film criticism by maryann johanson | celebrating 25 years: 1997–2022
The superhero movie we need, and also the one we karmically deserve. A riot of hilariously zippy animation that gleefully shreds the clichés of the genre while also lovingly embracing its self-referential geek experience.
Masterful. I had so much fun with this, often laughing out loud in relief when the tension of a breathless action scene finally broke. So why am I feeling a bit meh about it?
The cinematic equivalent of Trump and Brexit as awfulness brought upon ourselves. Incoherent and cheap-looking. There are no heroes, and everything is broken.
Like a movie from the world of Watchmen: cold, cruel, borderline incoherent in its testosterone-fueled rage, misogynist, paternalistic… fascist, even.
Guy Ritchie’s spy-themed GQ fashion shoot. Pure popcorn nonsense, sleek and chic and vaguely funny, but instantly forgettable.
Towers with ambition, swelled by sweeping philosophies about power and presence on scales both planetary and personal, beautifully balanced by a wellspring of wry tragedy.
Why American conservatives love Superman (apparently they don’t realize he’s an illegal immigrant); the Henry Cavill workout; and more.
Brought to you by the Madrid Film Tax Credit Production Office and the Society for the Promotion of Henry Cavill as the Next Big Thing!
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What my followers on Facebook, Twitter, and Google+ saw today…
