May 2012, how I remember
you. It was the month of “The Avengers,”
that box office-busting epic of costumed heroes slugging it out against the
proverbial armies of intergalactic evil.
Everyone cheered the film’s arrival—everyone except me. I had bled fanboyish passion all over many a
superhero picture, but I felt nothing watching that one (save for the headache I
had in the wake of its soulless, Manhattan-crunching violence).
The sequel is another matter. In the vein of its predecessor, “Avengers:
Age of Ultron” is a wild opus of roaring sound effects that could douse even
the cushiest theater seat with a mini earthquake. Yet just like one of its villains, the
supersonic-platinum blonde Quicksilver (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), the movie also
moves with speed and elegance, letting you relish the ecstatic whirl of being
ushered into a realm of otherworldly sights—of high-tech aircrafts and godlike
beings who exist, thrillingly, far beyond the mundane.
But more on that later.
The first blush of the film (which was written and directed by Joss
Whedon and produced by Marvel Studios) is a leap into a woodsy fray as the
Avengers bash their way into the medieval-esque hideout of a Nazi mad scientist
(don’t ask). It’s a breathlessly
choreographed battle; I watched “Ultron” from a front row seat, but even from
my neck-craning vantage point, I felt seized by the glorious motion of this
passage, from the first shot of the noble Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) steering
his motorcycle between rough tree trunks to the magnificent flourish that
finishes the fight: Avengers captain Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr.) snatching
a blue-tipped scepter, just as Mr. Whedon cuts to black.
But I’m neglecting the film’s story; apologies. Fresh from their assembly in the first film, the
Avengers turn their gaze from fighting global wrongdoing to ending it
entirely. “I think we just found a way
to create Ultron,” Tony intones with dry wonder, alluding to a nasty metal
behemoth whose world-protecting abilities could be the key to the Avengers’ retirement.
The rapidity with which Ultron is constructed (and
decides that, hey, people are terrible and ought to be blown up for their own
good) is a testament to how feeble the narrative of “Age of Ultron” really
is. Surely it would have taken Tony
years to craft his cyber-Frankenstein, but Mr. Whedon rushes through Ultron’s
creation in one montage. It’s a choice
that betrays Mr. Whedon’s dismaying eagerness to leapfrog from one explosion to
the next—something that spurs him to neglect some of the finer details of his
story (at one point, an unarmed man swaggers into a heavily-guarded dungeon
without encountering a single disposable lackey).
So what makes “Age of Ultron” a cut above the original? Certainly not its inane quips (“Yay!” Tony
crows irritatingly as he strides through a hidden doorway) or its bumbling
attempts to humanize its heroes (the Avengers’ recuperative stopover at a farm offers
one of the most hackneyed portraits of rural domesticity in cinematic history). Yet there’s no denying that the grind of welding
together eleven industrial entertainments has aged the Marvel movie makers somewhat
gracefully (“Age of Ultron” bears the creative boot print of its producer,
Kevin Feige, as much as it does Mr. Whedon’s).
In other words, it’s all too easy to look past Mr.
Whedon’s sloppy storytelling and relish the sensation of seeing this massive
entertainment unfold on an equally massive screen. Just look at the climax, in which the
Avengers join forces atop a rubble-strewn city in Eastern Europe; with gleaming
ease, it allows you to sit back and lose yourself in the poetically grimy
chaos, as buildings and aircraft carriers rise towards the clouds and, in a
moment of hairpin excitement, a young man appears out of nowhere, his body
oozing bullets.
That’s just one of many moments when the special
effects-laden grandeur of the enterprise hooks you. Yet it’s the actors who animate the movie, especially
Scarlett Johansson (who sports a beautifully-coiffed auburn bob as the superspy
Natasha Romanov). Rarely does Ms.
Johansson get a chance to exude her vivid vulnerability from “Lost in
Translation” or her cutting strength from “Match Point”; here, she emanates both. “I adore you,” she tells one of her teammates
towards the end of “Age of Ultron” as she smooches him. It’s a tender moment but after the kiss, Ms.
Johansson doesn’t hesitate or flinch; she just does the only sensible thing an
actor can do in a summer superhero epic.
She pushes the guy off a cliff.
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