Man of Steel - Review

Director: Zack Snyder Writer: David S. Goyer Studio: Warner Bros. Cast: Henry Cavill, Amy Adams, Michael Shannon, Russell Crowe, Kevin Costner, Diane Lane Release Date (UK): 14 June 2013 Certificate: 12A Runtime: 143 min

A common criticism of “Superman Returns,” director Bryan Singer’s spiritual 2006 follow-up to Richard Donner’s triumphant 1980 comic-book sequel “Superman II,” is that at no point during the film’s sizable 154-minute length does Brandon Routh’s titular superhero get to throw a punch. Instead, he’s far too busy lifting a series of increasingly heavy objects: he starts, ambitiously, with a free falling jumbo jet and slowly but surely works his way up to an entire island made of solid Kryptonite. All impressive feats of physical strength, I’m sure you’ll agree, but viewers were left dissatisfied with the film’s disappointing lack of blood-pumping action: where’s the excitement, the summer crowd cawed, and where exactly is the punching?

It’s a complaint that cannot and will not be launched against “Man of Steel,” director Zack Snyder’s bombastic, $225 million blockbuster which acts as a reboot of both the three-decades-old film franchise and the iconic DC Comics character who has prevailed for three quarters of a century. In it, Snyder and screenwriter David S. Goyer retell Supe’s well-known origin story — an alien infant from the dying planet Krypton is sent to live on Earth, where he grows up to become the colourfully costumed protector of mankind — with the straight face of Christopher Nolan’s masterfully handled “The Dark Knight” trilogy (Nolan serves as producer here) and the grandiose, pumped-up stylisation of Snyder’s previous two comic-book adaptations: those being his blood-splattered big-screen renditions of Frank Miller’s “300” and Alan Moore’s “Watchmen.”

“Man of Steel," of course, isn't as icky or gooey as either of those last two films — it is, after all, rated a teen-friendly 12A — but what is shares with them is a bare-knuckle brawniness and a testosterone-pumped energy the likes of which have never before been seen from the Last Son of Krypton. Here, Superman hurtles between — and often through — the skyscrapers of Metropolis with a jet trail behind him and a sonic boom at his feet, Snyder staying true to the age-old notion that Supes is faster than a speeding bullet. The result is exhilarating and redefines Superman as an absolute badass: “Superman Returns” detractors will be thrilled to hear that in 2013, Superman fights for truth, justice and the American way primarily by bashing badguys in the face.

Taking over the red cape and S symbol (but thanks to a nifty costume update, not the Y-fronts) from Routh is Henry Cavill, a Brit best known for his supporting role in historical TV drama “The Tudors.” Cavill has the look, the voice and the gravitas to pull off playing a godlike super-being, if perhaps not the authoritative, wholesome charm that Christopher Reeve brought to the role in 1978 — though to be fair, that is a tough act to follow. Following the dizzying spectacle of the opening half-hour, in which Superman/Kal-El's birth to proud parents Jor-El (Russell Crowe, a terrific replacement for Brando) and Lara Lor-Van (Ayelet Zurer, “Angels & Demons”) is depicted against the explosive and vividly rendered backdrop of a dying, war-torn alien planet, the film settles down, and we fast-forward thirty years or so to find that Cavill’s Clark Kent is a drifter, wandering from town to town and job to job, searching for clues to his true identity and occasionally saving endangered civilians from a burning oil rig or two.

It is in this section, which is interspersed with flashbacks to Clark’s childhood as he is raised on a rural Kansas farm by foster parents Jonathan (Kevin Costner, “The Company Men”) and Martha Kent (Diane Lane, “Secretariat”), that the title becomes important, as “Man of Steel” focuses on the man behind the costume, the man who is a troubled outsider, the man who wishes to do good with his powers, the man told by Costner's Pa Kent to hide and keep his true nature a secret until both he and the world around him are ready. It is in these quieter, more grounded scenes that “Man of Steel” is at its most poignant and arguably its most effective (Clark’s classroom freak-out is a touching highlight), even if the clunky, back-and-forth flashback structure stifles some forward momentum.

It's not long before the action picks up again, as General Zod (Michael Shannon, “The Iceman”), a mutinous Kryptonian military man who has recently escaped from imprisonment in the Phantom Zone, arrives on Earth and demands over the airwaves that the fugitive known as Kal-El turn himself in... or else. As played by Shannon, whose trademark wide-eyed intensity makes for bone-chilling viewing, Zod is a terrifying nemesis, capable of acts of savage cruelty and fitted with a fierce determination to protect his people no matter the cost — even if that means wiping out an entire population (say, oh I dunno, the people of Earth?) to make way for a brand new Krypton.

He's also capable, it turns out, of kicking Superman's ass, as is proven in an epic and jaw-slackening 45-minute finale in which the two, along with Zod’s team of Kryptonian cronies, go toe-to-toe, and fist-to-face, amidst the crumbling skyscrapers of downtown Metropolis. Fuelled by Hans Zimmer’s thunderous score and Snyder’s clear love of cataclysmic destruction, it’s a chaotic and thoroughly exhausting showdown which gives the geek-tastic, New York-busting climax of Joss Whedon's "The Avengers” a run for its money (and that's quite a hefty sum).

Even when it does at points become so noisy and overblown that it teeters dangerously close to dreaded “Transformers” territory, it's difficult not to get caught up in the awesome grandeur of it all. Like the rest of the movie, it's best to just sit back and let it all wash over you, and the shining spectacle dazzle your eyes, and the colossal weight leave you breathless. This is Superman redefined for a whole new generation, Snyder, Goyer and Nolan having boldly reinvented the mythos and character for the 21st century, and in doing so making the man in the bright blue tights exciting again. Perhaps it doesn't quite soar to the towering heights of Nolan's brilliant “Batman Begins” (the balance between action and drama falls a little too heavily on the former), but if Warner Bros. are looking to kick-start their next big superhero franchise — and, if the rumours are true, a “Justice League” movie — they’re off to a solid and promising start.

Rating: 8/10

Rotten Tomatoes Score: 56%
Metacritic Score: 55/100
IMDb Rating: 7.8/10

Iron Man 3

And so Marvel’s Phase Two begins, with a crash, a bang, a wallop and, strangely enough, the unmistakable, toe-tapping intro to Eiffel 65’s late-’90s Europop hit, “I’m Blue (Da Ba Dee, Da Ba Da).” “Iron Man 3” is Marvel Studio’s first theatrical release since their epic superhero team-up “The Avengers” kicked movie-goers’ butts in the summer of 2012 (and in doing so, raked in over $1 billion at the international box office), and it was feared that everyone's favourite man-in-a-can would crumble under the immense weight of Joss Whedon’s huge-scale juggernaut - just how would Tony Stark’s next solo outing fare without the rest of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes tagging along for the ride?

Quite well, it turns out: co-written and directed by legendary “Lethal Weapon” scribe and “Kiss Kiss Bang Bang” helmer Shane Black - as should be obvious from the get-go, what with Robert Downey, Jr.'s meta-riffic opening narration and the otherwise inexplicable Christmastime setting - this first film in the build-up to 2015’s “The Avengers 2” stands sturdily and mightily on its own two feet, bursting with personality, sizzling with wicked humour, soaring with high-octane thrills and packing an almighty wallop of a plot twist that’s guaranteed to split the comic-book crowd in two - in the age of pesky internet spoilers and overly revelatory studio marketing, it’s refreshing to see a blockbuster with genuine shocks and surprises in store.

Most surprising of all though, is how mature Marvel’s latest output is - have you ever seen a superhero movie tackling the harrowing effects of PTSD? That’s what super-snarky superhero Tony Stark is having to deal with, and it’s turned his high life upside down: following his near-death experience in New York (i.e. the alien-busting finale of “The Avengers,” wherein Tony travelled through a wormhole into space), the self-described “genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist” is now an insomniac, frightened for the safety of his beloved Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow), crippled by anxiety attacks and spending his nights in the basement of his ocean-view pad, obsessively building new armours to help keep his mind busy and distracted.

