That's no Mufasa

For me, one of the most surprising things about Rogue One: A Star Wars Story - which fills the gap between Episodes III and IV - is that there is so much to spoil, so I will say right off the bat that there will be none of those shenanigans going on here (those who spoil should have their fingers removed and mouths sewn shut).

Another big surprise was how both like and unlike Star Wars it felt.  There's no bombastic John Williams opener, no scrolling text, and barely a Jedi in sight.  This is not a hero's journey from simple every-man ignorant of his destiny, to kick-arse battle-mage saving the galaxy: it's a far more intimate tale about a plucky band of rebels coming together and risking it all for what they know is right.

And, sweet salivating monkey-nuts, does that allow it to bring the feels.

Star Wars has always had its moments in that regard, but because everything's so big, and the characters, while not simply 2-dimensional caricatures (in IV-VII at least), are nevertheless broad (gung-ho rogue; boisterous princess; farm-boy with a dream and a destiny), it's difficult to relate to everything on a personal level.

In Rogue One, the characters feel more grounded; more real.  When they laugh and cry and throw a tantrum, it has significance because the reasons for those reactions are often personal to the characters, rather than funny thing was said so everyone laughs, or bad thing happens so everyone cries.

Even the main bad-guy has nuance. Not that he ever waivers in his convictions, but unlike Tarkin or Palpatine, he does show fear and uncertainty - even desperation - as well as an arrogant wit.

Paradoxically, however, the main issues I have with the film also stem from the characters.  This being a stand-alone with an ensemble cast of newbies to the series, certain things feel rushed or underdeveloped.  Why was that person a prisoner?  How did these two meet?  Why's he such a mess?  Every one has a history that is only hinted at, and it makes me wish that, rather than a single film, the studio had followed through on that long-promised live-action TV show, with this as the template.

Fortunately, the performances are strong enough that, even without their histories being fleshed out, the characters are still well-rounded and interesting; the stand-outs being Alan Tudyk's K-2 - a hilariously sociopathic droid - and Donnie Yen's Chirrut Îmwe - an admittedly clichéd, but still awesome wise old blind badass, with a lighthearted humour I wouldn't have expected from the usually stoic Yen.

If there's one weakness - and I can't believe I'm saying this - it's James Earl Jones.  It's no secret that Darth Vader makes an appearance, but the appearance he makes is...weird.  The voice sounds like an impersonator trying too hard, the suit looks ill-fitting - as if made by a cosplayer in a hurry - and the physical performance is far too fluid, lacking David Prowse's almost robotic steadiness and menace.  Even the CGI face-mapping of certain characters is more convincing.

And he makes a pun!  What in the name of holy smegma is Darth Vader doing making a pun?! 

He does get a little redemption later on, but his main scene is an awkward one that simply does not work.

Of course, this being a Star Wars film, we're not just here for strong characters in a great story, and when it comes to outer space shooty epicness and Storm Troopers being used as cross-eyed cannon-fodder, Rogue One delivers in spades, with a particular moment with a pair of Star Destroyers being up there among the entire saga's all-time greats.  Gareth Edwards may have bored us all gormless with Godzilla, but he did at least prove that he could do grand-scale action when (finally) called upon to do so, and that eye for the epic set-piece is exercised with aplomb against the backdrop of space.

Quick side note: due to issues with Cineworld's projector, I got to see this

in IMAX 2D, which was awesome!

In terms of where the film as a whole stands within the Star Wars ranks, I find that difficult to gauge.  As I said, this is a different type of film to the main saga, and it's fitting that it's titled A Star Wars Story rather than Star Wars episode III.V.  And I also hesitate to rank it along side Empire Strikes Back as others have done, as I don't see this achieving that level of classic status; nor did it enjoy so many iconic, unforgettable moments.  That said, it is certainly on a par with The Force Awakens in terms being both new and feeling like a strong continuation of the saga.  It too outshines the prequels on every level (including its continuity), and would make a fitting start to any Star Wars marathon.

**UPDATE**

I follow a lot of reviewers with diverse opinions, and no film has shown that more than Rogue One; and in a surprising way. Those I'd expect to love it were underwhelmed (one downright devastated), and others I'd expect to be more critical have actually found far more to love.

Because of the way this film is put together, and its story is told, it lives and dies by its characters: those who were put off by the thinness of their backstories, or found them dull or one-note, seem to have been bored by the film as a whole, while others (like me) who could look past the admittedly thin back-stories, and could engage with the characters through the actors' performances (which I personally found universally fantastic (Donnie Yen especially)) loved the film, sometime to a near-Empire-Strikes-Back degree.

The opening act is rushed, every character could have done with more fleshing out (I still feel like this would have made a better mini-series than a film), and that first Darth Vader scene was terrible, but I love the cast, I love the story, the action was phenomenal and the climax had me physically shaking.

Hate to Say I Told You So

It has been well established by now by every review out there - whether positive or negative (and I’ve seen plenty of both) - that Suicide Squad is a mess.  Personally, I had fun with it, but the issues are far too jarring for me to recommend it, or argue with anyone who thought it was utter dog-shit.

