Erik Killmonger, Kylo Ren, and the Rise of the Sympathetic Villain

So, I saw Black Panther against last weekend and I (unsurprisingly) continued to love it. This time around, I was able to better appreciate Micheal B. Jordan as big bad Erik Killmonger, who is easily the strongest character in the film. It's an incredible performance that stands head and shoulders above the rest of the cast, with Jordan making Killmonger both terrifying and utterly tragic. 

It reminded me a lot of Adam Driver's Kylo Ren, a conflicted warrior of the dark side who feels as though he could fall into redemption any minute, and got me thinking about the current state of villains in blockbuster films. Think about the most popular villains of the last few years. Loki. Baron Zemo from Civil War. Kylo Ren. Killmonger. The Vulture from Spider-Man: Homecoming. What do they all have in common, besides the fact that they're all owned by Disney? They're all, to a degree, characters with clear motives and understandable worldviews. 

Think about it. Loki is the angry adopted child of the Norse gods, Zemo wanted vengeance for the death of his children, Kylo is driven by a mixture of neglect, uncertainty, and betrayal, the Vulture wanted to provide for his family in the face of bigshot superheroes who don't care about the little people ruining everything, and Killmonger (rightfully) wants Wakanda to fight for the oppressed, no matter who gets hurt in the crossfire. Now, tell me what these guy want (if you can remember them)?

Something about a red beam and destroying the worlds, I think? 

How about this guy? 

Bugs were involved, I can tell you that. 

Or this guy? 

He looks pretty stylish, I'll give him that.

The point is that no one particularly cares about these generic, gray moustache-twirling bad guys with unclear motives and personalities. These characters have dominated the blockbuster scene to the point where villains like Killmonger and Vulture are seen as incredible breaths of fresh air, making it so satisfying to see that audiences have finally started to reject them in favor of better characters. Admit it: you were satisfied to see Kylo cut Snoke in half and step up as leader of the First Order. I know I was, because blockbusters are really only as good as the conflict that drives them. And you know who drives conflicts?

That's right, the villains. So when a villain is a generic gray dude with armor or scars who wants to shoot a big beam into the sky so his generic CGI horde can prevail in taking over the planet/universe/whatever, it's remarkably hard to care what's happening. But when the villain is a fleshed-out and interesting antagonist, playing off the hero and making the audience regard the grain of truth in their reasoning, the film becomes not just entertaining, but thematically satisfying. 

So please, studios, save some money on CGI and just encourage better villains with great performances behind them. I guarantee that you'll win audiences over more with a Killmonger or Loki than you will with whoever this chick was. 

The Cautious Optimism Behind "Solo"

I've got weird expectations heading into Solo. When it was first announced, I was largely indifferent, figuring, "Hey, it could be fun, but there's a lot of other stories I'd like to see." Then they announced that Phil Lord and Chris Miller, the geniuses behind 21 Jump Street and The Lego Movie, would be writing and directing, which certainly made me take attention. After all, everything these guys touched turned out to be great, so maybe this will be something after all. And then, just to make sure I was absolutely on-board, they cast Donald Glover as Lando. 

Donald Glover. As in Troy from Community. As in Childish Gambino. As in the showrunner and lead of Atlanta, my favorite show of 2016. How could they possibly mess up after such a perfect move? 

Ah. That's right, you can fire the directors for making the movie "too comedic". This was pretty much when everyone soured on Solo, with some pointing out the similarities between this and Marvel's feud with Edgar Wright over Ant-Man that led to his departure from the project. Ron Howard stepped in to reshoot the film, which suggested a wild change in the film's tone, with Disney and Lucasfilm reassuring us that everything was fine. No problems here, no sir. 

*Ron Howard voice* There were problems. 

When this bit of news broke, I was pretty much done with the film, to the point where I suspected that I might not even see it in theaters. At best, I thought it would turn out to be a bit of "Hey, remember this Star Wars thing you love? Isn't nostalgia fun?" like Rogue One turned out to be. Just a bit of fun, entirely disposable fluff, much like Ant-Man. At worst, I expected an uneven mess that wouldn't even make it's release date and forever sully the good name of Donald Glover. 

But then they announced that a trailer for a trailer (which is a trend I hate with every fiber of my soul) would be showing during the Super Bowl. So, I watched the Super Bowl with interest. Granted, I only ever really watch the Super Bowl for the commercials in the first place, but now I was on the look-out for something. The teaser played...and it looked okay, but wasn't quite enough to sell me. So I got excited for the trailer the next day. 

