Power vs. Responsibility: A review of "Man of Steel"

WARNING: SOME SPOILERS AHEAD

I went into Man of Steel with only medium expectations; I expected to get my money’s worth, and perhaps even justify the purchase of popcorn and a small soda, but not the greatest superhero film of all time. Although I was correct on the latter point, Man of Steel is nevertheless the best Superman film of all time, and as a die-hard fan of Christopher Reeve’s portrayal of Superman, it feels very strange to say that. 

Sorry, Chris. You're still the best Superman actor, if it makes you feel any better.

One of the biggest flaws of the 2006 bomb Superman Returns was casting. Although Kevin Spacey was perfectly cast as Lex Luthor, capturing both the calculating cruelty of the comic book version and also the impudent charm of the Gene Hackman version, the rest of the cast was pretty poor. Brandon Routh looked like Reeve, certainly, but his Clark Kent came across more effeminate than nebbish. Kate Bosworth was simultaneously too young and too unassuming to portray the strong investigative reporter Lois Lane. Even Frank Langella was woefully miscast as Perry White, his only memorable line being a lackluster uttering of “Great Caesar’s ghost.” 

Behold! The only good thing in that awful, awful movie.

Man of Steel does not repeat that mistake in casting. First off, Henry Cavill, who I had first seen as an awkward teen in The Count of Monte Cristo, was born to play Superman. Reeve will always be my favorite, but Cavill is the first actor in more than 25 years to truly pull off the role. His Superman is regal, gallant and . . . well . . . nice, the way Superman is supposed to be. He’s a genuinely good guy, which is surprising in an era of angst and anti-heroes. And although I did and still do mourn the loss of the red overshorts, Superman is portrayed in such a dynamic fashion that his accessories are the last thing we're focusing on. He's zipping through the sky with giddy abandon when he first learns to fly, and his joy is contagious to the audience. Then, when he's racing to stop a world-threatening menace (that has apparently stolen Doctor Octopus' metal tentacles), he rockets along with purpose and power. This is the Superman that 1978's movie magic couldn't give us in practice but desperately wanted to give us in spirit. This Superman feels super. 

"My hands may be in chains, but my crotch has never felt so free . . ."

Amy Adams, too, surprisingly reinvigorates Lois Lane after years of associating her with the likes of Bosworth and Teri (blech) Hatcher. She has wit, smarts and moxie, but she is also sweet, willing to scrap the biggest story of her career because she sees good in the alien invader she has discovered. Be prepared for product placement, though, as her Nikon camera always seems to find its way into the foreground when she’s on-screen. 

"Now kiss!"

Michael Shannon’s General Zod does not demand that anyone kneel; he assumes that shoving his boot in your face will get the message across. He’s a very different kind of villain from what we’ve seen in recent blockbusters. He isn’t a sneaky plotter like Loki in The Avengers. He isn’t a brutal-yet-hammy bruiser like Bane in The Dark Knight Rises. He’s not even a cold, manipulative killer like Benedict Cumberbatch’s portrayal of Khan in Star Trek into Darkness. Devoid of the charisma that made those three memorable, Zod is just a very angry man who thinks he’s doing what he’s supposed to do to preserve his people, by any means necessary. He does not smile. He does not deliver witty one-liners. He does not relent. And that works very well. I was initially unfamiliar with Shannon's work, and frankly, I was worried when I heard the interview in which he talked about preparing for the role of Zod. He seemed rather bland and disinterested, and I didn't expect him to bring much intensity to the role. Aaaand then I saw this (don't watch if easily offended by profanity). Talk about intensity. Plus, his one-track drive to finish what he started leads Superman to cross a serious line, something no other enemy, not Luthor, Brainiac or even that danged Mr. Mxyzptlk (unless you count "Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow," in my opinion the greatest Superman story of all time), can boast. 

"If you're planning to break my World Engine, DON'T F***ING BOTHER SHOWING UP!"