As it turns out, he has more to worry about than panic attacks and sleep deprivation: hooded, ethnically nondescript terrorist mastermind The Mandarin, played with chilling, scenery-chewing menace by British thesp Sir Ben Kingsley (clearly having a ball), is hijacking the American airwaves, broadcasting hyper-edited videos in which he threatens to teach the American populace a lesson or two - chiefly by bombing the US to kingdom come. Aiding the Mandarin in his reign of terror is Aldrich Killian (Guy Pearce, “Lockout”), a slimy, devilishly handsome scientist whose science experiment Extremis is sure to get Tony hot under the collar: a biological enhancement, it either a) transforms its subject into a nigh-unstoppable, auto-repairing T-1000 crossed with a lava lamp, or b) turns its subject into a walking lava bomb, a bug the Mandarin has been using to stage untracable terror attacks.

And when a loyal friend is caught in one of these attacks and sent into a coma, Tony publicly swears revenge, a move that sees his swanky Malibu home visited by a trio of attack-choppers, blasted by missiles and sent hurtling down the side of a cliff. This is portrayed in a spectacular action set-piece - one of many - which leaves Tony armourless, homeless and stranded in the middle of nowhere, Tennessee, forced to rely on his wits rather than his fire-power to survive.

This is a development that’s crucial to the success of “Iron Man 3:” though its predecessors solved the potential problem of the Iron Man exoskeleton being an impersonal CG creation with the ingenious device of an in-helmet face-cam, “Iron Man 3” goes one step further, keeping Tony out of his metal suit for the majority of the action. This leaves Downey, Jr. to be Downey, Jr., stripped of the armour he so naturally outshines and given a few extra doses of vulnerability. Add to that the possibility of Tony’s recent mental instability meaning he could at any second be reduced to a quivering wreck, and you’ve got yourself a compelling action hero, faults and all.

Also crucial is the involvement of Black, whose dialogue (written alongside Scottish newbie Drew Pearce) fizzes with wit and who brings to the proceedings a subversive quality: constantly, expectations are defied, be it through Tony’s amusingly harsh remarks to a friendless, fatherless boy he’s just befriended (young Ty Simpkins, wonderful), or through a rug pull that catches us off-guard and instantly reshapes our entire understanding of the plot. Then, of course, there’s the buddy-cop element for which Black is most famous, and which he practically invented in 1987, here shared between loose-cannon Tony and straight-arrow Rhodes (Don Cheadle), aka War Machine, aka Iron Patriot; bantering and bickering together amidst fiery chaos, they’re like a 21st century Riggs and Murtaugh, albeit clad in weaponised metal suits.

And then, of course, there’s the grand finale, which leaps and dives through the levels of an abandoned oil rig and which damn near gives “The Avengers"' climax a run for its money (and that’s quite a hefty sum): it may not have a Hulk, but it has a Hulkbuster, along with the rest of the toys Tony’s been tinkering with in his basement, finally taken out for a spin to do battle with indestructible volcano people. It was a problem with director Jon Favreau’s previous instalments that their climaxes consisted of monotonous, “Transformers”-esque robot-bashing-robot action. This one blows the both of them out of the water, with Tony out of his armour, bloodied and bashed, and fighting like a human being - for once, an “Iron Man" movie nears its finishing line with a genuine sense of peril, and we’re gripped at every second.

It’s hinted at in the film’s final moments that this may be the final “Iron Man” movie. If this is true (and one doubts it very much), then Mr Stark has gone out on an all-time high: “Iron Man 3” is the best of the “Iron Man” movies, Black giving the clunky “Iron Man 2” a good, hard kick up the backside and tying up the trilogy in a neat and tidy bow while looking ahead to the future. It’s not perfect - Rebecca Hall’s Maya Hansen, an old flame of Tony’s and employee of Killian, is cruelly short-changed with minimal screen-time - but it’s difficult to imagine Phase Two getting off to a more exciting start. Put simply, Cap, Thor and the yet-to-be-unveiled Guardians of the Galaxy have their work cut out in topping Tony’s third, and possibly final, adventure. But if anyone can do it, it’s Marvel.

9/10

The Dark Knight Rises

“The Dark Knight Rises” opens not with a whimper but with an ominous crack of heart-stopping thunder. In the clouded skies looming large over a desolate landscape in central Asia, a CIA plane manned by a cocky agent and three handcuffed mercenaries is hijacked by its prisoners, suspended nose-down in mid-air from a second, much larger plane that swoops in from above, torn apart piece by piece and finally sent hurtling down towards the grassy hills standing miles below. There are two survivors of the crash, one of whom is the villainous Bane (Tom Hardy, “Warrior”), who, with a blubbering captive in tow, hangs from a wire attached to the second plane, which soars off into the horizon, where Gotham City lies unprepared for what is hotly approaching. As Anne Hathaway’s Catwoman warns our costumed hero in a later scene, “There’s a storm coming, Mr Wayne.” What a stirring and destructive storm it is.

This sequence, like so many in “The Dark Knight Rises,” is a stunning, dizzying and goose bump-inducing watch. It’s like something out of a James Bond movie, but on a larger scale. It boldly displays director Christopher Nolan’s preference for practical effects and stunt-work over computer-generated jiggery pokery, along with Hans Zimmer’s booming score and of course Wally Pfister’s staggering cinematography. It introduces terrorist Bane as a fearsome, hulking figure of brute force and cunning tactic. As played with startling physicality by Hardy, Bane is a sinister presence, his face obscured behind a respiratory mask that pumps his lungs full of life-sustaining anaesthetic and muffles his British-accented voice. This opening set-piece, when previewed to select audiences last December, was the recipient of widespread complaints regarding the incomprehensibility of Hardy’s wheezy line delivery. Rest assured that Bane’s voice has been altered and fixed, and much of his speech approaches crystal clarity, with the odd garbled line here and there.

“The Dark Knight Rises” is the concluding chapter of Nolan’s billion-dollar Batman trilogy, which rejuvenated and reinvented the superhero mould in 2005 with “Batman Begins” and went on to climb to unprecedented new heights in 2008 with “The Dark Knight.” In the closing moments of the series’ second entry, you should recall, Batman decided to take the fall for the vengeance-sparked murders committed by the late District Attorney Harvey “Two Face" Dent (Aaron Eckhart), whose Dent Act would effectively rid Gotham City’s streets of organised crime. Eight years later, Gotham is almost entirely crime-free thanks to the Dent Act, with Dent’s murderous actions reluctantly unrevealed by the noble Commissioner Jim Gordon (Gary Oldman, “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy”).

Batman, meanwhile, has remained hidden from the public eye since that fateful night, condemned by the citizens of Gotham as the murderer of their beloved White Knight. Billionaire Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale, “The Fighter”), now an injured recluse silently hobbling through the master bedroom and marble hallways of a mansion he never leaves, has hung up his cape and cowl and turned into a rarely glimpsed shadow of his former self. “We all know he’s holed up with eight-inch fingernails and peeing into Mason jars,” snarkily comments a slimy board member, surely in reference to that infamously secretive movie mogul Howard Hughes.

Two characters, both new faces in the franchise, stir Bruce from his long-standing stupor and spring him back into action. One is Selina Kyle, aka Catwoman (a pseudonym that curiously goes unspoken), a dexterous cat burglar with feline-like flexibility who sneakily swipes an item close to Bruce’s heart. The other is Bane, who is discovered to be assembling an army of AK-47-wielding revolutionists in the sewers of Gotham City, for which he has plans of catastrophic proportions. I should also mention Officer John Blake (Joseph Gordon-Levitt, “50/50”), a young but wise rookie cop whose inexperience is compensated for by an uncanny instinct for trouble and a stubborn, heroic determination. Blake essentially acts as our secondary protagonist, and is earnestly performed with a convincing drive and spirit by Gordon-Levitt.

For a Batman movie, “The Dark Knight Rises” bravely features very little of Batman - in a picture that lasts a staggering 165 minutes, the Batsuit is given somewhere around 30 minutes of screen-time. For reasons I wouldn’t dare explain, the caped crusader is missing from action for the vast majority of the film’s second act, during which Bale’s co-stars take the mantle as Bane’s master-plan is set in horrible motion. There goes another thing I wouldn’t dare explain: I believe it would be much more dramatically enriching to watch Bane’s heinous scheme and the unbridled horrors contained therein unfold on the big screen with little-to-no prior knowledge. Its meticulously explored themes of despair versus hope, the body versus the spirit and good versus evil would pack more of a hard-hitting punch.

