Guardians of the Galaxy Review: Everything is Awesome

Before I start this review, let me make one thing perfectly clear. Yes, this rant is almost three weeks too late. My most sincere apologies, work got in the way. And on that note, I realize A LOT has happened in that intervening three weeks. We lost one of the best comedians of our generation (R.I.P. Robin Williams). Warner Brothers announced nine additional DC films. Star Wars VII rumors ran amok across the wilds of the Internet. And the dreaded Ninja Turtles reboot was surprisingly not awful. All this and more I plan to address, but first, the latest addition to the MCU must undergo my thorough inspection.

To put it mildly, "Guardians of the Galaxy" was spectacular. Ten films in, and you'd think that Marvel had nothing new to shake up the formula. Who knew after all this time, they'd release one of the most original and entertaining superhero films in years? Scratch that, one of the most original and entertaining blockbuster films in years, and a pulpy space opera to boot. The fact that this film even exists simply boggles the mind. So how good is this film? Well, let's put it this way. Our main hero opens the film blasting '70s pop hits from a Walkman while scouring for an alien artifact. Prior to this, we get a prologue on Earth. The only time we even get to see our native planet, a first for a cosmic superhero film.

The opening seems to set an entirely different tone, more a deadly serious drama than a space-set action comedy. Our aforementioned hero, Peter Quill/Star-Lord, runs away after his mother dies from cancer. It's an emotionally gripping scene, but somewhat off putting given what the advertising promised. Then Peter is abducted by a wandering spacecraft (no, really) and the ride begins. Cut to an adult Quill, now a space pirate, dancing to "Come and Get Your Love", and the film really kicks into high gear. The title and opening credits play out over this dance sequence, channeling those feel-good movies of the '70s and '80s. Back when pop cinema was creative, engrossing, and above all entertaining just for the sake of it. From there, "Guardians" grabs you and never lets go.

Seriously, I've seen this film twice now and both times I was gushing with joy over it. As a comic adaptation, it's brilliant, but as a well-made film it's even better. Chris Pratt plays Quill as a cross between Mal Reynolds, Captain Kirk, Han Solo, and Marty McFly, and is having so much fun with the role you can't help but fall in love with him. But with all due respect, his fellow Guardians are the real stars here. In particular, Vin Diesel's Groot and Bradley Cooper's Rocket. Not only are they a pristine example of meshing CGI with human actors, but both are fully fleshed out characters.

I don't know how they made a walking tree who only says "I Am Groot" into a complex, fully realized person, but by god they did. And don't even get me started on Rocket. He nearly runs away with the film, not only in his Han Solo-Chewbacca dynamic with Groot but as the team's comic relief as well. The best part, though, is that he is never a cartoon character. A scene where a drunken Rocket bemoans how people treat him and his wish to have never been experimented on is heartbreaking. He is by far the film's best character, a marvel (no pun intended) of CGI, voice work, and superior writing.

The team is rounded out by Dave Bautista's Drax and Zoe Saldana's Gamora. These two are definitely the more straight-laced of the group, but while Gamora's hardened warrior never really gets a chance to shine character-wise, Drax is a pleasant surprise. His inability to understand metaphors means everything he says is literal, which makes for a hilarious running gag and some surprisingly heartfelt moments. There's no doubt, though, that together these wayward Guardians make for an incredible team, with their chemistry the beating heart of the film.

And really, it's the passion and heart that makes this film so great. But while this film wears its heart on its sleeve with pride, there are some niggling flaws that could be improved. If our heroes are the film's greatest strength, its villains are the weakness. I can't fault the performances, as Lee Pace's Ronan, Karen Gillian's Nebula, and Djimon Hounsou's Korath are all imposing and evil to the core. Their designs are perfection, their scenes are great, and they're all endowed with genuine menace. The problem is they aren't given enough screen time to breath.

While Ronan's religious fanaticism is a great motive and puts him a notch above the worst MCU villains like Malekith, he isn't explored enough to be truly effective. Nebula's sister relationship with Gamora should have been explored more, but they only get two short scenes to play off each other. Poor Korath is barely there, but makes use of what little time he does have. Ditto for the supporting players, like Glenn Close's Nova Prime and John C. Reilley's Rhomann Dey. Michael Rooker is a blast as Quill's adoptive father Yondu; his only crime is not being around enough. The real crime is under-using Benicio Del Toro as the Collector, who despite providing key exposition is in the film for under five minutes.

The big takeaway from these actors though is that each one manages to be memorable with what little screen time they have. They're really there to provide flavor to this universe and give more fodder for the Guardians to bounce off of. There's only one actor I didn't have a problem with in terms of screen time, despite having so little. Yes, we all knew it was coming. "Guardians" gives us our first clear look at the Mad Titan Thanos, along with a speaking part courtesy of Josh Brolin. And by god, he is PERFECT. The Emperor Palpatine to the film's "Empire Strikes Back", Brolin completely sells Thanos as the ultimate evil of the Marvel Universe. I can't wait for the Infinity Gauntlet to get here, so Thanos can appear in his full glory. This was just a tease, but it was more than enough to let you know that Thanos is out there and up to no good.

