody else. First time, as long as I can remember, I don't have a war to fight. And I guess, if I'm gonna be honest, I'm just... I'm scared."

Castle's final words can seem oddly out of place for a comic book character. His words signal a movement from within. Because of Karen Page and David Lieberman, Castle has, to some small degree, thawed. He, for perhaps the first time, sees himself. It's an admission of guilt, to be sure. But more than that, it's an acknowledgement of fear. We like the heroes we worship to be larger than life. The problem is that the heroes we worship tend to be profoundly human characters with serious deficiencies of being. Our tendency now is to look to antiheroes, to men like Frank Castle, with the same reverie as those standing in the lineage of men like Atticus Finch and Shane. The truth is that there's no correlation at all. But that doesn't mean that men like Frank Castle have any less to teach us about ourselves. In fact, it's likely that most of us are more like Castle than any of the truly great men of literature. Which is why we should pay special attention to this iteration of the Punisher, and note his character arc.

It's a rare thing that an antihero emerges from his self-medicated state to see himself for who he actually is, much less take steps in the right direction to course correct and become a better man because of it. Yet that is exactly what happens with Frank Castle, and that is exactly what makes The Punisher worthwhile. We travel with Frank Castle through his dark night of the soul. We experience the cathartic release of witnessing him finally unleash on the ones who murdered his family, all the while haunted by the notion that though justice is rightly demanded, perhaps we take the power of self-determination upon ourselves at the expense of our very humanity. And, ultimately, we see Castle make the hardest choice of all, to do the truly courageous thing and take a good, long, hard look at himself and admit that he doesn't like what he sees. And then to look outside of himself for help in dealing with it. That endless, echoing loneliness that Castle finally confronts within himself is actually a terrifying prospect that I suspect is all too real for so many men in the modern era, myself included. And when we're standing on the knife's edge, threatening to stumble over into that dark void and lose ourselves, then we can hope to have the strength of Frank Castle to do the right and necessary thing.