I watched the trailer and, surprisingly, I really enjoyed it. It looked like a silly little romp with a surprising color palette, so maybe Disney's fears were unfounded. In the space of two days, I had very much changed my tune on Solo. After all, it's a good cast with an good director, why should I be so hesitant?

But that's the problem. Try as I might, I can't quite seem to muster excitement beyond hoping that it will be good. Because despite the really good trailer, I can't escape the fact this is a film that forced two brilliant directors off in favor of more studio control, a film that was reshot almost entirely in the space of a few months, and a film that's own distributor is worried about. As a fan of The Last Jedi, I'm worried it will be a step backwards into "hey, remember this?" after Rian Johnson worked to free the series from the shackles of the past. Most of all, I'm worried that turn the audience off of the franchise and lead to Lucasfilm being hesitant to make more films like it. 

But, hey, maybe I'm wrong and I'll really like it. Maybe it will be a smash-hit success, which I want it to be because a) rooting for something to fail is dumb and b) maybe the success will convince Lucasfilm to wise up and give the people what they want. That's right: Lando: A Star Wars Story, written and directed by Donald Glover. 

Just two hours of this please.

Marvel's "Fresh Start": Loving a Company that Can't Learn

If you haven't guessed from my numerous posts before this, I'm a pretty big Marvel fan. Love the comics, love the movies, all that jazz. Reading old Marvel books is what got me into being a writer. So I'm saying this entirely from a position of admiration and affection: Marvel, why can't you get your shit together? 

I'm not even referring to the comics, which are fine, with some very good ones sprinkled in. I'm talking about the dumpster fire that was Marvel's PR last year. For those unfamiliar, let me run through some of the most notable controversies: 

• In March, Axel Alonso (Marvel's Editor-In-Chief) was recorded saying that promoting artists didn't really matter because their names (beyond a few heavy-hitters) wouldn't really sell as well as certain writers would. On the same day, an interview in which Sales SVP David Gabriel bashed Marvel's diversity, stating that he had seen poor sales for books starring LGBT characters, people of color, and women and that it was angering fans who "didn't want real diversity". (This one will be important a bit later.) 
• In May, Marvel defended the controversial Secret Empire event, in which Steve Rogers was revealed to have been a secret HYDRA agent all along, by urging fans to wait until the conclusion to get real answers and that Cap's "heart and soul" will be what saves the day. 
• In June, they announced the Legacy relaunch, which would greatly shake up the entire slate and return comics to their original numbering. Beyond a few changes in creative teams, everything was largely identical to what it was before. 
• In September, Marvel spoiled the ending of Secret Empire by releasing an image of the classic Captain America beating up the Hydra-controlled Cap. The outrage was clearly felt, with defenders and skeptics alike pointing out that Marvel had literally said that the evil Cap (or Stevil, as he had been named by fans) would not turn out to be a doppleganger. They would also spoil the ending of Marvel Legacy #1 by revealing that the Marvel character returned from the dead was Wolverine aka Logan, simply to boost sales. 
• October might've been the company's worst month, with the Las Vegas shooting forcing them to cancel their planned panel for The Punisher Netflix series at New York Comic Con, with rumors circulating they would've surprise-released the series at the end of the panel. While this was certainly the right move, they shot themselves in the foot (heh) by also announcing a partnership with the weapons company Northrop-Grumman. After massive backlash to this incredibly boneheaded decision, Marvel unceremoniously cancelled the event in a tweet sent in the early morning. 
• In November, Marvel tried to fix the PR damage of the Northrop Grunman deal (plus the loss of Marvel heavy-hitter Brian Micheal Bendis) by replacing Alonso with CB Cebulski, a former writer turned editor famous for bringing in a variety of fresh new talent. Literally eleven days later, a story came out, accusing Cebulski of defrauding Marvel by pretending to be Japanese writer Akira Yoshida who worked for the company from 2003 to 2005. Cebulski confirmed the stories and issued an apology, but was not fired or punished in a meaningful fashion. With the chaos of that filling the headlines, Marvel was able to get away with hiring Ron Richards, an Image staffer, as VP of New Media. Sexual harassment claims surfaced against Richards, who has yet to respond to the allegations, with the story flying under the radar in comparison to the Cebulski controversy. 
• In December, Marvel limped out of 2017 by first pissing off Thanos creator Jim Starlin so much that he straight-up left Marvel in the middle of writing a new Thanos book and specifically singled out the comics division of the company as the reason why. "Marvel Studios [the cinematic division has treated me very well," he would write in a Facebook post. "Them I like." With them firestorm behind them, they collapsed at the finish line, using the last of their strength to cancel a massive chunk of the aforementioned "diversity" books. (Cancellations included queer latina-led America, black-led Luke Cage, and female-led Hawkeye.) Numerous fans threatened to boycott, which Marvel responded to with an apology and a promise to publish great new books. Just kidding, they kept their heads down and let editor Jordan D. White accuse the fans of being "knee-jerk" with no indication that his views weren't those of the rest of the company.

