CAPTAIN MARVEL, AND A RESPONSE TO SOME OF THE DUMBER CRITICISMS
CAPTAIN MARVEL, AND A RESPONSE
TO SOME OF THE DUMBER CRITICISMS
A
quick note: this is not a review of Captain
Marvel. For the record, I held off reading any reviews until I’d seen the
film (which I quite liked.) As I slogged through a litany of mixed to negative pieces
on the film, I took note of some recurring comments. NB: I’m leaving aside any
issues outside of the film itself.
·
“It’s another standard origin story.”
This
one is curious to me. Looking back at Marvel’s Phase One and Phase Two origin
movies, they follow this template: a person with no powers but some semblance
of an extraordinary personality is given either powers (Captain America, Doctor
Strange, The Incredible Hulk) or a suit (Iron Man, Ant-Man), with which they
struggle at first and then use to defeat the Big Bad who seeks to conquer the
nation or the world. (Thor is a notable exception in that he begins with powers
and then loses them, only to earn them back for Act 3. Black Panther also
follows this template.)
Conversely,
Captain Marvel’s acquisition of power happens only in flashback, and arguably
is only tangential to the main action of the story. Thematically, her struggle
is to twofold: 1) to realize that her powers (represented by internal fire and
frequently conflated with her ‘emotions’) were not granted to her by an
external authority but are intrinsic to her being; and 2) that her powers are
not a liability to be harnessed, as her Kree mentor would have her believe, but
an asset that is beyond external control.
·
“It’s
not as good as Wonder Woman/Black Panther.”
These
three movies are very different movies attempting to accomplish three different
things. Let’s put aside for a moment the notion that when we make this
comparison, we are pitting the three main ‘minority’ films against one another.
(As Tina Fey stated in Bossypants,
the idea that women are in competition with one another is wrongminded.)
Wonder Woman tells a ‘fish
out of water’ story. She’s coming from a world where her powers are celebrated,
and where she is encouraged to simply focus them. The error of her original
world is that the world of men is not to be trusted. In that sense, a better
comparison – if you absolutely have to make one – would be with The Little Mermaid.
Black Panther tells a ‘redemption
of a king’ story. He’s coming from a world of privilege, and he sees himself as
carrying on a noble tradition. The error of his original world is in its
insularity and its privilege. In that sense, a better comparison – if you
absolutely have to make one – would be with Rocky
III.
Captain Marvel is a rite of
passage story. She’s coming from a militaristic world that has more in common
with the Roman Empire in its dominate and conquest mentality than it does with
Wakanda or Themyscira. The error of her original world is in their deception
and subjugation. In that sense, a better comparison – if you absolutely have to
make one – would be with L.A.
Confidential.
So
which is better – L.A. Confidential,
Rocky III, or The Little Mermaid? The answer is that the idea of comparing
these movies is, at best, ridiculous. They’re all trying to do different
things. The fact that Wonder Woman, Black
Panther, and Captain Marvel all
fit under the broad and increasingly expansive genre of superhero films doesn’t
give it any more credence.
·
“Brie
Larson’s performance was wooden.”
I’m
always curious what most people mean when they say that so-and-so is a good
actor or a bad actor. I taught theater in colleges for a decade, and this was something
about which I regularly challenged my non-major students. How do you define a
good or a bad performance? Keep in mind – I’m not saying there aren’t good or
bad performances. I’m simply asking, what are your criteria for judging an actor’s performance?
Take
this into account: think about what the general public means when they refer to
someone (Jared Leto, Christian Bale, Jim Carrey in some films) as a ‘method
actor.’ Usually this is a reference to physical changes that an actor will make
to his or her body for a role, and/or the stories on set of an actor ‘remaining
in character’ for the duration of the shoot. Whether these are truly useful
ways of ensuring a good performance is a side issue. (I’d argue, especially
after Leto’s Suicide Squad
performance, that this is more a publicity stunt than anything else. I didn’t
think he was bad – but the lengths of his off-camera endeavors did perceptibly
little to enhance the screen performance.)
And
yet this has very little to do with Stanislavsky, or Adler, or Meisner, or
Strasberg. Stanislavsky’s so-called ‘method’ was a reaction to the kind of
presentational acting that had dominated the stage since the Renaissance and
before, and sought to encourage a more naturalistic style. The method boiled
down to this: 1) determine the character’s essential action in a scene; 2)
determine the ‘as if,’ in which an actor used his or her own experiences to
find a similar instance in their own lives from which they could draw upon in
performance, and; 3) use this kind of research to be present on stage and
pursue that essential action.
