He flies. He wears bright primary colors. He hurls small islands into space. He cannot tell a lie. He's death on film.So there we were, minding our own business. We Metropolisians had managed rather well for several years without the Spandex Wonder, and we were starting to feel confident that we didn't need him anymore. Crime was down; we'd had very few catastrophic spacecraft-related accidents; Lex Luthor was reduced to swindling little old ladies out of their money; life was pretty damn good.
Then he came flapping back into town.
I couldn't help but think of those prophetic words spoken so long ago by the wise Gloria Gaynor:
And so you're back
from outer space.
I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face.
I should have changed that stupid lock;
I should have made you leave your key,
if I had known for just one second you'd be back to bother me...
Oh, how right you were, sistah. He's back from his trip to see the asteroid-strewn hole in space where Krypton used to be, but he hasn't found any survivors of his race. Big surprise there. Do we not remember that Krypton exploded? Superman wasn't launched here as a baby because his home planet was going through a particularly nasty economic recession or a potato famine!
So he's really moody and depressed, and he becomes even more so when he discovers that the suddenly hot-and-sexy Lois Lane has moved on and gotten engaged to Cyclops from the X-Men. That hussie just moves around from one superhero's bed to another. Plus, she has a kid now who wheezes through all of his lines so that we are good and surprised when he turns out to be . . . well, I don't want to spoil the big, shocking twist. Of course, it's really more like a lame half-turn than a twist.
And to top it off, he seems to have ripped off every trick in the late Mr. Reeve's book of Superman characteristics. He walks in the same way; he talks in the same way; he's even managed to ape the way Reeve said "Lois" in a commanding yet nerdy nasal tone as Clark Kent. So why did we make this movie, again? I forget.
Maybe it was because of the super-cool, ubiquitous special effects we could cram into every frame. No, I don't think that was it. After all, aside from one mildly entertaining incident involving an improbable space shuttle malfunction (occuring with absurd coincidence just as ol' Supey gets back to town and involving Lois Lane from the get-go), there really isn't much action in this action flick.
The one shining beam of comedy gold in all this mediocre grey is Parker Posey. She is really up there giving it her all as Lex Luthor's chatty sidekick Kitty, and more than once I chuckled at her hilarious facial expressions and classic line delivery. Sadly, Ms. Posey could not hold the weight of this colossal bore on her petite little shoulders.
That's why this reporter came out of the theatre with a droopy posture and a shaky sigh. Superman is apparently forever doomed to be tragically lame at the box office. He'll never have the cool, edgy feel of the gothic Dark Knight, and Spiderman will always be a more identifiable superhero because the audience actually is sometimes afraid for his safety. Let's face it; when you're Superman, all you have to fear is Lex Luthor's inevitable inclusion of Kryptonite in whatever evil scheme he's cooked up. Once you've been punched and kicked a few times at close range and thoroughly humiliated, you'll fly away and regain your strength and somehow overcome your allergic reaction to the green crystal. Then you'll perform some enormous feat of strength and beat the everloving crap out of Luthor and his lackeys. Every time. Where are the high stakes in that tired old scenario?
It appears King Solomon was right: "There's nothing new under the sun." And though Superman may draw his power from the sun, it certainly cannot imbue him with the power of originality.
P.S. - See if you can find the not-so-subtle nod to The Da Vinci Code amongst all of the Christian allusions made in this film; it's blasphemoriffic!
Well? Is anyone there? For the last several posts, I've felt rather like a blind mime performing for an audience of no one. Blogs cannot live without an audience, so this mime might just have to wipe off his make-up and hang up his invisible ladder if he doesn't start getting some comments. I do have other things to do, you know. Jeesh, people.
In honor of cinema's creepiest kid on his evil birthday, let's recap what happened with the first Omen to see if we really should have made another one. Travel back with me to the decadent 1970s, if you will, when cocaine was as common as table salt and homosexual Nazis roamed the streets disco-dancing...
I watched Magnolia last night for the first time, and I really just have to be honest and admit that I don't have any idea what the point of the movie was supposed to be. Sure, there were interesting characters who had some real issues to deal with, but why include all that crap at the beginning about coincidences if you're just going to drop frogs on us at the end? At least Crash (to which many compare Magnolia, though I can't imagine why) had a genuinely good plot that actually did intertwine the lives of its seemingly isolated characters. Having everyone involved in your film notice that frogs are falling from the sky at approximately the same time does not count as an amazing coincidence. I guess that's why Crash won the Oscar and Magnolia was only nominated.