The issues are glaring from the off, with the film opening with not one, but two scenes of Amanda Waller explaining her plan to a room of military officials; with the first interspersed with a few quick character bios almost as clumsy and forced as Batman’s Justice League email in BvS.  The trailer featured a line from Rick Flag describing the characters - “Shoots people; burns people; eats people… Crazy person” - that does a far better job of establishing the characters than the opening ten minutes of the actual film.

This clumsiness is prevalent throughout film, with poorly placed and repetitive flashbacks, nonsensical character beats there purely for the sake of plot movement, lazy exposition, terrible pacing...and so on (it’s like a bad Arrow episode).

The list of problems is long and, as I said, already well-established, but I’d like to highlight one in particular.  It’s something I’ve previously mentioned, that I’ve been concerned about since the film was first announced, and a prime example of which we saw in BvS: Who are these people?

Way back in the days when The Dark Knight had just been released, and Marvel’s Avengers experiment was just starting to come together, Warner Bros. announced they would be making a Justice League movie: not kicking off a Justice League cinematic universe - establishing the characters and the world they inhabit - but jumping straight in with Justice League, complete with new versions of all your favourite characters.

It was a terrible idea, and it wasn’t long before internet backlash seemingly made WB see sense, shelve the project and instead allow Christopher Nolan to finish off his Dark Knight trilogy, before bringing him on to oversee a new Superman film that would set the stage for the rest of the Justice League, just as Iron Man did for the Avengers.

Unfortunately, under the hamfisted fan-boy direction of Zack Snyder - that had served him and us surprisingly well on Watchman and 300 - Man of Steel was a dour, tedious, inconsistent, underwhelming mess.

Rather than scratch this off as a false start and hope for better from new Wonder Woman, Flash and Aquaman origins, WB panicked and jumped straight ahead with Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice.

And we all know how that turned out.

One of the few highlights (and possibly the biggest surprise) of BvS was Ben Affleck as Batman - contrary to fan-boy fears the world over (including my own), he proved a good fit for the roles - but that didn’t mean the character himself wasn’t weakly established and poorly represented.  This was a bitter, angry Batman, pushing his violent nature to the extreme, to the point of no longer caring whether he kills.  In one scene, we’re shown a Robin suit, apparently graffitied by the Joker, suggesting Batman’s anger and bitterness stem from the death of the Boy Wonder, as in Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns - an idea confirmed (to some extent) by the presence of the anti-Superman Batsuit from said book - but even in that, when Batman is at his most detached, desperate and willfully violent, he never crosses that line.

Not that you can’t have Batman killing people - if anything, showing the Dark Knight pushed over the edge to a point where he’s perfectly willing to break his one golden rule is an interesting piece of character development - but the issue in BvS is it is not shown.  Yes, we’re given a glimpse of the reason behind his mindset, but how much did that event really change him?  Has this always been a more violent Batman?  Was he closer to Tim Burton’s version, Joel Schumacher’s or Christopher Nolan’s?  Did Robin’s apparent death push him just an inch too far, or completely flip his personality?

The same is true for every character in Suicide Squad.  Amanda Waller calls them ‘The worst of the worst’, but that doesn’t hold up.  All we see of them in the movie is Deadshot is an assassin-for-hire who loves his daughter, and never kills women or children, Killer Croc lives in the sewers, and seemingly only attacks people who attack him, El Diablo is a pacifist,Captain Boomerang is a bank robber and Harley Quinn is a mentally-ill gymnast with Stockholm syndrome.  Hardly the worst humanity has to offer.

In fact, other than Enchantress - an evil spirit awakened from a 2,000 year imprisonment, so understanderbly miffed - the only character who truly shows themselves to be a cold, calculating sociopath is Waller.

The most glaring example of this lack of background, however, is Jared Leto’s much-touted Joker.  After all of the behind-the-scenes reports of how scarily ‘method’ he got with the role, the Joker’s entire on-screen character is that of a violent, but strategic gang boss with a weird growl and an obsession with Quinn.  The elements are all there for this to be an interesting new take on the character - how did he establish himself?  what’s he done to earn his reputation?  why is he so obsessed with Quinn far beyond the simple pleasure the character’s previously taken in having a loyal attractive pet around to play with and abuse as he fancies? - but we get none of this, and as a result, he’s little more than a caricature.

Leto has stated that a lot of his scenes wound up on the cutting-room floor, but no matter what’s in them, I struggle to see how a few deleted scenes would cover the gaping holes in the character.

Again, this isn’t just an issue with Suicide Squad.  We’re now three movies into the DC Cinematic Universe, and the only character with a true origin story is the one character who, not only everyone knows - comic-book fan or not - but whose entire character relies on being consistent and immovable.  In other words, the only character in this whole enterprise who doesn’t need an origin story.*

*I realise we also get Batman’s (wholly unnecessary by now) origin story, but that’s just

why he became Batman, not what turned him into this version of Batman.

In WB’s rush to catch up with Marvel, they’ve completely missed what has made the MCU so successful: namely the balance struck between staying true to the characters’ comic-book origins, while making them accessible enough to a new, cinema-going audience.

