Avengers: Age of Ultron

Like last summer's The Amazing Spider-Man 2, Joss Whedon's Avengers: Age of Ultron is an accurate big-screen simulation of randomly dipping into Marvel's pre-Image output. Although a complete villain originates and disintegrates over the course of the film, you're left with an overwhelming sense that you've just had a brief insight into a larger, never-ending epic. Age of Ultron is reminiscent of an incomplete run fished out of a ballast bin or an 80-page Summer Special jammed with luridly coloured crossovers.

The first Avengers was notable for its smoothness. Whedon juggled umpteen leads, a get-the-gang-together plot, and a few decent car crashes with such ease that it was actually jarring. Whedon was too efficient, nothing stuck in your throat. Avengers was entertaining with well-structured character interactions but it didn't feel particularly personal. It was more like billion dollar problem solving. Momentarily exciting then quickly forgotten, like the red plastic lump Robert Duvall obliterates in THX 1138. In comparison, Avengers 2 is messy and overloaded. A rampaging mutant that offers zero resolution.

This cinema release (home video hype suggests an utterly superfluous hour is to be added for the BD/DVD release) is so laser focused on hitting beats that there's nothing else. The story's all in place but the communication is rarely verbal, it's geography or image or sometimes even a sound. The film is also littered with sequel embeds. Spotted around the action are elliptical, slashed to the bone interludes that promises further, catastrophic product. As far as the blockbuster sphere goes, this is world-building straight out of David Yates' Harry Potter playbook. Make it vague, keep them wanting more.

Doom is treated like a destination or a feeling, a word on the tip of your tongue. You can't quite get it out. A hypnotised Tony Stark sees Hulk pinned to an asteroid with barbed, alien spears. Thor takes a dip in a holy well and dreams of Ragnarok. Avengers 2 is the tipping point, permanence creeping in around the edges, putting the team off their stride for a two-part finale written and directed by someone else. Whedon's sequel is breathless, a smarmy set-piece generator that doesn't stop building momentum. The writer / director's parting gift to the Marvel Universe is an action collage that has learnt a valuable lesson from apex franchise entry Fast & Furious 6. Stay in your seats. There's a great big bruiser on the way.

Marvel's The Avengers

Joss Whedon brings his ensemble cast skills to bear on The Avengers, a billion dollar victory lap for the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Whedon finds plausible perspectives for each of his heroes as they find themselves unwittingly enrolled into the financially lucrative collective. Dr Banner wants to stay in the lab, Iron Man and Captain America rub each other up the wrong way, a bemused Thor acts like he's working with a gang of tall monkeys. Although no individual hero (or constituent franchise element, to be more exact) gets special treatment, Whedon puts work in elevating Scarlett Johansson's Black Widow from the haircut we saw in Iron Man 2 to an indefatigable linchpin. 

Johansson gets the real hero moments - shaking herself out of Hulk-induced shock to go punch some memories into her amnesiac friend or impressing the living embodiment of the Greatest Generation with her suicidal enthusiasm. While the guys call and play a cosmic game of gridiron, it's notably Widow who zeroes in on the source of the threat and sets to trashing it. Come the finale - Thor's bad-egg brother Loki summons an anonymous intergalactic army to level New York - Whedon uses action to express character beats, demonstrating how the team works instead of just telling us. It's all faintly reminiscent of the Nuke in Hell's Kitchen interlude from Frank Miller and David Mazzucchelli's Daredevil: Born Again; a page full of grimy panels blown up into a chromed, forty-minute set-piece. Cap shouts out the strategies, his team dutifully obey. It's Hulk who steals the show though, moving with the same soaring, anvil like grace as he did in Ang Lee's gem. Hulk is Mark Ruffalo scaled up into a ferocious hybrid of Lou Ferrigno and a Sal Buscema drawing; his gleeful lack of restraint easily the film's giddiest thrill.

Iron Man Three

I want to see Iron Man Three again, which is more than can be said for every Marvel universe film apart from Captain America: The First Avenger. Phase 2 of Marvel's attempt to monopolise Summer drafts in Shane Black to work some wisecracking magic. Although Iron Man Three feels truncated and lacks the pure fizz of vintage Black, the co-writer/director puts a stamp on the film that borders on personal. Tony Stark's aimless basement dwelling and endless suit tinkering apparently comes from Black's own post-The Long Kiss Goodnight experiences. After Renny Harlin's film tanked, Black stopped writing and experimented with redundancy.

