film criticism by maryann johanson | celebrating 25 years: 1997–2022
A miraculous blend of grief and humor. Big, bold, brash, then sneakily meta. I am only starting to get my head around the emotional and creative right-hook of it. A fitting end (for now) to the MCU.
Ten years of Marvel superheroism culminates in a battle for the universe itself. Exhausting, bitterly humorous, and gripped in a stunning finality, it’s almost too much to take in, yet somehow not enough.
Thoroughly charming. Spider-Man’s signature light comedy works surprisingly well even as this story is uniquely steeped in the darker Marvel Cinematic Universe.
Tough, unanswerable human questions frame spectacular, innovative action sequences that are like superhero ballets. This series just keeps getting better.
Marvel’s tiniest hero stars in the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s smallest movie so far, one that loses Paul Rudd’s charm among familiar comic-book action.
Not without problems, but continues the Avengers tradition of big, bold blockbusters that don’t need to toss away thoughtfulness to remain pure popcorn fun.
There isn’t a single woman here who is not defined exclusively as an adjunct to a man, even though there is plenty of room for women not limited by gender. [This post is not behind the paywall.]
Avoids feeling as supremely calculated as it is, perhaps because Robert Downey Jr.’s snark and Robert Duvall’s crusty pragmatism vaccinate against it.
Jon Favreau’s midlife artistic crisis rendered as food porn. Funny, poignant, and wise, though the wish-fulfillment romantic fantasy of it is a tad much.
It’s astonishing and wonderful how much of why the Iron Man movies work is because Robert Downey Jr. is simply so damn much fun to watch onscreen.