Fans of spectacle will be pleased to know that Bane’s plan leads to a grand assemblage of action-packed set-pieces, all of which are majestic in scope and breathtaking in execution. There’s that opening sequence, with its stomach-churning altitude and daring complexity. A build-up to an attack on a jam-packed football stadium, in which a small boy ominously chants the Star Spangled Banner into a microphone, is extraordinary in its raw power, and comes with an explosive pay-off. In a pulse-pounding climax, Batman gets to play with a new toy: a flying vehicle aptly named The Bat, which Batman sharply maneuvers between towering skyscrapers as he avoids the path of incoming missiles. Nolan’s film rivals Joss Whedon’s “The Avengers” in the field of lip-smacking razzle-dazzle, but here I was more emotionally invested in the action: I cared, and at times I was moved.

“The Dark Knight Rises" is more action-oriented than its immediate predecessor, but lacks that film’s sizzling dark humour: “The Dark Knight Rises" is an increasingly grim experience with an overwhelming sense of apocalyptic doom about it. This is reflected in the head villain: while the Joker of “The Dark Knight" was a cackling creator of anarchy and chaos, Bane is a creator of destruction and is seemingly bereft of a sense of humour. Several scenes in the film are also quite harrowing to watch, as Bane’s penchant for back-breaking brutality is unleashed in unflinching style by Nolan and crew. I strongly suspect that the BBFC will receive countless emails from angry parents regarding whether or not the film’s (admittedly bloodless) violence is suitable in a 12A-rated feature - if it happened for “The Dark Knight” four years ago, it will most certainly happen for “The Dark Knight Rises.”

As Bruce Wayne, Christian Bale gives a performance that is understated and, as it was in “The Dark Knight,” will most likely be underappreciated by many. Here is a man boundlessly dedicated to upholding the safety of his city to the point of obsession, screaming into thin air with rabid fury upon discovering that Gotham is to be destroyed. Here is a man who is to be admired for his selfless devotion to his quest for peace. Here is a hero we as an audience can get behind and root for, and maybe even shed a tear for. Tom Hardy, whose eyes and voice are mercifully expressive, makes for a ferociously menacing antagonist, intimidating both physically and mentally, but mostly physically - Bane is the first adversary that Batman finds not only matches his supreme fighting power but surpasses it, as shown in a devastating fistfight.

Anne Hathaway, who was inspired casting, wields an untamed swagger as Catwoman, a femme fatale in the purest, most devious sense of the term: she pounces from villain to anti-heroine at a click of her functionally questionable high heels. Marion Cotillard is endearingly strong and tenacious as Miranda Tate, a do-gooder executive of the Wayne Enterprises board for whom Bruce begins to develop feelings. But it is loyal butler Alfred, as played once again by the great Michael Caine, who is the heart of “The Dark Knight Rises:” he treats Bruce like his own son and protects him like a loving father would. In a poignant, heartfelt exchange at the bottom of the Wayne Manor staircase, Alfred tearfully pleads for Bruce to cease his exploits as Batman before he gets hurt, before Bane gets the better of him. We share his sorrow, and our eyes are as tearful as Alfred’s.

“The Dark Knight Rises” is a profoundly powerful, thematically prosperous and emotionally exhausting superhero epic. For almost three hours of utterly enthralling comic-book entertainment, Nolan’s film shreds the nerves and stimulates the intellect, providing us with a story that is intelligently written, ambitious in scope, ceaselessly compelling and, in many ways, inspiring. It is a deftly handled, completely satisfying conclusion to the Batman trilogy, a trilogy that now goes down in history as one of the greatest to ever be showcased on the big screen. This is an extraordinary piece of work that should be championed not just for its aspirations but also for its execution, which is difficult to fault given the awesome grandeur of it all. Once again, Christopher Nolan takes a sledgehammer to the so-called boundaries of the mega-budget studio blockbuster.

10/10

The Amazing Spider-Man

“The Amazing Spider-Man” is a reboot of a blockbusting franchise that got off to a good start with “Spider-Man” in 2002, web-slung to towering new heights with “Spider-Man 2” in 2004, and lost its footing with “Spider-Man 3” in 2007. While each of those films were helmed by horror maestro Sam Raimi, this redo is directed by indie newbie Marc Webb, who may or may not have been hired for his eerily appropriate surname. Webb was a good choice: he displays a deft hand at directing drama, romance and action in “The Amazing Spider-Man,” and balances them with profound ease and impressive skill. Once again, a “Spider-Man” franchise gets off to a good start. I look forward to its inevitable sequel and look warily upon its probable threequel.

The Peter Parker, and indeed Spider-Man, of Raimi’s trilogy was played by Tobey Maguire, who was 27 years of age when he first played the super-powered high-schooler. In Webb’s film, Peter is played by Andrew Garfield, who is now 28 years old. In spite of the one-year advantage Maguire had over Garfield in playing a teen, I found Garfield more convincing in the role: the L.A.-born English actor, utterly enchanting as Eduardo Saverin in David Fincher’s “The Social Network,” has one of those faces that looks perpetually young or, more specifically, adolescent. Teenage girls could take him home to show daddy, and daddy wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

We all know the story. Peter Parker, socially inept science geek, is bitten by a genetically engineered spider and gains arachnid-themed special abilities. In Raimi’s 2002 version, Peter was bitten while attending a field trip to a genetics laboratory. Here, the scenario is a little different: Peter is bitten while snooping around the private labs of Oscorp Industries to find clues about the mysterious disappearance of his parents, both scientists, many years ago. Peter has been living in the suburbs with his beloved Aunt May (Sally Field, “Forrest Gump”) and Uncle Ben (Martin Sheen, “The West Wing”) since mum and dad without warning left him in their care. Uncle Ben, of course, plays a vital part in Peter’s development as a person and as a hero, and teaches him a lesson he will never forget.

Peter wakes up to find he has powers beyond his wildest dreams. On a subway train, he inadvertently beats up a gang of low-life thugs, the palm of his hand hopelessly stuck to a metal pole, which he accidentally and clumsily dislodges. In the Parker bathroom, he discovers that he no longer knows his own strength, shooting out the entire contents of a toothpaste tube with a single squeeze and yanking off the knob of a tap while casually turning it, causing water to gush out at him. He experiments with his powers and learns to harness them. He cannot, however, resist using them to humiliate Flash Thompson (Chris Zylka, “Piranha 3DD”), the school bully, who in an earlier scene beat Peter up for no good reason. Peter gets his revenge in glorious, basketball hoop-destroying fashion.

As masked vigilante Spider-Man, Peter becomes a hero of New York City, but not to Police Captain Stacy (Denis Leary, “Ice Age”). Stacy sees Spider-Man as a crook, as a fiend, as an amateur trying to do his job for him. On that last part, he is correct. Comic-book fans will know that Captain Stacy is the father of young Gwen Stacy, who is here played by Emma Stone (“Crazy, Stupid, Love”). Gwen is one of Peter’s classmates and serves the same role that Kirsten Dunst did in the previous three “Spider-Man” films as Peter’s girlfriend, Mary-Jane Watson. I much preferred Gwen to Mary-Jane, who Raimi always left dangling helplessly from something or other. Gwen is smart, funny and heroic, unafraid of bonking a big mutant reptile over the head with a golden trophy.

Ah yes, that big mutant reptile. This is the Lizard, the villain of “The Amazing Spider-Man.” He is the alter-ego of Dr. Curt Connors (Rhys Ifans, “Anonymous”), a brilliant scientist working in the field of cross-species genetics. Connors is obsessed with regaining his right arm, which he lost many years ago and hopes to regrow by injecting himself with lizard DNA (lizards have startling healing powers, apparently, and can regrow their tails). One fateful night, he takes a chance with the serum and soon transforms into a snarling monster fitted with a slithering tail and scaly green skin. Rampaging down a suspension bridge and sending automobiles flying hither and thither, he looks like a mini Godzilla, albeit without the snout and with the ability to speak eloquently worded sentences.