That said, at least Suicide Squad has added a sorely-lacking element of fun to the franchise.

Filler

Agents of SHIELD is apparently tanking in the States, thanks to an already flagging viewership, causing its creators to sideline interesting plot in favour of uninteresting relationships in an attempt to at least hold on to the lowest common denominator, thus ensuring numbers flag further.

Full disclosure at this point: this is another post inspired by ol' MovieBob (but isn't all about this):



It's a shame because, slow as it was to start, I still enjoyed season 1 from the get-go thanks to the characters and general set-up. Once it really got going and went all-out in season 2, it was genuinely great, and I was excited to see where it all went in season 3 (though because I live in the UK, and didn't realise till last week it was on E4, I've been awaiting the opportunity to binge it elsewhere).

That said, I was perhaps fortunate in the fact I watched it on Netflix: I didn't have to wait a week at a time to see the overarching plot slowly develop amidst all of the slow, less interesting stuff. This is yet another in a long line of American series that are far too long. 24, Lost, Arrow, Dexter, House, Breaking Bad, even Buffy the Vampire Slayer: in the best of them, the characters and eagerness to see the plot develop keep you hooked, even during the many filler episodes, while the worst of them are an endurance test, if you stick with them at all (looking at you, Heroes).

I get it: the whole point of a 'season' is that it runs for a season, and there's less pressure on the various networks to keep coming up with new things to fill the airwaves, but when was the last time any show had enough plot to remain interesting over its entire 24 episode run? Even season 2 of Daredevil had to pad its run-time with the tedious and ill-conceived Elektra stuff, and that was only 13 episodes!

And the issue extends beyond drawing out a potentially interesting narrative until it becomes too thin for a Michael Bay movie. Though there's less pressure on the networks themselves, there's a lot more on the shows' creators to keep things interesting, and if interest flags just a bit, then the network will be less willing to commit another 24 weeks of scheduling to a follow-up season.

I'm not saying American shows should go the way of British shows, that only stick around for 6 episodes a year (or 3 every 2 years, in the case of Sherlock), but there's surely a happy medium.  

Take Game of Thrones: while not without filler (how many people watched the first 3 seasons eager to see what happened next to Sansa?), nor is it long enough to out-stay its welcome. At only 10 episodes a season, it's required by design to stay on point, without too often meandering into needless sub-plots (Dorn notwithstanding), or pulling the inane trick of having characters act completely out of character just to create conflict and drag a small idea out to a whole episode (Dear Arrow, there's a big difference between layering or evolving a character, and having them randomly act like a douche just to force an artificial epiphany later in the episode).

Another advantage is it opens up the schedule to more shows. How many ideas fall by the wayside because networks are handing out 24-week slots, rather than 10 or 12? How many shows could have been given a second chance? How many shows wouldn't have seen a dramatic drop-off if they weren't dragging on for the better part of 6 months?

Boy Scout Blues

I've never been a big fan of Superman.  I enjoyed the Christopher Reeve films as a kid, but beyond that, I found the more-or-less omnipotent boy scout thing dull, especially next to more complex superheroes like Spider-Man and Batman.

The problem is, Superman was a character of his time, and although he evolved significantly from his conceptual beginnings, and enjoyed something of a reboot with the Richard Donner film, his relevancy dropped off a cliff shortly after Superman II, and has never really recovered, as evidenced by DC's repeated and increasingly desperate attempts to recapture people's imagination:



I bring this up because, Bob Chipman - aka MovieBob - just released an insightful little piece on why the aforementioned Richard Donner film worked, and why it (mostly) holds up to this day:



Now I don't entirely agree - certainly not on the point of how well it holds up today (taken out of the context of its time, I find it slow, clunky, cheesy and a bit silly-looking) - but he does make a particularly good point on how a character like Superman needs to be adapted for the screen, highlighting why recent interpretations since that whole mess in the 90s - not just in terms of the Zack Snyder films, but from DC in general - have failed:

"People are bored of him because he's invincible, so we'll kill him."
"Kids like Rambo-esque action heroes, so we'll give him a mullet and guns."
"People miss the old Superman, so we'll do the old Superman."
"Oh, people don't like the old Superman, so we'll put him in jeans and a t-shirt."
"Batman's still popular, so we'll also make Superman brooding and gritty."
"Okay, we've no idea what people want...so we'll make Superman lost and clueless too!"

While Donner and crew were focused on presenting Superman as everyone needed and expected to see him, both DC's comic-book and cinematic arms have since tried to present him as they think the audience thinks they want to see him.  The result being...



Personally, I think Superman has had his day.  There's still a place for him, but I don't believe that place is as a protagonist in his own stories.

Superman is an ideal: incorruptible, indestructible and insurmountable.  Even amongst his fellow superheroes, he's a higher presence; there for the rest to aspire to.  He long ago reached a point where, to have him flying around punching bad-guys in the face - how ever powerful those bad-guys might be - was to undermine the character.

Better now to either make a genuine martyr of him - without the usual resurrection cop-out - or to have him acknowledge his own status and remove himself from the day-to-day goings on, only to return when the stakes become universal.