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| Credit: Wikimedia Commons/SVG/Disney |
Where does Marvel go next? This was the question we discussed on the latest edition of the podcast. Some 20 films into the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) and after the success of infinity War, it would seem that the studio is picking up steam rather than thinking about calling it a day.
‘It’s Marvel’s universe. We just live in it,’ declared New
York Times Critic A.O Scott in
his review of Avengers: Infinity War, in which he confronts the evolution
of the MCU from a commercial undertaking to immutable fact of life. ‘This
universe is engineered for variety and inclusiveness, within certain strict
parameters,’ wrote Scott. ‘Above all, the Disney-Marvel combination is a giant
machine that manufactures maximum consent.’
He’s not wrong, but neither is he complaining. The concept
of blockbusters, understood as maximalist entertainment, was mined and
exploited so perfectly by Marvel ten years ago. It continues to pay dividends, like a goldmine
that continues to reveal new tunnels.
What happens next in the next phase of Marvel’s cinematic
exploits – and there is surely an endless stream of adventures yet to come – stems
from its key insight ten years ago that crafting a fun, shared universe that
would satisfy the tastes of the casual moviegoer and hard-core fan alike could
be utilitarian through the deployment of recognisable and brand synergy. Marvel
movies are essentially serial’s blown up to universe-busting proportions: it’s
no accident that Russo brothers, those stalwarts of self-referential
television, were chosen to steward the three most ambitious crossover projects
in the MCU.
As DC clambers to assemble its own coherent cinematic
universe and Universal does whatever they are doing with their Monster Universe
(it’s currently on hold, apparently),
it’s difficult to quantify impact of Marvel in terms of how it is bringing universe-building
into fashion. Where, I think, it is better to view the impact of Marvel (and
potentially its legacy too), is in its style – of lack thereof.
It’s not a bad period for blockbusters, insofar as we live
in the blockbuster
age of Hollywood, where the concerns of marketing and spectacle sit firmly ahead
of creativity and originality. That’s not snobbery - it’s the blueprint of
big-budget movie production and marketing. It has been the case since the end
of the freewheeling New
Hollywood era in the mid-seventies.
Compared to the eighties and almost definitely the nineties,
the current decade for big-budget fare is not so bad. Films are more accountable
to their audiences now and the once elusive word-of-mouth discussions around
cinema are elevated to and empowered on public platforms even if this isn’t
always for the better (in fact it could be credibly argued that the
negatives outweigh the positives).
This is reflected in the by-committee approach to
development in the big studios that aim to, in equal measure, placate and
delight as broad an audience as possible. The hyper-reactive way that movies are
received by the public intensifies this: when a studio gets it wrong, it goes
really wrong, and everyone involved looks the worse for it. Criticism of
big movies can snowball at alarming pace- often
before a film comes out - and is traceable by tweets, think-pieces and
sustained debate.
Most criticism that catches aflame is certainly valid,
particularly when concerning social issues such as representation and politics.
Responses to these issues, and the vivacity in which they are delivered, has
confronted studios directly with the concerns of real people in a way that is
long overdue.
But there is a second dimension of this climate: that of the
disgruntled fan. A consequence from this strand of moviegoing culture - which lavishes in the minutiae of
plot detail, and is often
tribal in their support of tentpoles - is that big studios have a minefield
to navigate when deciding where to put the money. Factor into this the average
moviegoer, who doesn’t care for forums and fandom, as well as the omen of Netflix
and on-demand content, and you have the multiplex in 2018.
The popular complaint out of all of this is that Hollywood
is risk-averse, almost to the point of paralysis, with big studios ploughing
cash into movie ‘experiences’ that explode loud enough to wrest the attention
of the masses.
In this terrain then, Marvel excels (even with the odd
scuffle intact). With Marvel, I’m oddly reminded of an interview with
techno DJ Adam Beyer about his approach to playing. Beyer, one of the biggest
names in techno today, said he aims to provide maximum satisfaction to his
audience by in essence playing what they expect from him and his brand. People pay
good money to see him, and it is his prerogative to deliver on those
expectations. While other DJ’s will look to challenge and surprise the dance
floors they play, Beyer lives up to his billing in the most literal. In this
functionalist sense, Marvel thrives.
By establishing its own universe it sets the parameters of
every film within it, not just in scope but style too. We know, by-and-large
what to expect from a Marvel movie. The core sensibilities remain intact, the
self-referential, taking itself not-so-seriously, plot arcs and so on. Differences between Marvel movies are
permutations, not variations - even if the results of these can occasionally
lead to great results. There’s a reason I, the card carrying comic book fan,
can love the movie as much as the casual moviegoer – these movies deliver a
reliable brand of utilitarian, wholesome fun.
No Marvel movie has a Rotten Tomato score below a respectable
66 per cent (no, it’s not Iron Man 2), but neither has one been hailed as
an outright masterpiece either. I’d contend that there isn’t a single entry in
the Marvel cannon worthy of that hallowed label, and (hopefully I’m wrong here)
l suspect there’s probably not going to be one in the future. To look at things like
this is to miss the trick, however: Marvel isn’t
aiming to push the medium forward and strive for artistic greatness in this
way. As Scott notes in his review, Marvel’s more inventive movies like Black
Panther and Thor: Ragnarok are ‘carefully planned exceptions that uphold a rule
(meaning a regime as well as a norm) of passive acceptance disguised as
enthusiasm’.
Retaining its distinctive familiarity, whilst being just
different enough to be considered single entities, each movie is absorbed into
the Marvel machine. This is safe, sanitised, cinema, where the punches don’t
hurt, the colours wash
out and the tone is reassuringly similar (that the ending of infinity war
was so jarringly dark was made all the more powerful because of this). The
cinematic equivalent of putting on warm blanket in a rainy day, Marvel movies perform
their function so damn well it’s almost annoying.
Any individuality in these movies is subsumed under the
logic of the Marvel universe, making the MCU the logical end to the by-committee
approach to blockbusters. The MCU is so democratically crafted that it leaves
its films them devoid of personality, particularly that of its creative core. Yes, the wisecracking in the Avengers had a
Whedon flavour to it, and Thor Ragnarok’s goofy humour bore the signature of
director Taiki Waititi, but these are small flourishes that dissolve into the
larger project each instalment is geared towards. The structure, style and the worldview
are coherent across the board - same game, different players.
The best way of discerning the aesthetic (or lack of) of the
MCU is to look at superhero movies outside the cannon. Sam Raimi’s Spider-man
was bubbling with pulpiness; Bryan Singer’s X2 was potent
and grimy. Christopher Nolan, a Christ-like figure among fans, legitimised
comic book cinema as serious art by subverting
the mysticism around the entire genre. This amount of creative license
can’t compare to the handful of quips and flourishes in the MCU that vaguely
resemble shards of a director’s previous work.
And this is fine. Rather than attempting to ape the features
of its biggest successes (a la Nolan and DC), Marvel build on what works whilst
nudging audiences with new challenges for its hero’s to face. However it is
Kevin Fiege and the big bods at Disney, not directors that define the ship’s direction.
The success of the MCU is already having its effect, as
studios move towards jacking-up their existing franchises, exchanging risk for familiarity.
In an attempt to sketch out a similar one-size –fits-all structure for their
tentpole movies, studios are increasingly playing it safe. Who can blame
them? Marvel has hit on an incredibly
successful formula– albeit at the altar of creativity – and at a time where the
multiplex perceives itself to be under threat, what’s wrong with sticking to a
winning script? Marvel represents the prime meridian of the blockbuster in
2018, and it looks like it’s here to stay for a while.
