Joss Whedon is a madman. He may be many other things -- writer, creator, nerd, scholar, pop culture enthusiast -- but he is still a madman. And only a madman would agree to take on Avengers: Age of Ultron.
Age of Ultron is the cinematic equivalent of juggling chainsaws while riding a unicycle. Let’s examine all such flying chainsaws: four superheroes capable of headlining their own franchises; a handful of secondary heroes, including Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Nick Fury; the origins and intentions of new entrants Quicksilver, Scarlet Witch, Vision, and Ultron; fleets of autonomous Ultron clones; several thousand Eastern European villagers; hallucinatory backstories; cosmic super gems; an evil internet. Then add Marvel Studios breathing down your neck about plugging other upcoming properties and changing the story on a daily basis. It’s enough to drive anyone crazy. After the release of 2012’s The Avengers, Whedon made the black-and-white Shakespearean adaptation Much Ado About Nothing as a personal detox. After this one, Whedon’s going to need a colonoscopy.
Avengers: Age of Ultron begins with the titular team capturing a cosmic gem with unlimited power (or something to that effect). Tony Stark and Bruce Banner attempt to harness its power for peace by creating an AI program, Ultron, that will ultimately relieve them of their duties; instead, Ultron achieves consciousness, replicates itself through the internet (!), constructs a physical form from spare parts (?), and rather briskly, concludes that all of humankind needs to die. Naturally, the Avengers must stop him.
The crazy thing about Age of Ultron is it’s actually reasonably enjoyable. Just not as a movie. As a conduit for merchandise advertising -- the various Iron Man armors to be pasted on T-shirts; the Ultrons in various stages of damage to be framed on walls; the weapons, props, and energy bolt accessories to be clipped onto plastic figurine arms -- it’s a home run. As a cinematic-universe-bridging super-orgasmic ensemble extravaganza, it can’t be beaten. This is the greatest sowing of seeds for franchise properties ever created in film history. It’s just not really a movie in its own right.
I recognize the plotline running through this movie. Near the beginning, the Avengers hold a party; they joke and laugh and everything is dandy. What could ever break up this collection of best friends? But after the events set forth by Ultron, the movie ends with the team disbanding. The Hulk is off to wrestle with existential questions, presumably about how he can live as a giant green monster without hurting innocent people. Hawkeye retreats to his Super Secret Spot. Even Iron Man decides to pursue other tasks. But this is not an arc. It’s simply a reshuffling of the cards, a perpetuating rotation of new characters to take over for retiring ones until the next phase when old Avengers and new Avengers re-assemble to form a Super Avengers team built for even more avenging.
A few weeks ago, I compared Furious 7 to the Marvel franchise and argued that they weren’t so far off from one another. Really: Dom is Iron Man; Brian is Captain America; Letty is Black Widow; Hobbs is Hulk, natch. But the biggest difference between the franchises stemmed from Fast & Furious’ upbringing, a journey that required the series to taste failure before becoming the global behemoth is it today. In its stumbles, the franchise discovered its core characters, ideals, and motivations. It even experimented with different flourishes in narrative conceits -- to varying levels of success -- but the important thing was it got the opportunity to try different things. Marvel has never really experienced failure; but with its undeniable string of success, Marvel has also never felt the need to stretch its storytelling potential or depart from its singular focus of making. more. money. Consequently, each film begins to take on an oppressive sense of moreness. There are only so many ways to threaten the world with CGI destruction only to CGI-save it. Maybe next time, lowering the stakes from global destruction to a philosophical or ethical battle may finally provide a climax with something that’s been missing in almost every Marvel movie -- real stakes.
Marvel’s determination to turn its properties not into movies, but into a giant interconnected universe of episodic stories, toys, clothing, ads, and Doritos has quickly become a fascinating study in the rules of modern filmmaking. Seemingly, the first lesson is that no single film may be self-contained; it must mention prior events, allude to characters as yet unseen, and constantly reference worlds outside its own. This is fine for people who want to uncover every last Easter Egg; for others, it’s the cinematic equivalent of inviting someone to dinner only to text someone else all night.
Yet I am hesitant to completely write off Marvel’s strategy here as Disney, its conglomerate overlord, has thrived on this merchandise tie-in model for decades. However, classic Disney never so blatantly pushed it capitalistic endeavors at the detriment of its films; each Disney movie was first and foremost, a self-contained story. Cinderella didn’t reference a half-fish lady in the ocean; Simba didn’t have a run-in with a flying carpet. Could you imagine if Disney had approached its princesses with the same shameless self-referential inside jokes as its Marvel characters? Thank god there aren’t Disney Princess Avengers… yet.
Ultimately, what the Marvel/Disney machine has proven is what I’ve feared for a long time -- the prioritization of profit margin over individual auteurship eroding all semblance of fun. I go to the movies to explore new worlds through new lenses, not the same world through one lens. And with each passing report of directors leaving due to “creative differences” or studio executives pressuring to include or exclude certain scenes, creative voices become increasingly quiet, individuality becomes increasingly distant. Sure, the final product is smooth and shiny and easily digested; but it’s also just as quickly forgotten. At one point in the movie, Ultron mutters his ultimatum, “All that shall remain will be metal.” Disney is already watching the coins pile up in record numbers. I wonder if Ultron meant this as a threat or a promise.
