Showing posts with label Mark Ruffalo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mark Ruffalo. Show all posts

Sunday, 9 August 2026

Spider-Man: Brand New Day



Tom Holland's web-slinger, by now the surest bet in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, returns with Spider-Man: Brand New Day, an atypically well-crafted superhero film that dispenses with the flat virtual backlots and insincere humour that has come to define these later, less-successful phases. Director Destin Daniel Cretton, whose previous Marvel feature Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings seems to have been condemned to the continuity black hole that swirls at the centre of the Disney series, takes the reigns from Jon Watts, who steered Sony's previous three instalments. Although Watts started strong with Spider-Man: Homecoming, his follow-up episodes stumbled largely thanks to intractable demands placed upon this property. Spider-Man's newcomer position within a wider, exploding brand tracked into an insistence that the queasy militarisation of Iron Man was mapped onto the otherwise working class Peter Parker. The chopped-up, off-putting simulacrum of Covid-era filmmaking hasn't helped either.  

Despite lingering Starkism, Cretton's take is refreshingly distinct from its immediate predecessors. The director's most obvious contribution then is that this Spider-Man sequel plays like an event unto itself rather than a prolonged reassessment of past glories or a carefully rationed prologue for the next team-up. Quite the feat considering the amount of guest players that appear in Sony's tentpole: Jon Bernthal's lunk-headed Punisher intrudes, making a lot more sense when paired with Holland's bright and assured Spider-Man (Castle, driving around in an armoured van and blasting bazookas is surely a nod to a similar appearance in the 90s Spider-Man: The Animated Series); Mark Ruffalo's increasingly savage Hulk represents a worst-case scenario for Peter's mutating superpowers; while Sadie Sink, as an emissary of The X-Men, is utilised first as a terrifying new enemy, later as an unlikely confidant. If anything then, this new Holland episode appears to have inherited the care, not to mention the billion dollar machinery, that the Japanese electronics firm marshalled during their tenure with Daniel Craig's shaken but not spared take on James Bond. 

Naturally, we're not skipping from continent to continent like 007, but there's a level-headed confidence in how the clashing tonal bandwidth of computer-assisted vehicular pile-ups and more personal, human drama are navigated that speaks to a piece designed for a slightly more discerning audience than the usual Marvel staging. Although credited to series regulars (and future Avengers: Doomsday scribes) Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers, stars Holland and Zendaya have eagerly shared that this draft was treated to a transformative, and uncredited, rewrite by director Cretton as well as Challengers and Queer screenwriter Justin Kuritzkes. Spider-Man: Brand New Day, as released, then not only gives Zendaya's workforce ready MJ more to play with than simple scowling, it also raises Marissa Tomei's sadly departed Aunt May to new heights of sainted, maternal radiance. Her flickering presence is presented throughout the film as the core, positive memory of a deeply depressed superhero. So powerful is this recollection though that it is able to be transmitted to others; to allow them to step into Peter's shoes and know what it is to be truly adored by a loving mother. 

Tuesday, 12 March 2024

Poor Things



Emma Stone and her enormous, bulging eyes play Bella Baxter, the guileless product of a deranged scientific experiment that intertwines the wreckage of a suicidal adult with an infant brain completely untouched by any previous experience. Naturally, the same childlike affect that sees Bella relentlessly hoovering up any and all information also attracts slathering, Victorian bachelors in their droves; each man petitioning to ensnare this innocent but unusually liberated woman. Bella sees and interprets all: a concept reflected in Robbie Ryan's cinematography, whose perspectives range from monochromatic and partially obscured to Technicolor and blaring when Bella is at the height of her powers. Directed by Yorgos Lanthimos and written for the screen by Tony McNamara (based on the book of the same name by Scottish author Alasdair Gray), Poor Things very obviously riffs on Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, with Willem Dafoe's scarred vivisectionist standing in for the Swiss body snatcher. Instead of a sagging but sapient failure scorned by all though, Bella is raven-haired and luminous; courted again and again by a succession of weeping cads who all long to nail her down to their own living quarters. In this sense there's more than a little of Charles Dickens' Estella, the emotionally cool heartbreaker from Great Expectations, to Bella. Like Miss Havisham's icy ward, Bella expresses an avowedly independent form of femininity. Similarly, the emotional terror of being human is decoded with an exacting logic that does not waste a great deal of time consoling with the heartbroken men she leaves in her wake. Mark Ruffalo's Duncan Wedderburn soaks up the lion's share of the damage, slowly transforming from a Terry Thomas-style scoundrel into a figure of shrieking farce. His boastful cocksmanship coming up short when faced with the insatiable appetite of a person locked into a relentless, data-gathering phase.