Right:
Even Amy Adams
can't save "Man of Steel"
Who is Superman? That is a question that has perplexed comic
book readers and moviegoers for years.
To some, he is Clark Kent, the alien boy who grew up in Kansas, little
dreaming that he would one day become a scarlet-caped superhero. Yet for others, Clark doesn’t truly come into
his own until he adopts the moniker of Superman, setting out to save the
world. At the end of the day, both
interpretations have been immortalized in comics and movies which begs the
question: to which camp does “Man of Steel,” a cinematic retelling of Superman’s
origin belong?
In my
opinion, neither. This may be a Superman
movie, but it feels more like “cipher man.”
Supes (played by Henry Cavill) may dominate the screen visually, but he
has no soul—the film offers no sense of his beliefs, personality or
eccentricities, a flaw which is merely one of many nails in the coffin of this atrociously
bad film. There are moments early in the
film when it seems to coalesce into a dramatic and poetic adventure, but they
pass in a chaotic haze of bland explosions, dull dialogue, and jittery
cinematography that threatens to give you a headache.
It is
a testament to the film’s failings that even a terrific cast proves incapable
of saving it, although Russell Crowe comes close to doing so. As Superman’s alien father, he commands the
film’s opening sequence with grand dignity, leaping into and ocean and standing
firm against robots to save his son. The
ploy works and young Supes successfully escapes the devastation of his home
planet, destined Earth in a tiny, baby-sized space capsule. This is all quite familiar (especially to
anyone who has seen the original 1978 “Superman” film) but once the hero arrives
on Earth, “Man of Steel” engages in a series of flashbacks. Like a grimy-eyed juggler, director Zack
Snyder mixes and matches scenes of his protagonist’s time as a boy, a teen, and
ultimately, a stoically bearded adult, wandering aimlessly an immersed in
menial labor.
Ultimately,
these flashbacks may remind you of another superhero film—“Batman Begins,” which
adopted a jumbled chronology to illustrate the mental growth of its tortured
vigilante. Yet while glimpses of the
past enriched that film, they do nothing for “Man of Steel.” They all seem designed to illustrate the same
idea, chiefly that Superman can’t behave like a normal person—because of his
immense power, he has to let himself be bullied and in order to keep his
secret, he has to detach himself from society.
Clearly, these revelations are supposed to increase our sympathy for the
man, but they have quite the opposite effect.
Superman is so resigned to his miserable life (he stumbles upon his
iconic red and blue costume completely by coincidence, rather than seeking it
out) that he comes off as dopily sheep-like.
It doesn’t help that Mr. Cavill is a remarkably weak presence—aside from
a few screams of pain, he speaks in a dispassionate monotone. As the spirited reporter Lois Lane, Amy Adams
fights to compensate for her costar’s lack of charisma, by David S. Goyer’s
screenplay blocks her attempts by turning Lois into a simplistic damsel in
distress who’s main purpose is to stare at Superman adoringly. God forbid that one of the world’s most
talented and likable actresses should be allowed to actually do something.
In
many ways, Lois serves as our guide to the film. It is she, after all, who pursues reports of
a mysterious man involved in miraculous rescues and her quest to discover
Superman’s true identity allows us to get to know him better as well. Yet “Man of Steel” is hardly a getting to
know you movie—it’s a shadowy splurge of action that’s ignited when the alien
tyrant General Zod (Michael Shannon) arrives to annihilate both Earth and Superman. This setup begs for a depiction of apocalyptic
evil, but Zod is hardly menacing—he’s mostly a nasal-nosed lunatic, imbued with
Mr. Shannon’s satisfyingly salty viciousness but none of the emotional depth
that could have made his battle with Superman compelling. Even worse, that battle is staged with
stunning incompetence. In his quest to
create a sweeping entertainment, Mr. Snyder goes overboard, saturating the
entire film with crashing buildings and booming explosions, which are as boring
as they are numbing. The director also
displays a striking inability to stage action coherently. At one point, organic metal tentacles seize
Superman but I couldn’t even begin to guess where they sprang from or how they
were powered. All they did was remind of
Doc Ock’s mechanical appendages in “Spider-Man 2,” a massively superior film.
Despite
this madness, “Man of Steel” works hard to please. Thanks to Amir Mokri’s cinematography, the
film acquires a rich dimensionality and in terms of story, it doesn’t fail to
hit the superhero film beats we expect—the hero’s first flight, the hero’s
tragic losses, the hero’s first kiss with his love interest. Alas, that last one arrives with a bit of
weariness attached. “I hear it’s all
downhill after the first kiss,” Lois deadpans after being smooched by
Supes. But truly, “Man of Steel” goes
nowhere but down. I don’t think that’s
because Superman is irrelevant in a post-9/11—as Bryan Singer’s film “Superman
Returns” and the television series “Smallville” have proved, his isolation and painful
burdens make him more relatable than ever.
But that relatability is nowhere
to be found in “Man of Steel” because for all his elaborate showmanship and
command of special effects, Mr. Snyder forgot that there’s only one thing that
really matters in a summer movie—characters.
How odd that it is they who the film seems to care the least about. The cast of “Man of Steel” may walk and talk,
but they are limited to mundane philosophical observations, rather than the
human qualities that could have given the story of Superman true meaning once
more.
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