Like
with academic and psychological terminology, we in the general public tend to
co-opt certain terms and then use them to mean whatever we want them to mean.
So
what does this have to do with Brie Larson’s performance in Captain Marvel? Well – what do you mean
by wooden? What, in the character as it exists on the page, requires that she
give a visible, presentational, wide-ranging
emotional performance? Carol Danvers, the character that exists on the page, is
well-established as a fighter both before and after her abduction by the Kree.
Moreover, she is a personality that was drawn to the military, and who made the
sort of sacrifices one must make to rise in the military ranks. Her friendships
and her heroes were both in that military system. We see that her father (at
least in the one instance where we meet him) discouraged her from taking on ‘manly’
endeavors. The script gives us no hint of a romantic life anywhere. And then
post Kree abduction, she remains in a Spartan lifestyle by necessity, and is
literally cut off from her previous life.
Put
these things together – to play Carol Danvers as an emotionally stoic person is
not simply an appropriate choice. It is a strong
choice. The script gives no reason to play her as emotionally volatile as
Thor or Tony Stark, nor as heart-driven as Steve Rogers. This is a different
character with different requirements, and excellent precedents.
·
“She
didn’t have an arc.”
Let’s
put aside for a moment that there are successful movies, even within the Marvel
Cinematic Universe, with arcs so faint they are nearly straight lines. (Steve’s
arc in Captain America :The First Avenger,
is to remain the same inner person despite a massive change in environment.)
Put
simply, Carol Danvers has an obvious arc. To use John Truby’s terms, the
character moves from slavery to freedom. She also moves from ignorance to knowledge.
Does she have a weakness? Yes – she’s a victim of a hierarchical system which seeks
to stifle her inner fire, and she’s also been both misled and even brainwashed
by the Kree. Does she have a need? Yes – to recognize that her powers are not a
liability granted to her from outside, but an intrinsic asset for which she
alone is responsible. Does she have a desire? Yes – to get to Dr. Lawson’s
laboratory before the bad guys do. (She also has an emotional desire, which is
to discover who she was before her Kree abduction.) Does she have a plan? Yes –
to investigate the available leads, to track down those who can help her, to
fend off the Skrulls, etc.) Is there a battle? Yes – once she’s discovered her
true enemy, she fights off an invasion of Earth and saves the Skrull people. Is
there a self-realization? Yes – in her battle against the Supreme Intelligence
we see that she realizes her powers are her own, not a gift to be taken away.
Is there a new equilibrium? Yes – she fights not as a cog in an army, but as a
solo hero.
This
is the very definition of a character arc.
·
“It
just didn’t do it for me.”
Go
to any unfavorable YouTube review of this film (or any other film), and you
will hear some variation of this sentence. It is well-past time to retire this sentence
in criticism, as it is completely and utterly meaningless.
Put
simply, if you can’t elucidate why a movie succeeds or fails to engage you,
then … well, you’re not a critic. You’re just somebody with an opinion.
Granted, you’re entitled to that opinion. I don’t write this essay to convince
you that you have to like Captain Marvel,
nor do I make any assumptions about why
you don’t like the movie. For instance, there are some filmmaking
criticisms that can certainly be leveled against the movie, as there are with
just about any movie. (The poorly-lit third act comes to mind.)
But
for God’s sake – if you’re going to put your opinion out there, do a little
more work. Criticism isn’t simply stating your opinion about a movie. It’s
seeking to understand the argument the movie makes, how well it makes it, how
valuable that argument is, how that argument fits into a larger context, and a
thousand more things. It requires real knowledge of how movies are made and how
stories are told. That requires not just reading, but applied practical
knowledge over time.
One
last metaphor, and then I’ll shut up: wine. Anybody can go into a restaurant
and order a glass of wine, and then make a judgment about whether or not they
like it. Nobody claims that that opinion is wrong. But to believe that that
opinion belongs on the same page and is equivalent to the opinion of a trained
sommelier, who can attest to the quality of a wine, who can identify its
characteristics right down to a blind identification of its origin – that’s
nonsense. There’s a reason why nobody makes that claim. Moreover, that
sommelier might have the opinion that the wine is of great quality, but not to
their own personal tastes. Those are two separate evaluations.
Put
simply: unless you are able to speak concisely about the elements of production
for a film, whether it be a superhero movie or an arthouse piece coming from a
film school in Uruguay, your YouTube ‘review’ doesn’t need to be 25+ minutes.
Just press record, say “I didn’t like it,” and then press stop.
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