Something that really stood out in the film is the way both of Superman’s fathers, biological and adoptive, laid down their lives to protect him. Jor-El, played superbly by Russell Crowe, is murdered by Zod after sending little Kal-El to Earth in a rocket. And Jonathan Kent, played by Kevin Costner, dies in a tornado after convincing his son not to save him, so as to protect his identity. This . . . really rubbed me the wrong way, and I’ll tell you why: Superman is supposed to be a selfless figure who uses his powers to help people. He is truly the epitome of Spider-Man’s “With great power comes great responsibility” mantra, and he displays that character many times throughout the film. But who the heck did he learn it from? Certainly not from the man who raised him, that’s for sure. After saving a bus-load of kids from drowning, Pa Kent suggests that maybe Clark should have just let them drown; after all, saving a few human lives isn’t worth blowing his secret. I know he’s just trying to protect his son, but compare that to Uncle Ben telling Peter Parker about power and responsibility; he didn’t even know his nephew had super powers, but he still wanted him to understand that doing right sometimes means putting someone else’s well-being ahead of your own. That seems like the kind of thing Pa Kent would have told Clark, too, but he kind of went the opposite direction there. Throughout the movie's flashbacks, Pa keeps telling Clark he was sent to Earth for some purpose, and he's meant for great things, but at every turn he stifles his potential, telling him the world isn't ready for him. Talk about a lack of faith in his son, which, thankfully, Clark ultimately rises above (and yes, as it turns out, the world is ready). Jor-El, on the other hand, actually has some good fatherly wisdom to impart, encouraging Clark to save people AND to test the limits of his power, which Pa seemed adamantly against, despite his insistence that Clark has a bigger purpose. 

"Well, gee, son, when I said you were sent here for a reason, I meant football scholarships and a million-dollar signing bonus with the Chiefs. I didn't expect you to, y'know, get all altruistic and stuff."

There’s also kind of a good, old-fashioned allegory for communism vs. capitalism in the film. Krypton is portrayed as a heavily bureaucratic society in which everyone’s roles are predestined before they are even birth, and to forge one’s own destiny is . . . well . . . unheard of. That’s what makes Jor-El such a revolutionary, because he wants his son to have a chance to live his own life. Indeed, Zod is portrayed as a slave to his own nature, claiming he was born and bred to be a warrior and must therefore follow a bloody path. Superman is the American archetype, fighting for individuality and personal autonomy. 

Ummm . . .

Ultimately, Man of Steel is not as good as last year’s The Avengers; indeed, it’s not even quite as good as this year’s Star Trek into Darkness. But it’s still a fantastic movie, Costner's two-facedness notwithstanding, and hopefully the start of a great franchise, just as Christopher Nolan’s Batman films were, and Zack Snyder (who also directed the truly epic film adaptation of Watchmen) was the perfect choice to revitalize the character. You will believe a man can fly . . . and carry on an epic battle with another flying dude in the middle of a crumbling city. Or, for that matter, in an IHOP. 

"Welcome to IHOP . . . b!+ch!"

I give Man of Steel a well-deserved 4/5. Go see it in theaters, for sure, but maybe go out to get a popcorn refill after the bus scene. 

The Dark Knight Rises - The Review by Chris Roll

The Dark Knight Rises

Review by Chris Roll

As The Dark Knight Rises begins, Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) is starting to feel his age. He hasn’t ventured out as Batman in eight years, since the Harvey Dent debacle. And, thanks to Dent’s not-entirely-true legacy as a champion of the people, legislation has been passed to keep violent criminals off the streets of Gotham. Batman is no longer needed . . . and yet Batman is always needed. 

The Dark Knight Rises is the conclusion of an epic hero’s tale begun with Batman Begins. And what a beginning it was. The first film brought legitimacy back to Batman’s public image, redeeming it from the blaring, Day-Glo nightmare that was Batman and Robin, and utilized a realistic setting and highly capable actors to tell the tale. Christopher Nolan (Memento, Inception), while a surprising choice to reboot Batman's messy film history, crafted an excellent storyline with a strong beginning and a very fitting ending. 