In Iron Man Three, Stark has become a hermit struggling to contextualise his part in Avengers Assemble. His loss of control over that situation has left him feeling small and prone to panic attacks. Away from the blockbuster bluster, there's a sub-film here about the sapping quality of the creative process and an artist's relationship with their work. Stark trashes his legacy to start again while Black rummages through career slights and missteps, reworking the ideas that got away from him.

Black reconfigures set-pieces from the various drafts of Lethal Weapon 2 - the falling mansion, a dock set conclusion - and amps them up into an anxious abstraction. Somewhere in the CG rubble of Stark's collapsed stilt house is a frightened man trying not to hyperventilate. Black has always used character as a way into action, Iron Man Three is no exception. In both these sequences, Stark has an emotional investment that reads like a weakness, but ends up ensuring his salvation. Pepper Potts juggles damsel duties with an ability to make the most of loaned power sources. Although the final act hinges on Pepper's abduction, she ends up saving Stark far more completely than he ever manages with her - a step-up from Patsy Kensit sleeping with the fishes. Elsewhere Black takes another pass at kid sidekicks, one of the more lamented elements in his redrafted The Last Action Hero, finding mileage in chummy antagonism.

This is the problem with Iron Man Three, it's best enjoyed as an examination of Shane Black's career highs and lows. The film manages to feel both undercooked and padded, while Black's instinct for the unexpected occasionally undermines, rather than enhances, the broad beats of superhero cinema. The film peaks when it's away from the merchandise iconography, especially when Black stresses Starks' back-to-basics approach by arming him with hardware store kibble. This is what happens when a man obsessed with Christmas tries to make a Roger Moore era Bond flick within a strict, corporate framework.

Sketch Saturday: Iron Man

BRING THE PAIN

Shane Black's sequel formula revealed! Obliterate the house on stilts, and dump the main players in the sea. Worked for Lethal Weapon 2. Probably gonna work for Iron Man 3. I wonder how much of a wizard Ben Kingsley's Mandarin will turn out to be? Although we hear him dropping terror rhetoric and doing basic pistol maintenance, we do get a snatch of hero shots on his power rings. With the cosmic peril of The Avengers under the Marvel brand belt, Mandarin doesn't even need to be specifically magical - he could just be wielding hyper-advanced Asgard tech. Fingers crossed for a psychedelic showdown!

Iron Man 2

Iron Man 2 is about product. A considerable amount of the film's jeopardy revolves around dictating trends and poaching brand identity. Drama moves on trade show presentations, screamed at docile audiences. In Iron Man 2, Tony Stark is the brand. He's configured his own hyper-armour and won't let anyone else play. Off-screen he's vapourised terror-cells and halted uprisings, instituting a privatised US centric world peace. Stark's non-profit tax write-off is an enforced global stability, not sanctioned by any recognised international authority. No-one can compete with Stark, he is alone.

Iron Man 2 muddles around with the madness of this super-idea, hitting on a fracturing hero and an army of bitter imitators. Stark's industrialised peace doesn't make these people happy, it makes them envious. In this sequel Stark must battle a Soviet era reflection and a tan-hand impressionist, both figures corrupt recalculations of Stark's good fortune. They amount to minor distractions though, Iron Man 2's biggest enemy is the self-destruction reflex. Stark's power is physically poisoning him. Lacking any appropriate equal to confide in, Stark retreats to microfilm of his father. Sensing an end he goes about driving away those close to him, secretly equipping them to continue his ideal. Iron Man 2 is messy, frequently resembling a tangle of vaguely connected improv duels. Equally though, it is frequently about a bored, stupored superman. Stark's is a personality founded on drives, struggling for a challenge. This world conquered, what next? A post-credits clip hints at a cosmic stage for the eventual Avengers tie-in. There's that product again.

"If you can make God bleed, people will cease to believe in him."