It is the Lizard’s evil plan to turn every citizen of New York City, and probably the world too, into a big mutant reptile, just like him. This, in his mad mind, would create a perfect world, free from sickness and human frailty. This decision came a little too abrupt for my taste: Dr. Curt Connors was, as far as I could tell, well-meaning and level-headed, refusing to experiment on live animals when his serums were not quite ready. Once he transforms into the Lizard he is all of a sudden an unthinking, unblinking psychopath, be he in scaly or non-scaly form. It is up to Spider-Man to thwart his plan, using his super-strength, Spidey-sense and web-shooters to his advantage. Notably, Spider-Man’s webbing is no longer organically produced like it was in Raimi’s films, instead shooting out from ingeniously designed devices strapped to his wrists, like it was in the original Marvel comics.

This inevitably leads to a tense situation in which Spidey’s webbing is no longer available, leaving him helplessly hurtling down the side of a skyscraper, unable to web-sling himself to safety. Don’t worry, though: somebody catches him. The battle between Spidey and the Lizard culminates atop the pointed peak of Oscorp Industries, where an electrifying, heart-stopping and world-endangering race against time ensues. An earlier scuffle inside the corridors, classrooms and library of Peter’s easily demolished high school is equally thrilling, and more than a little funny - deliberately, I mean.

Webb, once a music video maker, shows himself to be a capable creator of spectacle, delivering an action-packed blockbuster soaked not just in special effects but in practical effects too. Featurettes I found on YouTube show that much of the web-slinging is achieved through carefully executed stuntwork, and I believe I spotted the ever-awesome art of parkour at some points in the film. Most of it, though, does appear to be computer-generated, allowing us, through impossibly intricate camerawork, to follow Spidey as he catapults himself through the insides of tower cranes and elegantly glides between the concrete skyscrapers of NYC. Sometimes we are Spider-Man, Webb showing us the sky-high web-slinging from Spider-Man’s dizzying point of view. At times, it is heart-racing, and at others it is quite beautiful. One wonders, though, how well Peter can see out of those yellow-tinted lenses. I suspect his Spider-sense does some of the work there.

This is Webb’s second feature, coming after his 2009 indie hit “(500) Days of Summer.” That was a romantic comedy, and an authentically sentimental one with a convincing central romance. The same can be said for “The Amazing Spider-Man,” at the centre of which is another convincing romance. This is between Peter and Gwen, two young lovebirds whose scenes together are not cheesy but are touching and raise a heartfelt smile. Peter’s awkward proposal that Gwen go out with him, for example, is very sweet: “We could, uhh... or, if you don’t want to, we could, err...” he says, fidgeting. “Either one’s fine,” she replies, with the wryest of smiles. Their first kiss, taking place atop the roof of Gwen’s apartment building, is passionate and spontaneous, coming after Peter reveals a secret to her. Garfield and Stone, both up-and-comers of Hollywood, are a spirited and good-looking pair, and share the kind of bouncy chemistry Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel did in “(500) Days of Summer.” I think I loved Peter and Gwen just as much as I loved those two.

A charismatic screen presence, Garfield makes for an instantly likeable Peter Parker right from the second we see him squeezing his hand into his school locker, just barely pushing aside the canoodling couple leaning against its door. Peter is nerdy, but not too nerdy: he conjures up intricate algorithms with a quick scribble of his pen, but owns a skateboard, and rides it skillfully. He’s lanky and scrawny and fashions an uncombed Tintin quiff. When sliding on his blue-and-red spandex suit, his confidence grows, and he transforms into the chuckling, trash-talking hero we know and love from those classic comic books we used to read under the covers in the dead of night with a torch shining brightly on the vibrantly coloured pages. Garfield is perfect, almost inspired casting, both as Peter and as our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Garfield struggles to shake himself from Spidey’s web. One hopes he can, though.

Comparisons to Raimi’s original trilogy, so fresh in many viewers’ minds, are only inevitable, and I’m aware I have made several in this review. I will say that “Spider-Man 2,” with its riveting action sequences and deliciously menacing villain in the form of Alfred Molina’s Doctor Octopus, remains the high point of the “Spider-Man” franchise, and that “The Amazing Spider-Man” is about on a par with the first “Spider-Man,” which I enjoyed very much. There are times in Webb’s film when it is a true marvel to watch and to experience: it is a shameless summer blockbuster with an undying ability to entertain its audience. As I said earlier, I look forward to its sequel, which won’t have the added pressure of retelling a story we watched being told so recently. That is, unless the villain is the Green Goblin...

Note: I saw the film in 2D, so I cannot comment on the 3D. However, given that much of the film takes place at night-time and in dark and dingy sewers, I’m assuming that the black-tinted glasses would make for quite the eyesore. Save some dosh: go for the 2D.

8/10

Marvel's Avengers Assemble

I don’t need to tell you that “Marvel’s Avengers Assemble” is the full-blown manifestation of many a comic-book nerd’s wet dream - I assume you’ve seen the film’s many marketing materials, which show Iron Man, Thor, Captain America and The Incredible Hulk heroically assembling, and have come to the exact same conclusion all by yourself. What I do need to tell you is that “Marvel’s Avengers Assemble” (I think I’ll refer to it as the slightly less clunky “The Avengers” from here on in) is a superhero film that will not just appeal to this acne-riddled, sweaty-pitted, inevitably drooling crowd, in which I will hesitantly include myself. It is in fact a comic-book nerd’s wet dream that should also appeal to all you non-geeky, non-spotty, non-heavily-perspiring norms, so long as you are fitted with the mental ability and physical capacity to experience earth-shattering levels of eye-popping fun. If so, “The Avengers" awaits your presence. If not, jog on, and go do some knitting or something.

“The Avengers” is a film five years in the making (with Samuel L. Jackson’s character Nick Fury unofficially announcing it at the end of 2008’s “Iron Man”), although some would say it is in fact almost 50 years in the making, the first official “Avengers” strip having debuted on comic-book store shelves all the way back in 1963. Either way, whether it’s half a decade or half a century in the making, the project has been eagerly anticipated, meaning the pressure was on for writer-director Joss Whedon (creator of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”) to deliver the goods, lest he be flung between the fearsome fangs of ferocious fanboys. And gee whiz, the goods haven’t just been delivered: they’ve been painstakingly and vigilantly carried all the way from the glittering gates of Hollywood onto your local cinema’s doorstep by a determined courier who’s gone to great lengths to obey the package’s order of “handle with care.”

In case you don’t know, The Avengers is a team consisting of the universe’s mightiest superheroes. Assembled by S.H.I.E.L.D. director Nick Fury, the team is as such: billionaire industrialist Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr., “Sherlock Holmes”), aka Iron Man, who fights the badguys in a weaponised suit of armour; Thor (Chris Hemsworth, “The Cabin in the Woods”), a god from the world of Asgard whose weapon is a powerful hammer only he can pick up; Steve Rogers (Chris Evans, “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World”), aka Captain America, an all-American super-soldier frozen in 1943 and reawakened in the modern day; and last but most certainly not least, Dr. Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo, replacing “The Incredible Hulk’s" Edward Norton), who, when anything less than happy, transforms into a mindless, green-tinted rage monster named The Hulk. Also on the team we have ass-kicking leather-clad Russian spy Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson, “We Bought a Zoo”) and Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner, “The Hurt Locker”), the world’s greatest marksman, or at least when wielding a bow and arrow kit.

They have been assembled in reaction to a terrible threat against the Earth. After the Tesseract, a throbbing energy cube of unlimited power, is mysteriously activated in a remote S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, Thor’s exiled brother Loki (Tom Hiddleston, “War Horse”), god of mischief, springs forth from a portal. As it turns out, Loki has plans to use the Tesseract to create a portal atop Manhattan from which a hostile alien army shall emerge and take over our world. As I’m sure you can imagine, Earth’s mightiest heroes aren’t too keen on just letting this happen, instead springing into action to put a stop to Loki’s abominable schemes and put the Tesseract back in its rightful place, all for one, and one for all.

The towering hurdle in making a film like “The Avengers,” of which there are very few, is the prospect of juggling such an enormity of larger-than-life characters: everyone must get their development, their stand-out moment, sufficient screen-time and no one must fall behind the rest. Luckily for us, it turns out Whedon is a highly skilled juggler, faultlessly fleshing out a whole gang of pre-established characters and granting each and every one of them a fully believable sense of humanity and purpose, much like he did in his cult TV show “Firefly.” And I’m not just talking about the central Avengers here: for example, Marvel regular Agent Coulson (Clark Gregg, “Mr. Popper’s Penguins”) gets a fully fleshed out character, as well as an appealing nerdy side added to his personality - we even learn his first name! “His first name is Agent,” quips Stark.