What's infuriating about all of this was Marvel's simple refusal to own up to the idea that any of this was bad. Alonso was allowed to insult hardworking artists and loyal readers, Cebulski was allowed to get away with lying so he could take work from writers, and Secret Empire was allowed to insult the reader's intelligence after a year of being lied to. Hell, the company didn't even admit that doing PR for a weapons company literal days after the deadliest mass shooting in American history was a mistake. It is absolutely infuriating, and it's helped because they show no signs of stopping. 

To give context to the frustration, let's compare this with DC, Marvel's competitor. DC spent five years pushing the New 52, which erased almost 30 years of continuity in favor of a clean slate. Said clean slate was poorly received, with only a handful of titles not being cancelled. So what did DC do? They owned up to it. They admitted the New 52 didn't work, and it was time to for a restart, which led to DC Rebirth, an initiative that slowly returned the status quo (even if it ignited new controversy with a tease of being a Watchmen sequel.) 

Sure, DC never went as far as to say they messed up, but they did conclude that the New 52 hadn't worked and made moves to fix it with fans. Marvel, who were clearly trying to ape them with Legacy and the newly-announced "Fresh Start" initiative, would never contemplate a move like that, judging by how the video announcement for "Fresh Start" has everyone involved going out of their way to avoid saying what exactly they're starting fresh from.

And all this stupidity is overshadowing great stuff, too. Legacy set up great ideas and gave me some of my favorite works of last year and "Fresh Start" had the announcement of both a new Venom book (likely to tie into the upcoming film) and that Jason Aaron would be taking over Avengers with Ed McGuiness. That last news is awesome, because that's a great creative team with an even better line-up. But because Marvel can't stop hitting themselves, the good news gets buried. 

I am in full support of any team with Ghost Rider on it. 

Given that Marvel has already drawn controversy with Cable artist Jon Malin going on a bizarre tirade in which he compares the X-Men to Nazi Germany-era Jews and "SJWs" to Nazis, I can't help but feel 2018 won't be the fresh start they desire. But hey, they've come back from literal bankruptcy before, so maybe I'll be wrong. 

Review: "Dark Knights Rising: The Wild Hunt" Is An Uneven Embrace of Comics's Insanity

Dark Knights Rising: Wild Hunt is many things. It's the first Metal tie-in to not focus on the origin on one of the evil Batmen. It's the return of comics legend (and definitive Batman writer) Grant Morrison, who joins series writer Scott Snyder alongside Flash writer Joshua Williamson and Detective Comics writer James Tynion IV. It's the most I've enjoyed any of these tie-ins. But most importantly, it's part of Metal's ongoing love affair with all the complicated and insane aspects of the DC multiverse. It honestly reminded me most of Mad Max: Fury Road, as an escalating;y bonkers chase scene stretched over an entire issue. 

Wild Hunt is focused primarily on the trio of the Flash, Cyborg, and Raven as their ship is pursued across the multiverse by the much larger dreadnought of the Dark Knights, who intend to stop them from reaching the Hall of Heroes and stopping the slow corruption of the multiverse. Meanwhile, on Challengers Island, Detective Chimp (no, really) reflects on his origins as he works with the world's greatest minds to try and keep the multiverse portal open. It all builds to a gut-punch of an ending and one of the most surprising comic final pages I've read in years. (And given that this event also gave us the reveal that Batman was working with Neil Gaiman's Dream in it's first issue, that really says something.)