You people like awesome, right? Behold, the latest shill for Jon Favreau's Iron Man 2! Mickey Rourke's Whiplash looks to be operating on a WWF rush-in mentality: hit them while they're posing, make 'em look weak. Didn't count on that whizz-o briefcase though did he? No matter how many F1 rockets you trash, you ain't upstaging that. No sir.

Photon Cannon!

Madhouse's Iron Man; gadget skin hyper flight vs Mecha Captain Harlock, and his missile-men. No readjustment required. This looks like a keeper!

Man of Iron

You may have missed this one: Jon Favreau revealing on Ain't It Cool News that he is collaborating with Genndy Tartakovsky, and his team, on Iron Man 2. Sounds like Tartakovsky et al will be boarding the action sequences, whilst Favreau mixes with the actors. An exciting turn of events I'm sure you'll agree. Imagine! A Tartakovsky originated live action battle sequence that stacks shell-head and War Machine on one side, with Fu Manchu wizard nemesis The Mandarin, and his snaking dragon bodyguard Fing Fang Foom on the other. Delightful.

To get you in the mood, here's Tartakovsky's entrance for General Grievous in the 2003 Cartoon Network series Star Wars: Clone Wars. This pre-Episode III animated debut for Grievous made a promise that George Lucas' live action depiction couldn't hope to deliver on, even with those extra arms. Shame! Shame! Shame!

The Invincible Iron Man

He Lives! He walks! He conquers!

War Machine

Don Cheadle replaces poor Terrence Howard as Jim Rhodes in the upcoming Iron Man sequel. So says The Hollywood Reporter. They sound impressive. Howard apparently ran out of luck by asking for a little more of that blockbusting blockbuster money. Oh well, Howard's poorly advised blockbuster loss is our blockbuster gain: Soderbergh / PT Anderson favourite Cheadle to get his own gun metal Tony Stark hyper-armour, but with added First Amendment powers? Multi-phase missiles, enemy wilting flamethrowers and all round death-rod bullet vomiting? Yes please! P Diddy will do a shit - and no not because of some dreary blingin' gangster rap reference, lord no! Puffy is just all for mainstream equality superheroing. Recently moored in birdbrained Bratner boobery, Ocean's sequels, and Oscar pretender mulch, it's nice to see The Chead' in a position to perhaps have a bit of centre(ish) stage fun and make some cash. Cheadle may even be able to get his Black Panther take on Cleopatra Jones, or Elmore Leonard adaptation Tishomingo Blues back up and running. I can dream. Now, if only they could work out a part for Luis Guzman, and set the whole film in the back of a surveillance van, Iron Man II (Iron Men?) might well be the greatest film of our times.

Yet Another Iron Man Sequel Strand!

Shiver my timbers! Who'd a thunk it? Marvel really worked the sequel angle overtime. In very related news, apparently hit-with-the-ladies Matthew McConaughey is being pursued to play Captain America / Steve Rogers. Hopefully Marvel will attempt to keep Cap's birth tied to World War II. Who wouldn't like to see a brawny blur of red, white and blue fighting alongside a squad of desaturated soldiers attempting a blitzy beach landing? Punch Hitler for me Cap!

Link that makes sense of this incoherent ramble is here.

The Summer Films Came Blowing In...

As promised, here's a snidey little rundown on the Summer Blockbusters. Many have been omitted for issues of being not-interesting.

Iron Man 1

Already seen this, that's how late this piece is. No doubt I'll write something soon. No matter how many films come out this summer, I can't see Iron Man being trumped for sequel baiting. There are allusions to future threats, side-kick team-ups (or even a spin-off), a separate film starring a cameoing Sam Jackson, and an all Marvel imprint battle royale. Phew! Marvel really know how to flirt. After years of being dicked around in development hell they've opted out and are self-financing (with a Paramount distribution deal). Good for them. Who needs Hollywood script hacks diluting half century old characters, because Poppa Studio can't get an angle on them ("I'm worried because it's not exactly like something that made money last week!"). Who knows? Ten years down the line we could have two or three solo Marvel flicks a year, with a huge cross-over event for the summer. We'll be burnt out fans the world over as heroes routinely die and return dressed in black with a sports metal cob-on. Hooray! We might even get a decent Punisher film out of this. Incredible Hulk's going to have to work hard to out theoretical sequel this.