Among the Avengers, there’s much in-team squabbling and not-so-playful banter, with not just Cap’s shield and Thor’s hammer clashing with one another (oh yeah) but personalities too. And yet Downey, Jr., Evans, Hemsworth and Ruffalo don’t come across like they’re battling each other for the stand-out performance of the piece; much like their characters, they’re working as a team and seem to understand that it’s not “Iron Man and Friends” or “Cap and Pals,” but “The Avengers.” Having said that, Ruffalo’s Banner, which is the third and best big-screen incarnation of the character, is played with a subtle charisma that really makes him shine, even when Banner isn’t Hulking out, a treat held off for quite a while and paid off stupendously - Ruffalo, by the way, is the only actor to have played both Banner and The Hulk, the latter performed via impressive use of motion-capture.

On the antagonistic end of the spectrum we have Hiddleston in the role of Loki, as relentlessly oppressive and deliciously vain as any villain you’ve ever seen. Much like in “Thor,” Hiddleston charms with his eloquently pronounced English accent and steely glare, but here there are hints of a ruthless, nefariously nasty monster lurking underneath the calm and focused demeanour the wannabe-ruler so boldly wears - calling Black Widow a “mewling quim,” for example. His army of extraterrestrial buddies, skeletal in appearance, are fully CGI creations and lack characterisation, but provide satisfactory punching bags for The Avengers to get to work at.

And get to work they do, battling the seemingly unstoppable alien menace in an explosively destructive, notably lengthy climactic spectacle that calls to mind that of Michael Bay’s “Transformers 3,” only here it’s genuinely gripping, deservedly awe-inspiring and not starring the vapid black hole that is Rosie Huntington-Whiteley. Gorgeously shot by Northern Irish cinematographer Seamus McGarvey, this New York-set, epic showdown grants every hero their moment in the spotlight, not least in a swooping tracking shot that takes us from a shield-thwacking Captain America to a spaceship-crushing Hulk to a speedily flying Iron Man to an arrow-firing Hawkeye, and so on, much like that elaborate tracking shot coming halfway through “The Adventures of Tintin.” It’s bloody marvellous, and is enough to make any major comic-book dork wet their pants in bladder-draining delight.

Then again, that should be the reaction any movie-goer will have to most of the film, which is so enticing, exhilarating and mouth-wateringly enjoyable it should charm the pants off anyone, nerd or non-nerd, though hopefully not The Hulk - that’d be quite the sight in 3D (which is perfectly adequate, though unnecessary). Fitted with a script dripping with the kind of snarky wit Aaron Sorkin would be proud of and the entertainment value of 1,000 superhero movies, “The Avengers" is one of the finest examples to come out of its genre so far and sets the bar toweringly high for the rest of 2012’s superhero outputs (your move, Spider-Man and Batman). Joss Whedon, you’ve done us nerds (and non-nerds) proud.

10/10

Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance

“Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance” is an absolute headache, and I’m not just talking about the sloppy 3D. What I am talking about is a furiously mediocre sequel-slash-reboot to a comic-book stinker from 2007 that saw Nicolas Cage wearing shiny biker gear and having his dodgy hairpiece set on fire along with the rest of his goofy face. Its newly released follow-up is a minor improvement, sure, but that still doesn’t stop the film from being so helplessly inept that it will make you feel like setting your own head on fire – heck, your head may very well just spontaneously combust from the unrelenting tedium of it all.

Last time, the main man behind the camera was Mark Steven Johnson, the director who also gave us second-rate superhero flick “Daredevil” in 2003. This time, there are two main men behind the camera: these are Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor, the dynamic duo who previously gave us nutty 2006 exploitation flick “Crank” and its even nuttier 2009 sequel, “Crank 2: High Voltage.” As expected, their madcap, B-movie style is out in full force here, intended to solve the overwhelming woodenness that plagued the first “Ghost Rider” five whole years ago; trouble is, the film’s script – written by Scott Gimple, Seth Hoffman and David S. Goyer – falls flat as a pancake and consequently spoils all the mischievous surrealism that Neveldine and Taylor have tried to infuse into the film. The end product is a bit of a train wreck – or a motorcycle accident, I suppose – that’s hopelessly disjointed, increasingly wearisome and, most shocking of all, quite a bit dull.

In “Spirit of Vengeance,” Hollywood’s Master of Madness, Mr Nic Cage, returns as former stunt motorcyclist Johnny Blaze, who years ago went all Faust and sold his soul to the Devil to save the life of his dying, cancer-ridden father. Ever since, Blaze has had a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde act going on, regularly transforming into a flame-skulled, chain-wielding, leather-clad demonic bounty hunter who rides about in a fire-spitting Yamaha V-Max and hunts for sinners supposedly deserving of some unholy punishment, Old Testament style.

At the film’s beginning, Blaze is hiding out in Eastern Europe, attempting and struggling to keep the Rider at bay. That is, until warrior monk Moreau (Idris Elba with a dreadful French accent) locates Blaze and requests his help to stop the Devil (a heartily hammy Ciarán Hinds, taking over from the first movie’s Peter Fonda) from getting his hands on a thirteen-year-old boy who is apparently of biblical importance. In exchange, Blaze will be granted the one thing he’s been yearning for ever since he first morphed into a soul-devouring petrol head: freedom from his horrible curse.

And thus the Rider is unleashed, and what an insane creation he is. As played by Cage this time (played by a stuntman in the ’07 version), the Rider is a merciless lunatic who lassoes his victims with his red-hot chain whip and pulls so tight they crumble into burning piles of jet-black charcoal. He can also perform the Penance Stare (killing his victims by gazing long and hard into their defenceless eyeballs), turn mechanical devices he uses into fire-coated machines from Hell, survive ginormous explosions and, as happens in one scene, ride missiles that are launched at him at very, very close range.

Naturally, the scenes featuring the Rider are the most enjoyable parts of the film, but even they are clunky and illogical; take, for example, the Rider’s grand entrance: the Rider crashes the party of a bunch of thugs, slowly crawls off his bike, stands for a while, swaying about awkwardly, grabs one of the thugs, performs the Penance Stare on him for about 30 seconds (displayed much better in the previous film) as the other thugs just stand around and watch from a distance, and then goes back to yet again standing around for a while before finally attacking them; it’s like a clumsily designed fight level of a video game where the player keeps putting the controls down to go do something else – I can’t say I blame the player.

The film very clearly believes itself to be totally badass; grungy guitar riffs blare over the soundtrack as the Rider struts about, rides his bike, pisses fire and vomits lava; one can only wonder what it is that he shits – this film’s script, perhaps? I guess “Spirit of Vengeance” has every right to think of itself as totally badass; the elements are all there for the film to achieve this (the strutting, the riding, the pissing, the vomiting), but the trashy, jumbled script just doesn’t allow for these elements to ever click together in a fluid, coherent fashion, resulting in the film becoming a monotonous bore that struggles to even get its engine started – that’s something one certainly doesn’t want out of a film featuring a gurning Nicolas Cage shrieking into a man’s face, squealing about how the Rider is “scraping at the door” and how he is going to “eat” the man’s “stinking soul;” this is an Oscar-winning actor reading these lines, ladies and gentlemen.

Neveldine and Taylor apply their wildly anarchic filming style wherever applicable, catapulting their cameramen into the air and putting roller blades on their cameramen’s feet for them to chase speeding cars; I must say, the behind-the-scenes stuff I found on YouTube was much more fun than the film itself. The film is certainly creatively shot and uniquely so for the superhero genre. The special effects are also rather nifty; the CGI used to create the Rider here is at least a vast improvement over the Rider of ’07. From a purely visual standpoint, the film would be perfectly fine, had it not been for the utterly useless, thoroughly flat 3D and the drab middle-of-nowhere locations in which the film is primarily set; I don’t believe “flat and drab” is a glowing recommendation for a film that’s supposedly all about a glorious, explosive spectacle of hellfire and damnation, do you?