Unlike Mad Max, Wild Hunt struggles from the inconsistency of multiple writers. Morrison's surrealism and ambition, Snyder's grimness, Williamson's quippiness, and Tynion's skill with team dynamics are all great on their own, but it fully clicks here, with the same applying to the art teams of Ivan Reis, Doug Mahnke, and Howard Porter, whose styles are each so distinctive that it sticks out when they try to mix. (Interestingly, all three artists are frequent collaborators of Morrison, with his and Porter's 5-year tenure on JLA being one of the greatest comic runs of all time.)  

While it doesn't come together all the time, it's still incredibly entertaining, with the sheer scope and intensity of the story overcoming any massive weaknesses. At it's best moments, it (and the entire Metal event in general) reminds me of Final Crisis, Morrison's final event before the end of his contract with DC. All the pieces are there: hopeless situation that threatens the multiverse, leaving a ragtag group of heroes to save the day. It should be so cliched, but it throws so much at you that you're on board pretty much from the get-go. I mean, it gives real pathos to Detective Chimp. What's not to love?

Three Billboards And the Issue of "Redemption"

So I saw Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri and I liked it quite a bit. If the buzz building to the Oscars comes true, it will be the latest in a line of fairly strong Best Picture winners (though it's not my favorite of the batch, which is an honor that definitely goes to Shape of Water). So, naturally, there's already been a backlash against the film by general audiences, particularly surrounding it's themes and it's antagonist of sorts, Officer Jason Dixon. (If I don't know any better, I'd suspect that being seen as a frontrunner directly poisons audience expectations, given that this also happened to La La Land and The Revenant, which were widely seen as frontrunners.) 

While I certainly see why some people dislike it, I definitely disagree with the primary form of criticism, which tends to go along the line of, "This film redeems a racist, violent thug character with no real comeuppance." To avoid spoiling too much until the next paragraph, that's all I'll say for now. To avoid spoilers, please stop here. Read my other posts, which are also very good. If you've seen Three Billboards or don't care, please continue. 

Still here? Sick. Anyway, Jason Dixon is established as violent, short-tempered and somewhat bigoted, with many accusing him of torturing a black prisoner while the man was in custody. Over the course of the film, we get more of an explanation for Dixon's behavior and he begins to come to terms with his own reputation. As part of the film's recurring theme of redemption, Dixon strives to be a better man and a better cop by the end of the film, which sort of sums up the backlash in a longer paragraph. The problem with said backlash is that Dixon doesn't find the redemption he seeks, and in fact regresses to his old ways in the film's final moments. 

Around the film's midpoint, Dixon gets a heartfelt speech from Willoughby, which has him resolve to be better as he realizes how many people he's hurt. But Dixon spends the rest of the film assuming one good deed will undo his bad, which is proven to be untrue. The man he suspects of being the culprit of the crime that kicked off the film's plot isn't guilty, and Jason is immediately confronted with the idea that redemption is harder than it looks. So what does he do? Now, if he was actually a better man, he'd keep it and go back to being a cop, but Dixon instead quits the police force for good and convinces the film's protagonist to help him hunt down and kill Dixon's suspect, who is definitely guilty of something. Does that sound like something a "good cop" would do? 

Not only does Dixon not really change his ways, no one really forgives him either. The film's few black characters continue to treat him with skepticism, the man he directly hospitalized rebuffs his attempts to apologize, and the main character herself only softens because he's helping her personally. Three Billboards is a film about forgiveness and letting go of anger, but by the end, poor Dixon never really manages to achieve either, for himself or from others.  

Three Billboards isn't a perfect film, by any means. It's a bit too long, sometimes overly crass, and it peaks at the midpoint with a spectacular character moment. But do I think the film deserves complaints because a villain (of sorts) tries to change himself and arguably fails? Not really. I just think it's a case of people being angry that a character that is traditionally unsympathetic in most forms of media gets deconstructed in a way that reminds you, "Hey, everyone in this film is still a human being." 

Review: "Cloverfield Paradox" An Interesting, But Disappointing, Addition to Anthology Series

So, there's been a lot of buzz about Cloverfield Paradox's marketing strategy. Make the movie in secret, then show an ad for it during the Super Bowl, then release it right after. It's becoming the norm for this franchise to go as secretive as possible, with Cloverfield having an incredible viral marketing campaign while 10 Cloverfield Lane was announced two months before release. It's daring and oftentimes brilliant in the age of trailers for trailers that this franchise is choosing to go guerilla with it, emerging from the shadows only when absolutely necessary. 