Well-cast and developed villains aided the trilogy immensely. Batman Begins had Ra's Al Ghul (Liam Neeson) and the cool-as-a-cucumber Scarecrow (Cillian Murphy). As a father figure, Ra’s hit close to home as a nemesis later in the film. The Dark Knight took things to a new level, introducing a nemesis who was very different from Batman, but also disturbingly similar. The Dark Knight also gave us District Attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart), who was the other side of Batman’s coin (haw-haw!). He was what Bruce could have been in every respect, both good and bad (Two-Face, yo). None of these villains, not even the perennially-recurring Scarecrow (who cameos in The Dark Knight Rises, too), ever truly brought Batman down, though. Only Bane (Tom Hardy) could break the Bat.

Yes, it really does happen. Brutally. “I wondered what would break first,” Bane chortles as he manhandles the creaky, 37-ish Batman. “Your spirit . . . or your body!” At which point he heaves Batman up and breaks him over his knee. Yowch. Anybody who’s read the comics saw it coming, but even so, yowch. And the torture is only beginning . . .

The overarching theme of the film is legacy. Who will carry on the dreams and aspirations of Gotham’s major players? Batman has taken a shine to the sly cat burglar in town, Selina Kyle (Anne Hathaway), and he attempts to take her under his wing (please, stop me now before I make any more puns). Commissioner Gordon (Gary Oldman) seeks out rookie cop John Blake (Joseph Gordon Levitt) as his right-hand man, but Blake, who acts as a Robin of sorts, prefers Batman’s methods over the constraints of law despite never donning a costume. Wayne Enterprises, too, has languished in Wayne’s absence, so Bruce Wayne must choose a successor for his company’s legacy, in the form of the lovely but mysterious Miranda Tate (Marion Cotillard). And we meet the heir to Ra’s Al Ghul’s legacy, too. Hoo-boy. 

We also see what many have called, tongue-in-cheek, “Occupy Gotham.” Bane and his crew cut Gotham off from all outside aid and dumps the social order on its head. Basically, the inmates are running the asylum (well, technically the inmates are running the prison, because Arkham is never shown. Probably so the Joker wouldn’t have to be accounted for), there’s chaos in the streets and the rich and the police and the politicians are getting their “just rewards” at the hands of the 99%. By “just rewards,” of course, they are sentenced to either death or exile. And since exile means walking out over thin ice, exile means death. Anyway, despite the mob rule, life in Gotham really sucks with Bane in charge. So Batman leads the police in a final stand against the Occupiers. And they win. And it’s awesome. And a whooooole lot of angry young liberals watching the film got a whole lot angrier. Delicious! Frank Miller would love it.

Christian Bale’s acting in the trilogy has been a mixed bag. His Bruce Wayne is easily superior to any other live action portrayals thus far, showing us the vulnerabilities as well as the strengths of the man behind the cowl. In this film, his vulnerabilities are amplified by injury, and he is forced to use a cane throughout the first half-hour of the film because of his ravaged knees. Bale’s Batman, however, is painful to watch at times, but always fun to laugh at. The voice is as silly as it ever was (the overdone voice was acceptable in the first film, as Batman was just getting started, but he’s had plenty of time to refine it. And yet he hasn’t!), and Bats gets to splutter, “WHERE ARE THEY?” once more. It’s all in good fun, but Batman is impossible to take seriously. Fortunately, we only see Batman for about ten to fifteen minutes. The rest is pure Bruce, which is preferable. 

In terms of supporting cast, Gary Oldman continues to be a good if slightly goofy Commissioner Gordon. He’s simultaneously very capable and inept, which is, I suppose, the nature of the character. Michael Caine’s Alfred remains Bruce Wayne’s greatest ally, but he departs the film very quickly (due to reasons I will not spoil here), and his absence is felt. It is no wonder that Batman’s darkest hour comes when he does not have Alfred in his corner, because Alfred is so much more than just “the help.” Alfred keeps Bruce’s mind in the game, keeps him alive, allows him some sense of normalcy and keeps him from going crazy in his isolation in the Batcave. Without Alfred, Batman starts to fall apart. Morgan Freeman is back as Lucius Fox, and he is delightful as always. And, of course, Joseph Gordon Levitt is good as Officer (later Detective) Blake. He’s a bit of a “Mary Sue,” but he’s engaging and believable, and every bit as unrelenting as Batman. Christopher Judge (Stargate: SG1) has a nice cameo as one of Bane’s goons, and Matthew Modine plays a cowardly police officer who has a shot at redemption later.