Speaking of the Gauntlet, that key exposition the Collector provides reveals more back story on the Infinity Stones. Our macguffin here is the Power Stone, contained in a metallic orb, and endowed with the ability to disintegrate any organic matter it touches. As a comic fan, it's a delight to have a third Stone pop up after the Tesseract and the Aether, but to casual film goers it may seem tiresome. Thank god Quill rattles on about the Orb's "Ark of the Covenant, Maltese Falcon" vibe. Self-awareness is the name of the game here, and the other key to the film's success. While there's an overwhelming emphasis on character here, the action and humor are always present.

I can't remember a blockbuster movie being this funny in years. The humor is oddball, to be sure, but director James Gunn is the perfect man to do it. Almost every joke is a winner, and makes for some of the best one-liners in a blockbuster film in a good long while. "You're making me kick grass", "Pelvic sorcery", and "Nothing goes over my head, my reflexes are too fast" are only some of the many instantly quotable lines to be found here. But the real humor lies in the dynamic between our characters, and the situations they find themselves in.

You'll find no RDJ improv or Cap/Thor fish-out-of-water jokes here. You'd think that Quill, being an Earthman (sorry, "Terran") would stick out, but he was raised in space, so he's just another space-faring citizen. Such organic humor makes the film hilarious, but the relentless onslaught of jokes also makes the quieter, more serious moments stand out. The aforementioned Rocket scene, Drax's heartfelt friend speech, Star-Lord taking command, and our last lines from Groot come to mind.

The tender mix of comedy and seriousness also plays into the action, which works with the pulpy, cartoon-ish tone but also gives off a sense of awe and wonder. The tone is really set by the music, all '70s hits from Peter's Walkman, that not only sell the overtly "Star Wars/Flash Gordon" vibe but also act as Quill's only remaining ties to Earth and his mother. You really get the sense that every joke, action scene, music montage, and character beat is planned out. There's a reason for everything, and seeing it all gel on screen is movie magic at its finest.

So as a movie, it's pretty much brilliant, even with a few flaws like underdeveloped villains. One could argue that the intense universe building is also a minor weakness, since the upbeat pacing never gives us a chance to breath and take in all the cosmic weirdness around us. But one could also argue (as I do) that the heartfelt tone, fresh character dynamics, and wholly organic humor makes up for it. Everything draws you in and makes for such a good time, that the few genuine flaws come off more as nitpicks than anything else. There is, after all, a confirmed sequel for 2017 that can iron out these few mistakes.

Besides Thanos and the Infinity Stone references, this film succeeds as a comic adaptation due to all the in-jokes for fans of Marvel Cosmic. Celestials. Kree. Sakaarans. The Nova Corps. Cameos from the Chitauri, Dark Elves, Cosmo the Space Dog, and (in a credits scene that came out of nowhere) Howard the Duck. All add to the rich flavor of this unique universe, and do more to set up potential MCU films than most of the other standalone movies. Ironically enough, besides the Thanos and Infinity threads, this film is actually the most standalone out of all the other MCU additions since the original "Iron Man".

Its cosmic setting and focus means the central story and characters come first. It just so happens that the playground here is so vast that it probably sets up twelve other films as an added bonus. It's a brilliant move, solidifying "Guardians" as one of the best films so far in the Disney/Marvel canon. The greatest triumph here, however, is that the premise and characters are so out there, and were pulled off with such success, that Marvel shouldn't be afraid to do anything now. In many ways this was a bigger risk than "Avengers", executing a D-List comic book property for a mainstream audience. And since this worked, it hails a landmark moment for the comic book genre.

It says that any property can be successful if brought to the screen with care and passion. And that's exactly what's happened here. If I were to rank "Guardians of the Galaxy", it'd probably tie with "Winter Soldier" as my fave standalone film, and is definitely one of the best up there with the original "Iron Man" and the first "Avengers". In one fell stroke, "Guardians" has laid the foundation for all things cosmic in the MCU, making this universe a whole lot bigger. The thoughts on where Marvel can go from here are mind-blowing. But what's really mind-blowing isn't just the future, but what we have right now. "Guardians of the Galaxy" is a triumph, and should be hailed as such. Gear up for 2017, people. I'm already drooling over what potential songs will be on Awesome Mix Volume 2.

The Legend of the Batman: 75 Years in the Making

Another year, another Comic-Con come and gone. And with it, many huge announcements about many nerdy things. One of which, to everyone's delight, was the first footage for "Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice", including Batman and Superman facing off and the first photo of Gal Gadot's Wonder Woman. I'd love to say that a more surprising revelation occurred at the convention. But we didn't really get anything we didn't already know or could guess ourselves.

The Batman/Superman panel was the biggest thing to a surprise we got. But what a surprise it was. Batman's wearing "Dark Knight Returns" style armor! He and Superman are definitely going at it! Wonder Woman looks fantastic! Quite simply, we nerds went nuts. But more than just nerds went gaga over the footage. It seems the entire Internet broke in half over this. Even with footage from Avengers 2 premiering, the big talk was about the Batman/Superman film. This got me thinking, which got me ranting. Batman turns 75 this year in the comic books, an event that's being celebrated the world over. More than any other super hero, Batman has grafted himself into the very center of our popular culture.

He has almost a dozen live action films, several animated shows and movies, some incredibly popular video games, and a rouges gallery of villains just as popular (if not more so) than he is. Batman is more than just a man. He's a full-blown phenomenon. And then that got me thinking about a little film called "The Dark Knight Rises." I've analyzed it before, of course. In the two years since its release, who hasn't? But with the Bat's 75th anniversary approaching, it felt like as good a time as ever to revisit the film. A film many praised upon release, and then almost immediately decried as being inferior to its predecessors.