Of course, all the cool tricks in the world won't contribute to much if the film itself isn't very good, and that's where Cloverfield Paradox really struggles. 

Without spoiling too much, Paradox focuses on the crew of the Cloverfield Station, who are testing the Shepard particle accelerator aboard the ship in hopes of ending an energy crisis that has left the planet on the brink. After a year and a half of testing, it apparently works, but it becomes apparent very quickly that something is very wrong, both on the ship and back on Earth. 

The film's major problem is that it feels both overstuffed and underwritten. It's plot is largely paint-by-numbers "doomed space expedition" fare, specifically reminding me of a mash-up of Interstellar and Event Horizon, which would be fine were it not for how largely paper-thin the characters are. The cast themselves are great, with particular stand-outs in the form of Chris O'Dowd and Gugu Mbatha-Raw, but beyond Raw's Hamilton (who functions as the film's protagonist), none of them ever really develop beyond archetypes, making it hard to care for their struggles. The dialogue doesn't help, often coming off as clunky or overexpository without ever feeling real. 

Perhaps the film's entire issue is a lack of a real identity. The direction, dialogue, and plot all feel like something I've seen a million times before, with very little in the way of surprises outside of the ways in which the ship messes with the crew (with a scene involving a severed arm in particular standing out) and the film's spectacular final scene, which is shocking and entertaining in a way that I wish the rest of the film had been. It all just clips along at a fine pace up until the credits rolled, at which point I said, "Well that was ok." and clicked out. 

In an era where there's simply too much content to devour, perhaps the worst reaction of all is a shrug. Is it terrible? No, but is it the gamechanger Netflix sorely needs to prove themselves as a realistic option for blockbusters? Sadly, no. Does this mean they should stop, or that the Cloverfield franchise is dead? Of course not, especially given that Paradox sets up the idea of Overlord, the forth installment that is rumored to come out later this year. I just wish that this film had tried a little harder to be something new. 

How "The Punisher" Flubbed the Gun Control Debate

So, The Punisher came out on Netflix last year, and while it was very good, there was one aspect of it that I found...rather clumsy. That clumsy part was it's handling of social issues, particularly it's take on gun control. As a way of padding out it's 13-episode season, Punisher spent several episodes discussing the impact of violence on the human condition, the role of veterans in today's society, and,  most importantly, the aforementioned gun control. While the first two were handled incredibly well, gun control is an issue that's handled tenderly and ultimately dropped unsatisfyingly. The show's take on the issue struggled simply because it never took a clear position and failed to really explain why either side even really has a point. 

The show takes on gun control at the direct midpoint of the series, with several characters (including the Punisher and his ally Karen Page) taking a pro-gun stance while literally just one character (a Senator of New York) is pro-gun control. The immediate problem is the pro-gun side consists of a vigilante (Frank) , a close friend of multiple vigilantes (Karen), a domestic terrorist (arc villain Lewis Wilson), and a cowardly liar pretending to be a veteran, while the senator is portrayed as a smooth-talking wuss who ultimately begs for his life when it comes down to it. The show chooses to portray both sides as flawed with no real upsides, reminding me a lot of South Park's tendency to mock both sides of a real debate without ever taking a side. 

Remember when they made fun of Al Gore for spreading climate change awareness? 

While a more moderate stance on the issue is fine, the problem is the show seemed unwilling to admit that this was it's stance. Rather than ever have any characters admit that they may be wrong, the show simply drops the subplot once Lewis is dealt with. They even have a ripe opportunity to resolve things, with Frank taking a bullet to save the Senator from Lewis, but ultimately backs off. Frank never admits that maybe assault rifles shouldn't end up in civilian hands, nor does the senator admit that maybe guns could save lives. And ultimately, that's dangerous and somewhat lazy. 

It's dangerous because in a world of mass shooters who frequently take inspiration from characters like Frank Castle (to the point where the show's release was delayed due to a mass shooting in Las Vegas while the Virginia Tech shooter's dorm was covered in Punisher art), a show about him really could've addressed the character's roots as a gun-toting vigilante and role in a gun-obsessed society in a deeply meaningful fashion. But instead, it simply blinks when given the opportunity and moves on rather than trying to take a side. And in many ways, saying both sides are dumb is more dangerous than saying nothing at all.