The Battle of Summer 2012
Years from now, when countless new tales of super soldiers,
mutants, and billionaire orphans invade movie screens across the country,
people will think back to the summer of 2012. They will remember a crossroads in the history of summer
blockbuster filmmaking, a diversion in the road between two antithetical
methodologies of filmmaking.
It's not hyperbole to say we are on the cusp of two films that may come to define not just the superhero genre, but filmmaking altogether. This Friday, Marvel Studios will release their unprecedented mega-sequel, multi-story orgasm of a geek fantasy, The Avengers. And less than three months later, DC Comics will bestow the capper to a nearly decade-long journey through what may be the darkest and most successful hero franchise to date, The Dark Knight Rises.
It's not hyperbole to say we are on the cusp of two films that may come to define not just the superhero genre, but filmmaking altogether. This Friday, Marvel Studios will release their unprecedented mega-sequel, multi-story orgasm of a geek fantasy, The Avengers. And less than three months later, DC Comics will bestow the capper to a nearly decade-long journey through what may be the darkest and most successful hero franchise to date, The Dark Knight Rises.
In many respects, The
Avengers is the new kid on the block. It's young, loud, and fun.
The cast look like they stepped out of a GQ magazine shoot. It's a supremely
flashy and irresistible collection of young studs and babes, of actors bathed
in rainbow-colored skintight costumes shooting imaginary energy bolts at
imaginary enemy things. It's the ascension of a decades-old comic book publishing
company turned movie studio, declaring the arrival of hundreds more Marvel
spin-offs, sequels, and reboots. And surely, it's a feast for the eyes and
ears, summer popcorn escapism in its purest and most entertaining form.
In contrast, Rises looks
like the grumpy old man on the porch. It's gloomy, tense, and unflinching. The
cast looks like an aging collection of your parents' favorite actors. It's a
strictly down-and-dirty tale of heroism, sacrifice, and identity, of 9/11
allegories and villainous terrorist plots. It's the final culmination to one
director's vision of an iconic character, ending a trilogy that has already
changed the superhero landscape more than most people dare to admit. And
surely, it encompasses classic thematic narratives focusing on ambitions and motives, eschewing grandiose CGI and instead, relying on special effects to complement the story, not overwhelm it.
When the dust settles, I have a feeling The Avengers will have the longer tail. Even if both films garner
the same praise and make the same boatloads of money, The Avengers will come out on top not necessarily because of quality, but because of the money yet to be tapped. Ask yourself, would
you rather see another film about a brooding orphan while old men wax poetic about villainy and heroism? Or would you
rather see buff dudes bantering with hot babes while alien spacecrafts explode
in the skies?
To me, this is the quintessential dilemma between creativity
and commerce. It's a choice between storytelling rooted in something
honest, emblematic, and provocative or something ostentatious, fleeting, and
artificial. And for me, it's no contest.
Some things catch your eyes and numb your ears. They're loud
and fun and wonderfully amusing. But like any flashy firecracker, they burn
quickly and are immediately forgotten once consumed. And then there are things that stick with you. They rattle around in your brain like mind grenades long after you've gone home, threatening to ignite in bouts
of epiphanic inspiration and understanding. They keep you up at night and remind you of moments in your everyday life. They speak to something inherently greater than
itself, echoing something universal and transcending its canvas, its medium,
its limitations. And it makes you wonder how anyone could have done what was done
and begs the question, "Why can't everything be this good?"