In many ways, "Rises" is indeed the weak link of Chris Nolan's "Dark Knight" trilogy. The eight year time gap means half the plot points are set up by exposition, violating the film medium's sacred "show, don't tell" rule. There are several leaps in logic in the film itself, defying the realism of the last two movies. And while the epic, ambitious scope is to be admired, the wealth of characters makes it hard sometimes to narrow the film's focus. These are problems only several repeat viewings turn up, as on the surface "Rises" is still an entertaining experience. Entertaining, yes, but flawed as well.

But unlike "Spider-Man 3" or "X-Men: The Last Stand", this third chapter feels like an integral part of the series, and doesn't dishonor what came before. And upon my latest viewing, a thought occurred to me that completely changed my outlook on the film. A thought that, funnily enough, coincided with Batman's 75th anniversary, which feeds into what WB is doing with the Bats/Supes crossover. In order for this thought to make sense, a little background is in order. And don't worry, I won't take up ten paragraphs explaining it.

There are a lot of people who theorize that superheroes are a modern mythology. Our modern day heroes have taken the place of the Greek gods and demigods we once idolized in eons past. Just look at the parallels between the stories of Moses and Jesus compared to Superman, and you'll see there's some justification here. But while Superman may have the most mythic of backgrounds (and indeed, his has been built into a sort of American mythology), Batman's enduring popularity has given him a greater opportunity to become a modern legend. That derives from the fact that, unlike most other heroes, Batman is 100% mortal.

Joseph Campbell's monomyth, or Hero's Journey, outlines a basic story that all mythic heroes go on. Moses, Jesus, Osiris, Odysseus, Achilles, Perseus-all of them go on this basic hero's quest. They start from humble beginnings but have a part of the divine in them. They have an interesting relationship with their fathers, who are often absent yet come to define them. They go on a great quest, often of a spiritual nature, that involves slaying, taming, or resisting literal or symbolic monsters. In order to do so, they must confront some form of innate evil, descending into the underworld and reaching their lowest point. They will then emerge triumphantly from this trial, obtain a form of divine wisdom, and return to save their world, becoming a true hero.

The reason this basic quest is so fundamentally effective is because it outlines a sort of wish fulfillment we all want to achieve. We want to believe we have some sort of innate power, that will allow us to conquer the demons we all have and save those we love. All these heroes posses those traits, but what makes them so great is that, despite their superhuman natures, they are all innately human. While Superman often has this mythic aspect due to his human upbringing, modern society often focuses on his alien heritage and powers, saying no one can relate to him.

Batman, on the other hand, despite his billionaire status, saw his parents gunned down from a young age (a very real fear) and sought to master his rage by becoming fear personified. He's a self-made man, with abilities born from physical and mental training. It's no wonder he's more popular and relatable in our cultural mindset. So on a fundamental level, Batman fits the criteria of the Hero's Journey better, since he's a man who goes on a great quest to become more than human to defeat his opponents. It's about a man so dedicated to an ideal that he becomes superhuman, despite his still present mortality.

It is this aspect that Chris Nolan's "Dark Knight" trilogy captures so well. "Batman Begins" captures the essence of the Hero's Journey, with Bruce leaving Gotham, questing to gain knowledge, and returning to save his city. "The Dark Knight" continues that theme by showing Batman's rise to become a demonic figure to the mob, even inspiring imitators. But it is "The Dark Knight Rises" that cements Batman's legendary in-universe status. And by doing so, celebrates Batman's iconic standing in popular culture, both in the past and future.

Think about the film's plot for a minute. Bruce begins the film a crippled shut-in. Batman has been vilified by Gotham City, while Harvey Dent made a martyr. Bane comes in as this mythic figure, spouting "no one cared who I was until I put on the mask", and talking of how he was born and molded in darkness. Bruce tries becoming Batman again, hoping to recapture his legendary status, but secretly wishing for death as he is without a true purpose. Then Bane utterly breaks him, stuffs him in a literal pit, and proceeds to dismantle all of Batman's good work by demystifying the legend of Harvey Dent, exposing his corruption.

So as we begin the film, Batman is made profoundly mortal while Bane and a post-mortem Harvey Dent are like modern myths. But over the course of the film, Dent is brought down to humanity again thanks to Bane, who also cripples Bruce to utterly remind him of his mortality. Bruce then rebuilds himself in prison, learning of Bane's mythic origins, and then ascends the Pit and returns to Gotham to save it. This is 100% Joseph Campbell in its execution, building Bruce back up from a man to a myth. It also fulfills the promise of "Batman Begins", where Ras Al Ghul told Bruce he'd become legend if he devoted himself to an ideal.

Bruce returns to Gotham, now fully Batman again, and utterly destroys Bane. He damages Bane's mask, exposing him to pain, and giving him a weakness. With this, Bane can now taste the mortality he gave Bruce. He is simply a man, not a myth. And then Talia comes in, revealing Bane never climbed out of the Pit. Many fans hated this revelation, as it removed Bane's "cool" factor and seemingly made him subservient. First of all, Bane's final actions defied Talia's direct orders, meaning he was never a lackey.