Could the character of the Ghost Rider ever work on-screen in the same way it apparently has in the Marvel line of comic books? Well, considering the fact that the character is little more than a walking tattoo, I very much doubt it could; this is a character who, by his very nature, has no soul in his chest and no meat on his bones – truly caring about him seems an impossible task, and one that Neveldine and Taylor have failed to resolve here. The end result is a film in which we are entirely unable to care about any of the characters or action set-pieces because the script is so utterly useless at dealing with character interaction and narrative coherency that we spend much of the film scratching our skulls in cock-eyed confusion over what the flaming hell is going on – all the wacky visuals and gurning Nicolas Cages in the world can’t save this unholy mess.

3/10

Captain America: The First Avenger

It’s with the release of “Captain America: The First Avenger” that the superhero genre takes a well-deserved break until 2012. Earlier this year, the genre has offered us “The Green Hornet,” “Thor,” “Super,” “X-Men: First Class” and “Green Lantern,” which amounts to a bit of a mixed bag for 2011 superhero flicks. And if anything, the very decent “Captain America” thankfully pushes this generally mixed bag further into positive light.

“Captain America” is directed by Joe Johnston, the man who previously gave us the somewhat similar “The Rocketeer” in 1991. It is of course based on the notably patriotic Marvel Comics superhero who first appeared in 1941 in his very own comic book worth 10 cents, the cover of which depicted him swinging his knuckles into the face of Adolf Hitler; go America, I guess.

In case you don’t know, the true identity of Cap USA is Steve Rogers, and the character is here played charmingly by befittingly American actor Chris Evans (“Scott Pilgrim vs. the World”). For the first 40-or-so minutes of the film, when Steve is still to be turned all superhuman, Evans’ markedly beefy body is altered through special effects to appear small and scrawny, an effect which is rather seamless.

We are introduced to Steve in 1942 when his application for military service and to fight the Nazis is rejected due to his unsatisfactory health. Not one to back down from a fight, Steve does not let this rejection phase him and continues to try and earn the right to serve his country in the war. While conversing about his determination with his soldier buddy Bucky (Sebastian Stan, “Hot Tub Time Machine”), scientist Dr. Abraham Erskine (Stanley Tucci, “Easy A”) overhears, and accepts him for a specific army project.

Soon enough, Steve is training along with much fitter, much more physically capable men, though this does nothing to discourage his ambitions. Recognising Steve’s unflinching bravery and earnest integrity, Erskine chooses him to go first for the top-secret Super Soldier program, in which Steve shall be placed inside a coffin-like machine and transformed into a superhuman superhero if all goes according to plan; I don’t think this was standard procedure.

And before you can say, “America, fuck yeah,” Steve’s skinny body is stripped of its frail scrawniness and replaced with muscular buffness and Herculean strength. And thus we get Captain America, the wartime symbol of the USA’s power and vigor, with Steve fitted inside a star-spangled outfit and wielding a metallic shield to fight some non-American scoundrels (fret not, non-Americans; the film isn’t as flag-waving as you may presume).

Steve Rogers is pretty much the perfect superhero protagonist. Within our first few glimpses of the man, we get the sense that he is the kind of human being we all should be looking up to. He is shown to be heroic, noble, determined and moral, fitted with willpower, decency and personal strength, absolutely set on courageously serving the country he loves. He doesn’t want to kill anyone, but he doesn’t like bullies such as the evil Nazis. He’s capable of self-sacrifice and will never run away from a fight. It’s not necessarily the power-granting serum that makes him a hero; he already is one.

And then there’s Johann Schmidt, the film’s main antagonist, played outstandingly by go-to badguy Hugo Weaving (“V for Vendetta”). Schmidt is the leader of HYDRA, the Nazis’ research and technology organisation, and he is infatuated with finding magical artefacts, much to the disapproval of his superiors. In the opening scene, we witness him stealing a glowing, cube-shaped energy source, which he plans to use in his scheme to take over the world. Also aiding him is his previous injection with an early version of the super-soldier serum Cap has been given, which has unfortunately had some physical side-effects on Schmidt (under his skin-mask is the face of someone who forgot to put on some suntan lotion when visiting the sun).

Captain America and Schmidt are very much arch-nemeses; their powers come from the same source, yet they are of entirely opposite mindsets. Steve claims to be “just a kid from Brooklyn,” while Schmidt believes himself to be a supreme being. Steve stands for all the values and ideals that are right and ethical in this world, while Schmidt wants to have the world all to himself, regardless of how many of those on his side and the other side die for it. Steve is the perfect man; Schmidt is a horrific monster.

In the vein of Johnston’s very own aforementioned “The Rocketeer,” the film is a stylised period piece, fitted with all the early ‘40s details mixed in with technology that’s advanced even for our time. There are ray guns that zap grown men into nothing but thin air in a fraction of a second, serums that grant superpowers, a flying car, and an indestructible, impenetrable shield made from an incredibly rare metal. Even the HYDRA drones remind one of the Stormtroopers from “Star Wars.”

The action scenes are also stylised, someone on the production team evidently having taken some tips from Zack Snyder’s “300,” with the action slowed down and sped back up to normal speed in single takes. Captain America hurls his shield in the air, knocks HYDRA soldiers off their feet and leaps from the roofs of moving cars onto the roofs of other moving cars. It’s all very nifty, very cool and a little bit thrilling. I’d also like to add that I saw the film in 2-D and thus cannot comment on the 3-D, though I’ve heard from many others that it’s a lousy post-conversion (the film looks lovely in plain 2-D anyway).

Is the premise of “Captain America” preposterous? Yes, of course it is, even more so with the World War II setting (70 years later, we‘ve still to make our first Superman). But we must remember it’s a superhero movie, and preposterousness is to be expected, our belief to be suspended for a couple of hours as we watch the virtuous powers of good fight the abominable powers of evil. Do this, and you’re sure to have fun with this charming, perfectly enjoyable superhero flick.

8/10

Green Lantern

I think we’ve all been waiting for a “Green Lantern” movie for friggin’ yonks, haven’t we? I mean, we’ve watched together as all the other comic book superheroes received the summer blockbuster treatment over the past few years, and “Green Lantern” will have been top of the list for everyone, yes? Because everyone knows about “Green Lantern,” don’t they? And everyone loves “Green Lantern.” Oh yes, everyone knows about the Green Lantern Corps and their power rings and their big planet thingy and their, uhh, their green lanterns. And they’re obviously very iconic pieces of American culture, recognised by everyone on the face of the Earth. So, surely every moviegoer on the globe has been dying to see a “Green Lantern” film on the big silver screen, to see everyone’s favourite character in the flesh and bone, and here it finally is, allowing for us all to relieve our universal anticipation once and for all. Well, phew! Fi-na-lly. I was beginning to worry for a moment there.

Okay, I’ll stop all the sarcasm. So maybe the “Green Lantern” name or concept is not as particularly well-known to Mr. and Mrs. Tax-Payer as, say, “Batman” or “Superman” (though maybe it’s more of a familiarity in the realms of the super-nerd), but surely you wouldn’t think lack of existing awareness of the concept would falter the quality of the mega-budget big-screen adaptation in any way. And you’d be right, it doesn’t, just like it didn‘t with Jon Favreau‘s “Iron Man” in 2008; the problem is that this Martin Campbell-directed summer blockbuster will do nothing but taint and bruise the name and property that is DC’s “Green Lantern,” what with how badly handled the subject material is.

Now, as you may have assumed, I have never glanced at a single page of a “Green Lantern” comic book in my life. I have never looked into the story or the characters. I have never previously read up on anything about the comic book’s history whatsoever. Heck, the only memory of the source material I have is once hearing the name at one point when I was a small boy. So I went into this film completely fresh, putting the footage from trailers and TV spots aside, and I found the concept of “Green Lantern” to be interesting. Its talk of intergalactic beings, the powers of will and fear, and power rings charged by lanterns is silly, but it’s undoubtedly interesting. However, as a narrative and as a story in general, this concept is squandered rather badly, barely anything about the film carrying the slightest impact that would make it a satisfying watch. I’m sure it works fine in 30-or-so pages of panels and speech bubbles, but in a live-action film it seemingly does not.

