How many times have we seen a batarang strike the shoulder of a brawny supervillain? How often do these branded shurikens find their way into the unguarded rear of some advancing threat - who barely even acknowledges they've been pinned - before the device beeps then explodes, stunning the creature in question? Cartoon Network's Justice League and Justice League Unlimited were pulling this stunt (equalising the earthbound heroics of the caped crusader when considering the character on a cosmic level) over twenty years ago; delivering the detonations with far more aplomb too, it has to be said. Significantly less animated than your average motion comic, Jeff Wamester's Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths - Part Two grinds through a middle act for this multiverse-spanning saga, offering up excruciatingly static sequences in which characters sit across from each other and broadcast, monotonously. This straight-to-streaming adventure begins with two such conversations curling around each other from opposite ends of the galaxy. In one corner there's an omniscient being experiencing a glacial emotional awakening; the other a Golden Age master criminal delivers an extended, forensic monologue to a captive audience. The latter, obviously the stronger of the two, reaches for the insistent rhythms of an Alan Moore subject but the staccato situations used to illustrate these ramblings never rise above perfunctory. The real worry throughout Infinite Earths Part Two though is that these desultory chats are leaps and bounds more engaging than the battles with massing shadow monsters that succeed the chinwags.
Showing posts with label Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths - Part One. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths - Part One. Show all posts
Tuesday, 7 May 2024
Wednesday, 10 January 2024
Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths - Part One
Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths - Part One concludes, after the credits have staggered their way up-screen, with a dedication to George Pérez, the penciller for the 1980s comic book series that this animated feature is based on. The solemnity of the gesture is rather undercut though by the decision to have this particular inscription break up into the same flaking ash that marks the destruction of this film's doomed, two-dimensional heroes. Quite apparently even the briefest of obituaries, for those whose work is being ruthlessly mined, pales in comparison to the sanctity of the cliff-hanger. The dignity usually extended to those who have passed a mere trifle when judged against the maintenance of a mood calculated to pack people back in for Part Two. Other than this worryingly ill-judged addendum, Crisis Part One is everything we've come to expect from these stale, direct-to-video adventures: a neat central concept that is obscured by circuitous writing and a staging so flat and lifeless that no-one can be left in any doubt that the talent that buoyed DC animation through its golden age has long since migrated elsewhere. As if to underline this point, Part One spends a significant amount of its time centred around The Flash's dealings with Amazo, the power-leeching adversary who previously dismantled television's Justice League in 2003's Tabula Rasa two-parter. The strange elegance of an android shaped like an awards statuette, who fought his opponents by physically reproducing their own powers, is replicated here as a busy-looking robot full of accessory chambers who simply holds out his hand, numbing his already static enemies into a state of sleepy repose.
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