Second of all, Bane's demystification is the entire point. As Bruce ascends from man to myth, Bane is knocked down from myth to man. He's made a mortal with mortal feelings, in this case love for Talia. And once he's defeated by Batman and his myth unmade, he's rendered fully mortal. Cue Catwoman and her mounted guns, to give Bane a swift end after he's served his purpose. Anti-climactic? Maybe. But earned nonetheless, especially since Bane's ultimate demise came at the hands of the very woman who betrayed Bruce to him.

And then we approach the end of the film, where Batman cements his own mythic status by sacrificing himself for Gotham. As Batman dies, Bruce gets to live, emerging once again as a man who can now find peace. But Bruce can only emerge a man because he's fulfilled his purpose with Batman. He's made him an undying symbol, a concept that's larger than life. He's become a true mythical figure. Don't believe me? Explain the statue immortalizing Batman, followed by Robin taking up the mantle at the end. That entire sequence wasn't a direct sequel set-up. It was signifying that Batman is now an idea, that can transcend one man because it's larger than that now.

As if that wasn't enough, think about all the apparent logic gaps people like to complain about. The back-healing rope. The flaming Bat symbol on the bridge. Bruce's mysterious re-entry into Gotham. His survival of the bomb blast. All these actions only succeed in cementing Batman's status as a mythic figure. Just listen to those actions and tell me that's not something a mythical hero would do. Or better yet, a comic book hero. Because despite the Nolan series' penchant for realism, what Nolan is doing here is ditching the logic for mythology building.

The eight year time gap, despite a new reliance on exposition, is key to this. It allows for a new generation to grow up seeing Batman as a legend, personified in Robin John Blake, who is ultimately chosen to carry that legend forward. All those logic gaps may piss people off, but it only serves to cement that Batman is now a mysterious, mythical, god-like figure who can achieve the impossible. In other words, you know that persistent meme that Batman can do anything just because "he's Batman"? Well, "Rises" is just creating a situation where that's true. Bane's takeover of Gotham leaves the people so desperate, they need a mythic figure to save them. Batman is that figure, and save them he does.

But the real key here is that ending, where Robin takes over the mantle of the Bat. This is actually where Nolan got meta, in the best way imaginable. That final scene is Nolan stating that Batman comes in many forms, with many faces. How many actors have stepped behind the cowl? Between Adam West, Michael Keaton, George Clooney, and the voice of Kevin Conroy, a fair few. And as we now know, the legacy will continue, good or bad, with Ben Affleck. And even if Affleck is terrible, the history of the Bat proves he will survive, and return in a new form, as all myths do.

The ending of "The Dark Knight Rises" proved both in-universe and in a meta sense that Batman will always survive. He has 75 years worth of comic books, games, shows, and movies to prove it, all with different tones, styles, and even characters. But if the revelation of "Rises" wasn't enough to cement Batman's mythic status in our culture, the upcoming "Batman v. Superman" film definitely will. The Comic-Con teaser showed an armored Batman lighting the Bat-signal on a stormy night. The signal illuminates a flying Superman, who turns on his heat vision to begin their fight. More than anything, this footage shows Batman as a mythic figure because he now has the means to take on a literal demigod.

As I've said before, Superman has his roots in Judeo-Christian myths, and the latest film, "Man of Steel", tried to emphasize this mythological subtext. But "Man of Steel" failed where "The Dark Knight" trilogy succeeded because it didn't emphasize its protagonist's human core. Clark Kent's entire human upbringing was glossed over in flashbacks, whereas his Kryptonian background was given a 20 minute opening prologue. Zach Snyder tried to make us care for Clark when he had him kill Zod to protect a human family.

Obviously the intention was to show Clark putting his adopted race over his mother race. But if the Zod fight just destroyed a city, and Clark made no attempt to even show concern, can we really buy he's on our side? Snyder was so focused on making Superman's powers and alien background cool that he forgot it's the human side of him that gives him his power. He realized it too late, and forgot to reinforce it. Thus while both MoS and TDK focused on their hero's legendary status, "Rises" succeeded by showing Bruce's human failings, while "Man of Steel" did not. Nolan gave us the man so when he was made a myth, it was earned. Snyder tried giving us the myth we all wanted, but without showing us the man first, it felt hollow.

So how can this be corrected in the sequel? Well, if you want to truly mystify Superman, you have to do the same thing that Nolan did to Batman. And I don't mean make his mythos dark and gritty. I mean focus on the human element first, for in that lies the key to creating a myth. Mythic heroes come from emphasizing their humanity, so people can root for them when they do something heroic. Now that Superman (in-universe and in a meta context) is hated for the Zod fight, Batman will come in to knock him down a peg. To prove gods can bleed. A mortal going against an immortal, to prove he can be hurt. That's the stuff that myths are made of.

Now that "Rises" proved and celebrated Batman's mythic status, "BvS" will cement it and further it by having these two titans of comic book culture square off. In doing so, Batman will show he's worthy of being superhuman despite his mortality, while Superman will prove his own humanity despite his alien gifts. As for Wonder Woman and the inevitable Justice League? Diana literally comes from Greek mythology. She'll be there to help Superman and Batman form a modern Greek pantheon, that being the League. And with Batman proving his worth to this pantheon, he'll be made a literal demigod, proving without a doubt his new mythic status.