But what is this story that is wasted so spectacularly? Well, our protagonist is Hal Jordan (Ryan Reynolds, “Buried”), an irresponsible loose cannon of a test pilot who has just accidentally blown up a very expensive aircraft during a test program. That night, Hal is very unexpectedly transported via a flying green sphere to the site of  a UFO crash. Inside this mysterious craft lies a fatally wounded purple-skinned alien called Abin-Sur (Temuera Morrison, “Once Were Warriors“). The dying extraterrestrial hands Hal a ring and tells the baffled human that it chose him specifically out of all the inhabitants of planet Earth. Abin-Sur dies, and Hal speeds off with the ring and a lantern-shaped object sitting within the spacecraft.

Later, Hal is transported again, but this time to a planet called Oa. There, a walking, talking fish dude named Tomar-Re (Geoffrey Rush, “The King’s Speech”) informs Hal that he is now part of the Green Lantern Corps, a group of thousands of alien species who are essentially a police force in the vastness of space, each member assigned to their own corner of the universe to protect. They are peacekeepers, protecting the cosmos from evil using an assortment of powers, which include flying through the air and being able to construct any object they can picture in their head. It’s a pity the filmmakers couldn’t construct a decent script.

Hal seems to take this quite well, up until he decides it’s too much for him and essentially quits while training. However, he is called into battle when human scientist Hector Hammond (Peter Sarsgaard, “An Education”) becomes infected with the DNA of the monster that killed Abin-Sur, turning him into a deformed nutcase who can control objects with his head and read the minds of others (though the filmmakers seem to forget he has this ability once it is introduced).

Oh, and the monster that killed Abin-Sur, the DNA of which is running through Hector’s veins? This is Parallax, a diabolical creature of evil that feasts on the “yellow” fear of his trembling victims (which is handy, because Parallax would scare the pants off even Darth Vader). As he munches on the terror of his prey, he becomes bigger and badder, eventually growing into a massive bulb head with a gazillion dirty, smoky tentacles dangling from his snarling skull, and Hal must face up to this dreaded beast all by himself. It’s like a greenfly going up against Bob Marley.

With this premise, the film is inevitably reliant on a ton of CGI to be mixed in with reality, as Hal hops through space and fabricates items from his imagination. And in terms of special effects, “Green Lantern” is stunning, the flying, fighting and the sights of Oa quite breathtaking; the no-doubt millions of dollars spent on the SFX have certainly been well-spent. And the post-converted 3D, while perhaps unnecessary, is fine and not particularly distracting or headache-inducing. On a visual level, “Green Lantern” is unquestionably a hit; it’s in every other area that trouble begins to brew.

The main problem is how disposable the film is as a whole. You see, “Green Lantern” suffers from the fact that it doesn’t have the slightest impact as a cinematic experience whatsoever. While you may find yourself enjoying the fight scenes and the hideous transformation of Hector Hammond, they will be long forgotten as soon as you step outside the movie theatre. I know that the initial thrills of the punching, kicking and object constructing that the movie presented meant nothing as I approached the exit of the multiplex; I began to dislike the film mere seconds after it ended. Basically, if you want to like “Green Lantern,” don’t think about the film at all when the end credits roll, or you’ll begin to feel unsatisfied and displeased, much as I was.

It’s not the absurdity of the plot itself that’s the problem; the story is convincing enough for the most part. It’s that the narrative is far too generic and unimpressive, and the villains don’t feel like they do too much. Not to spoil the movie for you, but Hector Hammond’s screen-time is cut a little too short, and we also don’t see the colossal Parallax doing anything of interest until the underwhelming climax. The character of Hal also isn’t interesting enough to sustain every other scene, in spite of Reynolds’ charming performance. And his hackneyed romance with co-worker and old flame Carol Ferris (Blake Lively, “Gossip Girl”) is one of the most insipid things I’ve seen in a film for quite some time.

I would say “Green Lantern” is more suitable for children, but on second thought it sort of isn’t. There are some rather naughty words scattered throughout, and the opening scene is pretty darn terrifying (we watch as a group of aliens get the fear literally sucked out of their bodies). So who exactly would I say “Green Lantern” is for? The truth is, I’m not really sure. Teenagers, maybe? But “Transformers” is for teenagers, and I walked out of that movie knowing I had a good time. But no matter whom its intended audience may be, “Green Lantern” is still a lacklustre piece of superhero entertainment, a shortcoming which is worsened by the presence of  Kenneth Branagh‘s “Thor” and Matthew Vaughn‘s “X-Men: First Class” earlier this year.

5/10

X-Men: First Class

After eleven short years and five cash-guzzling hit movies, the timeline of the "X-Men" franchise is well and truly knackered. Questionable continuity issues run amuck throughout the series started by director Bryan Singer as it tries to juggle a boatload of characters taken from the Marvel source material, sometimes clumsily dropping them and not knowing where to put them back again. Just like the cringe-worthy embarrassment that was Gavin Hood's "X-Men Origins: Wolverine" of 2009, Matthew Vaughn's "X-Men: First Class" has taken a vast number of creative liberties, the continuity now beaten to a bloody pulp. But out of this has come a film with a story that is as captivating and fascinating as any other; narrative cohesion takes a few steps back for inspired filmmaking to take centre stage.

As the title suggests, "First Class" is the prequel to the original trilogy, telling the story of how the first set of X-Men came to be. It also explains the back-story of the relationship between Professor X and Magneto, an aspect of the previous films that was always clouded in mystery and intrigue. And by golly, is it intriguing here.

The film starts with a reshoot of the 1944 Poland-set opening scene of 2000's "X-Men," which may cause some to think the projectionist is playing the wrong film, but no, it's a lovely call-back to Singer's original. Young Erik Lensherr (16-year-old Bill Milner) is being separated from his mother by Nazi soldiers, angering the small boy so much he manages to twist and disfigure metal gates using only his mind. Sebastian Shaw (Kevin Bacon, "Super") becomes interested in the metal-manipulator, and proceeds to cruelly experiment on him, callously killing Erik's mother in the process.

And then we're in 1960s England, where Oxford-graduating psychic mind-invader Charles Xavier (James McAvoy, "Atonement") has written a thesis on genetic mutation, a topic on which he is a genius. He is rarely seen without insecure shape-shifter Raven Darkholme (Jennifer Lawrence, "Winter's Bone") nearby, the two having been close friends ever since Raven broke into his mansion when they were both kids.

Charles and Erik soon cross paths when they coincidentally both go after Shaw at the same time. Charles is now helping the CIA after Agent Moira MacTaggart (Rose Byrne, "Insidious") seeks his help in tracking down Shaw, who is wickedly trying to spark World War III. Erik (now played by Michael Fassbender, "Inglourious Basterds") has angrily but carefully been out to avenge his mother's death and has finally been able to discover Shaw's location. The simultaneous attempts at taking Shaw down fail miserably (it turns out he and his buddies are rather powerful mutants), but it is through this that Erik and Charles meet for the very first time.

Soon enough, the two new best buds begin assembling a team of mutants together, using the device Cerebro to locate these extremely gifted individuals. As they train and develop their unique powers, America and Russia are on the verge of nuclear war, the world soon requiring the assistance of the shiny new team to obliterate Shaw and his loyal gang.

I take little hesitation in calling "X-Men: First Class" a masterpiece, the film now taking its place amongst the very best of its kind; yes, I'm looking at you, "The Dark Knight." This is a movie that gets every tiny little aspect of itself absolutely right, every single scene utterly jaw-dropping, leaving an incredibly miniscule amount of things to falter; even the shaky make-up jobs on Beast (Nicholas Hoult, "About a Boy") and Mystique look fine once one gets used to them.

This is a superhero blockbuster that pays close attention to its characters, to their emotions and to the drama at the centre of the plot. We have the revenge aspect, as Erik tries to do his departed mother justice by killing Shaw. There's Charles' attempts at making Erik see that vengeance will solve nothing, as a stubborn Erik fails to listen. There's also the slightest hint of a romance between Mystique and Beast, two young adults who have to hide their true forms to fit in with the rest of society. These are all very heartfelt storylines that interweave with each other perfectly to really emphasise these characters as people who we learn to care for. Amongst all the spectacle, it's the human (or mutant) touch that really makes this movie special, lifting it high above many others of the genre.