Indiana Jones 4

Crystal Skull! Looks like your classic grey alien head on the poster doesn't it? Cosmic phenomena in an occult series seems a bit iffy. We should be well set-up for this, and Mike Mignola pulls it off routinely (and with considerable panache) in his Hellboy series, but still I am troubled. Either way it looks like Mr Lucas is further plundering 70s mythicism tropes for financial gain. Good for you George! Harrison Ford looks suitably stumpy and cranky, and he tells off Ray Winstone in the trailer! If you've any sense you're wishing pixie hard for an 18 certificate so Big Ray can go Nil By Mouth on the dastardly evil-empire threat - this time portrayed by the Soviets and Cate Blanchett. I have to admit, with this new sci-fi leaning I was hoping for some gone-to-ground Nazis operating out of Argentina with techno-cosmic super weapons. Oh well. Transformers Twat Shia LeBeouf is along for the ride, and looks to be doing a Dad-disappointing impression of a young Marlon Brando. It's pretty cool to see Indy concerned with an explicitly American (or Mesoamerican if you want to get right, or even faked rather recently by European master forger if you want to get current opinion extra-super-right) artifact for a change, the continent is long accused of having no history when it patently has loads, just none involving the current landlords.

Doomsday 1

Neil Marshall's latest appears to be a loving tribute to Mad Max 2 post-apocalyptia and Escape From New York suicide missions. Starring former Lara-Croft-for-trade-shows, and Ali G alumni Rhona Mitra, it would be very easy to get snotty about the Scotland set Doomsday. The trailers have been pretty uninspiring so far, looking more like an 80s Italian schlock flick crossed with Channel 5's Kiwi schedule-filler kids programme: The Tribe. Doomsday sank without a trace at the US box-office in March, a fact that means basically nothing. I like Mr Marshall though, his last film The Descent (when viewed with the UK / Unrated ending) was a tense, claustrophobic nasty. He has repeatedly demonstrated a knack for creeping, choking tension and a propensity to opt for a practical effect wherever possible - reason enough to have faith. How many decent horror films have been stopped dead the second they unveil a shiny CG shitpiece? Loads! Anyway, if this love-letter to John Carpenter turns out a bit wobbly, I'm sure he'll bounce right back. Hopefully with Conan. I'd love another decent Conan film. I deserve it.

Batman 6 (or 7 if you include Adam West's efforts)

In an environment primarily concerned with getting people breathing heavy for sequels, (Batman) The Dark Knight is a bit of an anomaly. The Dark Knight looks quite happy to tear everything apart and leave nothing for the money Jackals. Director Christopher Nolan is well quoted as saying he took part in the sequel mainly because he didn't want anyone else ruining his Joker tease at the end of Begins (from Frank Miller's Batman: Year One, with a touch more sizzle), not to mention the passing of an above-the-title actor and the disturbed city-in-meltdown narrative direction. Gadzooks! You ain't coming out of this one cheery. The Dark Knight looks positively apocalyptic - the latest trailer hinting at multiple main character deaths / mutilations. There's also the tease that the climax will be a three-way broken-man clash. Everybody loses! According to free-roaming Internet plot quotes Christian Bale's Bruce Wayne wants out too - in a move similar to 1993's animated movie (masterpiece) Batman: Mask of the Phantasm, Wayne is beginning to mourn the life he never had, and is pinning his happiness hopes on getting a relationship going with his (currently taken) childhood sweetheart. If Nolan et al can wring even even half Phantasm's heroic misery out, we're on to a fucking winner. The real life death of Heath Ledger, who plays agitator No.1: The Joker (hopefully with not even a hint of backstory implied), hangs heavy over this sequel. It's a role that he quite apparently put everything he had into. The evidence is mounting, the trailer footage and that IMAX six minute flash point to an outstanding portrait of super-psychosis. Mr Ledger's Joker is an uber Droog. Excitable ghouls are already predicting an Oscar. There's word that test-screenings are finding his performance deeply uncomfortable / disturbing. Good. Can't wait!

A few more to follow.