If done right, "BvS" will not only continue elevating Batman's mythos, but prove DC characters in general are worthy of their god-like status as well, in more ways than just showing off their powers. But even if the film fails, we at least know that Batman himself will endure. He's endured for 75 years, and will continue to do so. The comics proved that. The films have now proved that. And the legacy of the Bat will still prove it, another 75 years from now and for decades thereafter.

Comics To Film: The Downside of Synergy

San Diego Comic Con 2014 is only one week away. And yet, this past week has seen a huge upsurge in comic book news. News that's come through the most unlikely of avenues. If I told you ten years ago that major comic and comic movie news would come through The View, the Colbert Report, and Entertainment Weekly, you'd probably haul me away in a straight jacket. And yet this week alone, we not only got our first official photos and plot points for Avengers: Age of Ultron, but major comic announcements that Thor will now be a woman and the Falcon will become the new Captain America.

Now keep in mind, shake-ups to the status quo happen in mainstream comics all the time. In fact, they happen pretty much every few months, as a way to gain new readers. But what's so perplexing about these latest announcements are that Marvel, and their parent company Disney, are using major talk shows to break the news. That means they want an audience, one that spreads far beyond your typical Tuesday afternoon comic shop crowd. In short: Disney/Marvel want casual readers and moviegoers to pay attention to these new developments. But what's the point, especially since we know these changes won't last in the long run? The point, true believers, is that there's an ulterior motive here.

Let's consider what we know about the current state of the Marvel and DC films and their comic book counterparts. DC rebooted their entire line up a few years back with the New 52, creating changes not only to superhero costumes but their personal histories as well. Compare Henry Cavill's Man of Steel suit to the Superman suit from the New 52. Then take into account how the direct-to-DVD animated films DC are making are now adapting New 52 story arcs (Justice League War and the upcoming Throne of Atlantis). Look at the few real announcements we know about Batman v. Superman, and you'll see how Cyborg and Aquaman, two of the founding New 52 Justice Leaguers, are set to appear. From where I'm standing, it sounds like DC's New 52 reboot was a way to streamline their continuity, not so much for new readers, but to have a readily available source to draw from for animated and live action films.

But that's nothing compared to the synergy between Marvel films and comics, since no one can question they pretty much run the superhero film genre right now. The Spider-Man comics had a year long arc where arch foe Doctor Octopus swapped brains with Peter Parker, taking over his body. While there was a fan outcry at first, readers generally warmed up to Spider-Ock and found some of the best told Spider-Man comics in years. Then when The Amazing Spider-Man 2 hit theaters, Peter got his body back. Coincidence? More like an attempt to create synergy with the films to draw in new readers. Peter even fights Electro upon returning, with the villain now revamped to look like his film counterpart.

Then we have the X-Men and Fantastic Four. Several websites have run a rumor that Marvel is "disowning" the FF due to their rivalry with Fox. While this doesn't make sense from a business standpoint, we do know that the Fantastic Four books are being cancelled in favor of properties that Disney can directly adapt. Look at the image at the top of the page, and you'll find no Fantastic Four anywhere (no, the flaming guy is not the Human Torch). We don't even see fan favorite Wolverine. That could have something to do with Marvel's heavily publicized Death of Wolverine story arc, which is posed to finally kill off the character.

Barring the fact that this probably won't last long (what superhero death ever does?), this not only removes Logan from Marvel's roster for a while, but conveniently provides a story that Fox could potentially adapt into their X-Men films. Face it, Hugh Jackman won't be around forever. He's already played the character seven times, and is poised to do it again for another X film and solo Wolverine film. Could Wolverine 3 adapt this Death story, to write Jackman out of the pictures? It's a strong possibility.

And while this move on Marvel's part doesn't really impact what Fox does creatively with X-Men and FF, it seems like Disney is strategically positioning the characters it owns film rights to in favor of those it doesn't. Spider-Man is the exception, since Spidey is still the face of Marvel and Disney has a favorable relationship with Sony. Marvel's upcoming comic event Spider-Verse unites every version of Spidey from parallel dimensions. Sony could end up using this in future films if they are indeed putting their Spidey series in limbo, after ASM2's under performance. Opening up multiple Spider-Men would be an easy way to recast and reboot the character on film, while not exactly disavowing what came before.

So if Marvel is indeed pushing X-Men and FF aside in favor of their other characters, then this new initiative exists to give consumers a taste of what's coming in the films. Why else use the View, Colbert, and Entertainment Weekly to highly publicize changes to the comic book canon? The fact of the matter is, MCU mainstays like Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans, and Chris Hemsworth won't be around forever. If the franchise is to continue without them but keep their continuity going forward, others must take up the mantle. So how do you reboot Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor without actually rebooting them? Well, if you've highly publicized that comics Thor will now be a woman, and Cap will now be Falcon (just introduced in the Winter Soldier film) then it's easy to assume these characters are being pitched as replacements for the films.

As for the still Tony Stark Iron Man? The upcoming Superior Iron Man comics mention Tony will be going in a darker, more cynical direction. That doesn't sound like somewhere RDJ would like to go, should he continue playing the character. And yet, in Entertainment Weekly's Age of Ultron scoop, they mention how Ultron is the corrupted leader of Tony's Iron Legion drone army. Ultron has a personality modeled after Stark's, specifically his cynicism. Could the events of Age of Ultron lead Tony on a path to becoming the Superior Iron Man they're now pushing in the comics? I don't want to say "never", but given the amount of publicity, it could very well happen.