But the spectacle is still here, the film showing off some nifty special effects as our mutants battle it out for survival and show off their astonishing abilities. Amongst these freaks of nature are Havok (Lucas Till, "Battle: Los Angeles"), who can blast rays of energy from his chest; Angel (Zoë Kravitz, "It's Kind of a Funny Story"), who has insect wings attached to her back; Banshee (Caleb Landry Jones, "The Last Exorcism"), who can scream a hypersonic squeal; and Darwin (Edi Gathegi, "Twilight"), whose body can adapt to survive any situation he is in. And on the villain's side, Shaw has the ability to absorb all forms of energy (the more you hit him, the stronger he gets), Emma Frost (January Jones, "Mad Men") can read minds and turn her whole body into pure diamond, red-skinned Azazel (Jason Flemyng, "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button") can teleport, and Riptide (newcomer Álex González) can create tornados in the blink of an eye. Phew!

Their powers are all displayed in full force in the 20-minute epic finale, a big battle scene that is utterly stunning and exhilarating as objects explode and crash and go boom (well, I don‘t want to give too much away). There's also a scene in which Shaw breaks into the young mutants' lair, slaughtering bodyguards one by one along with Azazel and Riptide, a sequence that is nothing short of awe-inspiring. English director Matthew Vaughn of "Kick-Ass" fame shows yet again a speciality for scenes of the action-packed persuasion, giving us a more than satisfying extravaganza of blockbuster thrills.

While McAvoy is a wonderful Professor X, the Scottish actor playing Xavier as this charming egghead (who downs a yard of ale in a pub in one scene), it is Fassbender who steals the show as Erik, aka Magneto. There's a mesmerising sternness to his performance, giving this character a steely-eyed determination that's both intimidating but sympathetic at the same time. You know this character is out for revenge and that his actions are extreme, but you also know that the man he's after is pure evil (Bacon is fabulously menacing, and his sideburns are magical). His portrayal is intensely engaging, actually making me well up at one point when Charles taps into Erik's head and reawakens an old memory of Erik's mother for him. Shut up, I have something in my eye. Okay, it's a tear. Gimme a damn tissue.

"X-Men: First Class" flawlessly breathes new life into a dying franchise, making for a refreshingly intelligent comic book superhero flick, and what I see as the best in the series thus far (yes, even better than the masterful "X2"). Mixing in some aspects of James Bond with spectacular special-effects action, "First Class" is a monumental achievement, and the kind of blockbuster entertainment that we depressingly do not get enough of. I never thought I'd say this, but I want more "X-Men" sequels. Now.

10/10

Thor

Kicking off 2011’s summer of big-budget blockbusters is superhero flick "Thor," probably one of the most challenging stories for Marvel Studios to adapt onto the silver screen from the pages of a comic book. This is not necessarily because of the arguably second-rate awareness of the eponymous character himself, but because creating "Thor" requires one to create a fantasy world, another dimension which must convince and adequately intrigue general movie-goers. Unlike the company's recent cinematic triumphs such as "Iron Man" and "The Incredible Hulk," "Thor" takes place partially in a realm separate from our own, one with its own rich history and logic, and to build this calls for an ambience of epicness, which director Kenneth Branagh has thankfully relished in.

This world of which I speak is Asgard, which is located in a magical dimension that is certainly not our own. Its design is of polished gold, its grand kingdom furnished specifically for a noble king. This king is Odin (Anthony Hopkins, "The Wolfman"), a white-bearded god with a metallic eye patch covering his right peeper. He has a wife, Frigga (Rene Russo, "Yours, Mine and Ours"), and two sons, Thor (Chris Hemsworth, "Star Trek") and Loki (Tom Hiddleston, "Archipelago").

Thor is the eldest of the two brothers, and is thus heir to the powerful thrown. As pointed out by his father, he is arrogant, vain, greedy and cruel. He wears a red cape and wields a powerful hammer called Mjolnir, a mighty mallet that can cause more damage than when a packet of Mentos is dropped into a bottle of Diet Coke. Seriously, that combination can take an eye out.

After a breach in Asgard's security almost leads to the theft of a sacred artefact, Thor decides to take matters into his own massive hands, and (despite his father's insistence that it would do no good) attempts revenge on the evil Frost Giants (just go with it). Following his defiance, Thor is banished from Asgard for the trouble he has caused and the war he has resparked, stripped of his armour and his beloved power-giving hammer.

He winds up on Earth, in the New Mexico desert to be exact, and meets mortal scientists Jane Foster (Natalie Portman, "Black Swan"), Erik Selvig (Stellan Skarsgård, "Mamma Mia!") and Darcy Lewis (Kat Dennings, "Defendor"). Assuming the rambling Norse god is a deluded drunk, they zap him with a tazer and take him to the hospital, where he inflicts some unprovoked violence on the unsuspecting staff. From here on, the trio are stuck with a man they believe to be a schizophrenic nutcase, but become more and more convinced by his claims that he is indeed Thor, god of thunder and son of Odin, as he tries to get back into Asgard and hold his enormous tool in his hand once again. I can hear you sniggering.

Meanwhile, in Thor's homely kingdom, Loki sees his chance to become ruler of Asgard, what with dad's favourite son being cast down to Earth. He is determined that his overshadowing brother never returns from his exile, while the god of mischief plots to take over the reigning role of his elderly father. Maybe he got bored of taking over Jim Carrey's body and dancing to jazz music with Cameron Diaz. SSSMOKIN'!

"Thor" is high camp, with Norse gods marching about in glistening armour and horned helmets that look neck-crushingly heavy, yelling at each other in perfectly stated Shakespearean English. The scenes in the grandiose kingdom of Asgard may have run the risk of being pretty darn laughable, but there's an unexpected sternness to them that counteracts any possible corniness. If anything, the scenes on Earth are cheesier than that of the alien realm. Also, it's difficult to not get caught up in what is ultimately a very fascinating world unlike our own, all rendered in beautiful CGI.

In true blockbuster fashion, the film is a special-effect spectacle that's bursting at the seems with computerised trickery, all showcased in post-converted 3D (which I should add is barely noticeable after a while). This is not only utilised to create the fantasy world of Asgard, but also the menacing robotic Destroyer, guardian of a sacred Asgardian artefact, his head opening up to blast out a raging fireball that roasts any nearby enemies. There's also the cold-as-ice Frost Giants, a whole species of monsters who live in a land made of ice (Jotunheim, not Iceland). Their skin is chilled blue, and their eyes are as red as the cheeks of a schoolboy who's just had his trousers yanked down to his ankles in the playground. These creatures will chill you to the bone. Literally.

Our godly hero is played stunningly by hunky Hemsworth, bringing a knowing sense of cheek and swagger to the hammer-thumping role. The Australian actor, standing at 6'3" tall, is a mammoth of a man, bound in muscles and oozing with genuine on-screen charisma, making for an enthralling and amusing protagonist for us to root for. When he dons his helmet, swings his hammer and yells at the top of his lungs, you know this man means serious business.

There's also Hopkins and Hiddleston as a father and son who struggle to connect with each other, the father always having favoured his older boy. Hopkins is not as hammy as usual, his character's status as a god fulfilled by the sheer gravitas of Mr. Hannibal Lecter's performance. Hiddleston manages to get across a sense of jealousy over the attention Thor receives, which raises his ambitions to show 'em all what he’s made of and rule the whole of Asgard all by himself, while yearning to impress his father.

Given that this is English director Kenneth Branagh's first real venture outside of Shakespeare adaptations and period dramas, "Thor" is ruddy impressive. He gives a full sense of a truly epic scope, perfectly balancing moments of fantastical absurdity with moments of lighthearted fish-out-of-water humour (like when Thor charges into a pet store and demands to be given a horse). The film is also tantalising when the action kick-starts and the hammers fly, the more adrenaline-pumped sequences suitably thrilling. I wasn't sure if Branagh could handle it all, but by Odin's beard, he does. He should calm down on all the Dutch tilts, though; they damn near gave me a headache.

In the run-up to next year's massively anticipated "The Avengers," "Thor" gives more promise to the mouth-watering prospect of the on-screen team-up of Captain America, Iron Man, The Hulk and Thor. However, the film doesn't feel like one big advertisement (ahem, "Iron Man 2") for the big event, instead simply taking on the role of a magnificent, technically-impressive comic-book fantasy that excites, enchants and thoroughly entertains. You're up next, Captain America. Don't disappoint us.

9/10