*WE CAN”T STOP HERE, THIS IS SPOILER COUNTRY*
I’m not “review guy.” Not anymore at least. I love movies, I love comics, and I love when the two meet to create something that transcends each medium on its own. Something that brings comic nerds and ‘splodey movie enthusiasts together on common ground. It’s the greatest. I usually keep my shirt on about whether or not the Movie Types got it right or not, I typically keep things like “why is Peter Parker in a My Chemical Romance video?” or “I think Ryan Reynolds did a find/replace all with ‘have will power’ and ‘be super hot’” inside my pretentious little head.
But MAN OF STEEL… I just… don’t even…
Now, I’m not a Superman fan by any means. I have enjoyed Christopher Reeve, George Newburn, Tim Daly, and of course Morrison’s All-Star. Past that, he’s been a cookie-cutter-no-thanks-I’d-rather-read-Batman character for me. I understand that’s just me. I know what he stands for and what he, as a character, is supposed to be for people. I just never found a place where he fit into my idea of what the character should do or be. I was never C.J. Kirkblade. I’m just not that handsome and I certainly can’t grow facial hair.
Snolan’s MAN OF STEEL was my hope, my light at the end of the tunnel. Not just a hope for DC to finally move toward the “Marvel Model” or escape mistakes like DKR, Green Lantern, and Superman returns, but to give the world, and me, Superman. THE Superman. And for a moment there, I held it in my hands. It was Glorious. Then, something happened. Something, that hurt me. I have no clue what happened to me or why it was affecting me so heavily. I just know I felt violated.
Superman just doesn’t murder. Ever. Even power-hungry “A Better World” Superman just lobotomized dudes. It’s blatant and unnecessary character betrayal. Plain. Simple. There had to have been at least 30 or so suits that said yes to the last 15 minutes of the movie. And one of them was Chris Nolan. And that, amongst other feels, pours a miserable vomitous mass of an icing on top of my already trampled cake. I just wanted cake, guys. I just wanted cake.
I wanted to like this movie. I think a secret, deep down, part of me wanted to love this movie. And I did. And then I didn’t. And now I don’t. To the point where I’m VENTING ON THE INTERNET?! I’m sure you, person who’s still reading this, might have liked it, or even loved it, through and through. And that’s ok. I’ll just have to deal with the fact that I’ll never get the Superman I want. My Superman is dead. Not in Kryptonian sleep. Superdead.
I leave with this:
MAN OF STEEL
- Kryptonian History rocking most of the first act
- Perfectly cast Kal-El (in my head: as played by Stephen Christy)
- Michael Shannon reprising his role as Peter Evans
- Epicly Epic ‘splodey parts
- Brilliant new take on Lois/Clark dynamic
- For a preachy atheist, Zack Snyder really spread the ‘Superman is sort of an allegory for Christ’ on pretty thick.
Not so good stuffs:
- All Most of Goyer’s dialogue
- “Release the kraken world machine”
- Snyder’s not so subtle “hey, guys. I know this is a Superman movie, but it’s also Dragonbal Z and the Matrix.”
- Rocket Wieners
Inexcusably bad stuffs:
- Superman killed a dude.
Takin’ a break for a stretch.
The Way of the Samurai is found in death. Meditation on inevitable death should be performed daily. Every day when one’s body and mind are at peace, one should meditate upon being ripped apart by arrows, rifles, spears and swords, being carried away by surging waves, being thrown into the midst of a great fire, being struck by lightning, being shaken to death by a great earthquake, falling from thousand-foot cliffs, dying of disease or committing seppuku at the death of one’s master. And every day without fail one should consider himself as not Jon Hamm. This is the substance of the way of the samurai.