"But wait!" you cry. "Isn't this all just circumstantial? Where's the real proof?" Well, look again at the top image. What do you notice? Aside from the changes to the Big 3, we have Winter Soldier and Deathlok, both inducted into the MCU this year. Then we have Scarlet Witch, Doctor Strange, and Ant-Man, all set to make their cinematic debuts in the next few years. That leaves Angela, Thor's new sister, and the Inhumans Medusa and Inferno. The Inhumans are heavily rumored to be a property the MCU wants to adapt, and given their cosmic ties and the ongoing Thanos arc, they could easily squeeze their way into one of the now six empty slots in the Phase 3 release schedule. And if Angela is getting this much exposure, she could find her way into a new Thor film, maybe as a way to shake up the Thor/Loki dynamic. Also, keep in mind that should FemThor and FalconCap catch on, it would expand the MCU's diversity, drawing in an even wider film-going audience.

So it seems that mainstream comics now exist to provide synergy with their films. Why is that a big deal? People always seem to get angry at bad adaptations. But good or bad, the people making these adaptations realize they're drawing from a different medium. In this case, comic books. And while comics and films thrive off visuals, their mediums are still different. Films are meant, in their most basic function, to be mainstream, so they can entertain a wide audience. Comics may have a stigma of only catering to teenage boys, but the best can deliver sophisticated stories that are specifically anti-mainstream. There's a reason that some of the greatest comic stories ever made came from the counterculture movement of the '60s and '70s, at a time when mainstream media (like the Adam West Batman TV show) was largely schlock catering to the masses.

Comic book adaptations started getting good when filmmakers saw the innovative stories comics were willing to publish. Stories some film producers wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. Recall the decade long battle to get a dark and gothic Batman film made, after mainstream culture had written the character off as campy due to Adam West. None of them read the then current Batman comics, where Frank Miller's Year One and Dark Knight Returns made him a dark avenger of the night. Those comics inspired the tone of Tim Burton's first Batman film, and then years later, the story of Chris Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy.

Comics have always been at their best when they go against the grain, and if the stories are written well enough and become popular, Hollywood will come knocking. The problem now is that since comics and comic fandom has entered the cultural zeitgeist, comics (at least the mainstream Marvel and DC) don't get opportunities to tell innovative stories anymore. Comics have gone from anti-mainstream to mainstream itself, all because of the popularity of the movies. So to cater to that mainstream audience, publishers are using comics as either tie-ins or pitches for adaptations.

Now I admit, sometimes a popular adaptation can be a boon to comics. Look at the exposure the D-List Guardians of the Galaxy title is getting now. Look at the upcoming animated Big Hero 6 movie. Remember what Robert Downey Jr. did for Iron Man, or how Bruce Timm and Paul Dini canonized Harley Quinn, a creation for an animated Batman show. But while that's all well and good, the sheer wealth of superhero films means the very concept has now transcended the comic medium. It's now a film genre, one that's bringing in millions at a time. So to keep the film genre going, comics are tying in, hoping for more exposure and more readership. While I understand this need, especially from a business standpoint, it's not going to help comics grow as a medium.

Like I said before, films and comics are two entirely different mediums of entertainment. And as such, they play by different rules. These rules may constrict both mediums at times, but they give each one their own distinct identity. To force the rules of cinema on a print medium like comics will only limit them, not find them more exposure. You can look at making Thor a woman or Captain America black as a risk, but it's a gimmick meant for increased readership, not an innovative story. As controversial as the Spider-Man/Doc Ock swap was, that was an interesting, comic-based story that allowed the franchise to explore brand new territory. And it wasn't meant as a movie tie-in, given that the minute a new film came out, the series reverted to status quo.

It's not wrong to make comics that cater to a wide audience. But that doesn't mean their stories should exist only as gimmicks. Because while retailers might sell a lot of first issues, casual fans won't suddenly become hard core comic geeks. They go to the movies or watch the shows for a superhero fix. Wikipedia will fill in the gaps if they're that curious about the source. History has proven that comics thrive when the mainstream isn't paying attention to them.

We look at how Netflix and HBO have given birth to niche audiences for unique genre shows. Comics work the same way. It's great to have comics accepted and embraced by the mainstream, but once they start catering to just casual fans instead of real comics fans, the stories wind up short. Comics may exist to sell, but if, like movies, they're treated as merely products, then they'll suffer from the same creative drought everyone believes Hollywood is currently stuck in.

Just look at the comics of the '90s, with their shiny variant covers and uber-violent pandering to the grunge era. The Death of Superman arc makes news headlines, everyone thinks comics can sell to casual audiences, and then the industry nearly goes bankrupt. Before you know it Marvel has to sell their characters' film rights to keep themselves afloat, and you have the situation we're in now where we can't have a true Marvel Cinematic Universe. The point is, no one benefits when publishers try to make comics appealing to the lowest common denominator. The superhero genre may have gone mainstream, but the comics medium itself is still for a niche audience. Making announcements on the View will not change that.

Now does this mean I think comics should only cater to uber nerds? Far from it. As I've said, comics provide a medium where a lot of sophisticated stories can be told, for anyone of any age group. And if a publisher wants to heavily promote a comic they think is a game changer, I say full speed ahead. I applaud attempts to introduce casual fans to the wonders of comics. I myself got into them through the movies, with Sam Raimi and Chris Nolan showing me the wonders of Spider-Man and Batman.