Anne Hathaway’s Catwoman (although she is never referred to as such, nor, alas, is she shown to own a cat) is nine lives better than Halle Berry’s litter box-fodder portrayal. Hathaway is naturally catty, and moves with just the right kind of indignant grace. But she lacks the quirky charm that won Michelle Pfeiffer acclaim in Batman Returns. She goes through the motions well, and is certainly not a bad Catwoman, but she’s not particularly memorable, either. Nobody leaving the theater afterward was talking about Catwoman; they were talking about Bane. 

Tom Hardy’s Bane is surprisingly effective. Although he lacks the bizarre charisma of Heath Ledger’s Joker and the noble badassery of Liam Neeson’s Ra’s Al Ghul, he brings his own brand of menace to the story. Perhaps the most impressive aspect of his performance is that he is never unmasked, save for a pre-injury flashback. Conveying expression with one’s eyes and muscles alone is typically not Oscar material, but Hardy puts forth a good effort. Of note is the 5’9”, 200 pounds soaking wet Hardy actually appearing to tower over other characters in the film. His physical presence is quite imposing thanks to the combination of serious bodybuilding and movie magic, and his first encounter is like Ivan Drago from Rocky IV (the worst film in the franchise, in my opinion) mercilessly pummeling Apollo Creed to death. Perhaps Bane’s only flaw, however, is his voice. Yes, his voice would naturally be muffled through his cumbersome mask, but he sounds absolutely ridiculous. He sounds a bit too British genteel, as though he should be wearing a top hat and monocle instead of a trench coat and combat boots. Indeed, listening to his very odd voice is reminiscent of the scene in Batman Forever wherein Jim Carrey’s Riddler adopts the voice and mannerisms of a blustery Brit: “Batman? Batman, you say? Coming for you?! Ho-ho-ho, HARUMPH!! HARRRRUMPH!!” Perhaps Bane’s voice was specifically designed to distract viewers from Bale’s raspy muttering.

*SPOILER*

The single biggest “Oh, crap!” moment in the movie comes when Batman learns that despite Bane’s dangerous agenda and leadership skills, he is not the mastermind; he is the muscle.

*END SPOILER*

Of course, comparisons will naturally be made to May’s The Avengers, which was the biggest comic book blockbuster of all time. Some may say the two films are impossible to compare, but it can be done objectively.

Both films were years in the making, with earlier installments building toward a specific outcome. But, while The Dark Knight Rises was the end of the tale, The Avengers marks the beginning of a much bigger story (and considering how big The Avengers was, the next few films should prove very interesting). 

Both films are absolutely excellent. Both were made with a clear love of characters and source material. Both are exhilarating, with well-placed humor, great plot twists and dynamic performances. Both prompted lively discussion afterward. But The Avengers has a certain magic about it that The Dark Knight Rises can’t match. The Avengers is a fun-filled, superheroic romp from start to finish that never stops to catch its breath. The Dark Knight Rises is slower, more introspective, and doesn’t hit on the same emotional chords. When Bruce escapes from the pit, it’s awesome, but it doesn’t have the same “HECK YEAH!!” appeal as Iron Man informing Loki, “His name is Phil” before blasting the crap out of him. Batman flying off with the bomb isn’t as heartrending a self-sacrifice moment as Iron Man flying off with the bomb because Batman has an obvious way out (he’s Batman!). Bane getting shot with a f***ing ROCKET is awesome, but not as awesome as Hulk swinging Loki’s carcass around like a ragdoll. 

In closing, I must compare the two movies with yet another Batman Forever reference (for those who don’t know, it’s still my favorite Batman film). During a jewel heist, the Riddler holds up a diamond for inspection. “Here’s a good one,” he says, and he’s quite right. The diamond is flawless, an A+, to be sure. Then Two-Face shoves a diamond the size of a baseball in his face and declares, “No, no, no! There is a good one.” The Dark Knight Rises is a perfect conclusion to its series, and very nearly a perfect film altogether. But The Avengers is on a higher plane altogether. It’s bigger, it’s bolder and it’s more accessible to general audiences. And, for die-hard fans, it has more Easter eggs than the Cadbury factory.

My score: * * * * *