But a good comic should stand on its own, and be appealing enough that casual and long-time readers can get into it. A good story has that power. A story made as a marketing gimmick, solely to tie in to a popular film, doesn't have that effect. And that doesn't mean licensed comics, like Dark Horse's Star Wars books, are complete crap too. It just means the best comics should focus simply on good storytelling, instead of specifically manufacturing books for an audience that probably won't even care to read them.

Comic adaptations may be the "it" genre right now, but they won't be forever. They'll fade just as any other genre has. But the comics themselves will go on, and keep finding new ways to push storytelling forward with its unique medium. This year's 75th anniversary for Batman comics is proof of that. Synergy between comics and film can be a wonderful thing, but it can also lead to ruin for one or both mediums. But if nothing else, at least we get San Diego Comic Con out of it next week.

Consider the Fourquel

Independence Day may have come and gone, but Fourth of July weekend continues. So in honor of all things "four", I'm asking myself a grueling question. Why oh why do movie four-quels suck? Let's backtrack for a bit. Many moons ago, I made a three-part rant about film trilogies. Specifically, the studio obsession with making them. Studios seem to love the number 3. So what on God's green Earth would ever possess them to make a fourth? Most trilogy closers aren't even done right, and yet filmmakers add more on anyway.

In my past rant, I did talk about franchises going beyond trilogies. I talked of the filmmakers thinking, for whatever reason, that their series still had potential for further stories. Ultimately, that's the reasoning behind most four-quels (besides the obvious money). I'm not here to talk about exactly WHY four-quels are made, so much as HOW. And by that I mean, how does one approach a fourth chapter in a film series? To be honest, there's no right way to do a four-quel. There are plenty of wrong ways, as history's proven. Exactly why is that? What is it about trying to execute a fourth chapter that almost universally leads to suckage? If we look at the four-quels we actually have, we may find the answer.

Now when I say "four-quel", I don't necessarily mean it's the fourth film in the series chronologically. I'm talking the fourth film released, meaning reboots and prequels aren't off the table. This is important to understand, because it's key to the thinking that goes into four-quels. Even when a four-quel is a sequel to prior films, it functions similarly to a soft reboot. That is the key to most four-quels sucking. Still don't follow? Allow me to explain.

Consider the trilogy. As outlined in my three-part rant, there's something appealing about franchises that come in 3 to filmmakers. It ultimately comes down to the fact that a good trilogy functions as one long movie. The reason for this is because individual films often have a three-act structure. Act One introduces the characters and the world. Act Two puts the characters in some kind of conflict. Act Three resolves the conflict and shows the characters going through a profound change.

If one approaches a trilogy like one long movie, then each film is like one of three acts. Hence, Movie One is the intro, Movie Two the rising conflict, and Movie Three the climax/conclusion. It's appealing to studios because it allows maximum franchise potential while (if done correctly) providing emotional heft. The three act structure as outlined is like a simplified form of Joseph Campbell's Hero's Journey, a theory where all myths and legends can be boiled down to a basic formula. It's reused so much because it appeals to our basic human nature, to undergo a challenge and emerge the better for it. This is why trilogies like Lord of the Rings and the original Star Wars are so powerful, because they tell a basic hero's journey over the natural course of three films.

So, by the end of part 3, we have an airtight conclusion to our conflict. Audiences feel they've gone on this great journey with these characters, and have gotten a proper goodbye. But because everyone's gone to see the finale, studios look at the money rolling in and decide a fourth film is "required". Except that in terms of story, it often isn't. This is because the story naturally came to an end in part 3. Or even worse, a standalone story was stretched into a trilogy, and by the end it's been creatively milked to near-death (cough cough *Matrix/Pirates* cough). If a trilogy is a single entity told in three parts, then if a fourth film is attempted, it's the equivalent of making a follow-up after a logical conclusion.

It's why most people feel a fourth film is when a franchise "milks it" or "jumps the shark". Or, in Indiana Jones's case, "nukes the fridge." A fourth film isn't natural, often an unnecessary add-on to an already great (or at least semi-decent) trilogy. Filmmakers are often aware of this, so they come up with multiple options. Option one: your "trilogy" is really a series of loosely connected standalone stories. As such, it's relatively easy to make a fourth film that's a direct sequel, because the series doesn't have an over-arcing narrative.

Examples include Lethal Weapon, Shrek, Jaws, the original Superman and Batman films, Rambo, Indiana Jones, and any horror franchise ever made. The problem here is that a loosely connected film series often adheres to a story formula. Indy goes after a magical artifact. John McClane fights terrorists in X location. After four films this formula gets tired, especially since each film often expands said formula.

Think of the backlash to the nuked fridge in Indy. After rolling boulders, crashing planes, and falling tanks, Spielberg tops this basic formula by having Indy survive a nuke inside a lead-lined fridge. The basic formula, in an attempt to top itself, has gotten so silly it alienates the audience. As such, no one can get into it. For a more recent example, see Transformers: Age of Extinction, although that gets into another four-quel option.

This option follows a trilogy with an over-arcing narrative, ending with part 3. So for part 4, the filmmakers try to justify its existence by engineering a brand new story arc, often to start a new (what else?) trilogy. Filmmakers love the trilogy structure so much that if more films are made, they'll often either come as a trilogy or with the intention of making one. Examples include the aforementioned Age of Extinction, The Bourne Legacy, Alien: Resurrection, Terminator: Salvation, X-Men Origins: Wolverine, Pirates 4, Star Wars Episode I, and The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.

Star Wars and the Hobbit managed to spark actual trilogies, and Transformers 4 likely will as well. Pirates has yet to be seen, but could happen. Alien continued and Terminator will, but not as direct follow-ups. This is because the new arcs were too different, alienating the core audience with a cloned Ripley, future Skynet war, or a Bourne film without Bourne. So while the franchise is profitable enough to continue, the series will now go in a different direction. See how Wolverine Origins was so bad that the franchise was retooled afterwards into First Class, followed soon after by a proper solo Wolverine flick.

Star Wars and Hobbit managed to succeed due to the strength of their franchises. However, it's telling that their follow-up arcs were NOT direct continuations of the original trilogies. They were instead prequels, with arcs that lead directly into their predecessors. Star Wars is planning to buck the trend with a new trilogy coming out soon, but even that will have a new story arc and new characters to focus on. Often when a new follow-up arc is made, it will either scale back the budget to be more affordable (Pirates 4) or blow up the budget to outdo part 3 (Transformers 4). This will either give the new arc lower stakes and thus not seem as important, or make the stakes so high there's no human connection (again, Pirates vs. Transformers).

This is why most four-quels often become prequels. It allows filmmakers to work around the problem by literally going back to the beginning, or focus on new characters with new problems. But unless those characters are as compelling as the original crew, people won't care for them. See the Star Wars prequels for proof. The prequels also show that just because it's set chronologically earlier, there's still a temptation to make the stakes "bigger". As such, the lightsaber battles go from tense duels in closed quarters to wide open, acrobatic set pieces (compare the Vader duels in V and VI to the Darth Maul duel in I).

So, knowing this, some filmmakers decide that it's toxic to even attempt another film in that canon, sequel or prequel. This is where we get the reboot. Amazing Spider-Man, this year's Robocop, and the upcoming Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice are the best examples here. After a conclusive trilogy, filmmakers decided the character's next film appearance will be a reboot, because a sequel'd be too anti-climactic and a prequel unappealing. Thus while it's technically the fourth film in the franchise, it's not a true four-quel. This can either work wonders or backfire heavily. But if a franchise must continue, odds are a reboot will do better at injecting new life into it, while keeping the original trilogy standalone for those purists out there.

This however begs the question: "can an in-canon four-quel actually succeed?" It doesn't happen very often, but it can. And this is where our final four-quel options come in. Either the films are serialized enough that the formula won't tire out, or there's an over-arcing narrative that naturally extends beyond a trilogy. What do I mean by this? Think about Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol, Live Free or Die Hard, Rocky IV, 007 Thunderball, Fast & Furious, Star Trek IV, and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

The majority of those films were part of series that didn't have over-arcing stories. Their success lay in their formula, which was so popular it kept people coming back in droves. Thus, unlike other in-canon four-quels, these films can adhere to formula without tiring out . But at this point, the series either had to refresh the formula and make it seem new again (M: I: IV, Star Trek IV), or offer entries that started an over-arcing plot (Fast and Furious). Bond is the exception, since it has the magic formula that keeps people coming back even 50 years later.

Harry Potter is the case of an over-arcing plot that goes beyond a trilogy, so part 4 is simply the next chapter rather than an unnecessary entry. It works for Harry, but only because it's based on literature. Most Hollywood sagas begin as trilogies. And for most of them, they stay trilogies until years later. Notice for Die Hard's case (and Rambo, Indy, Star Wars, and The Hobbit) the four-quel came at least a decade after the original trilogy ended, to build up demand for a follow-up entry. This is the case for next year's Jurassic World and Mad Max: Fury Road. Like the in-canon four-quels I've mentioned, they too are trying to set off a new story arc, bolstered by an entirely new cast. But because it's years later, the formula that seemed tired is now heavily missed, enough to send people flocking to theaters for part 4.

While an in-canon four-quel can work, it often doesn't. This is because, as I've stated, the four-quel either continues a now stale formula or starts an entirely different, often anti-climactic story arc. Four-quels are often made entirely for money, which is apparent in the way filmmakers construct them. Creative success comes from either embracing or refreshing the formula so it's not stale, or building a new, organic story arc that actually works. It's a lot harder than it looks, mostly because of Hollywood's trilogy obsession. And too often, successful trilogies breed terrible four-quels. There are some franchises that I'd love to see further adventures from. But until Hollywood knows how to get four-quels right, films are better off in threes.

Spark of Hope: A Love/Hate Review of the Transformers Saga

Here's the thing about Michael Bay's "Transformers" films. From a pure film-making standpoint, they're terrible. Absolutely terrible. I have no allusions of these films being anything else. They are, after all, based on a line of toys, and thus exist only as marketing tools. And they're very, very good at that. So good, in fact, that when I first saw these films, I too bought into the hype. I was too old to rush out and buy the toys, yes, but I felt like a kid in spirit when I watched them.

So reviewing these films, especially the latest, "Age of Extinction", is actually harder than it might seem. Not too hard, mind you. Like I said, I can easily pick apart any of these films based on narrative, character development, etc. etc. But there's something about seeing giant robots beat the living piss out of each other that's just fun to watch. Regardless of the paper thin characters, heavy handed racism, and not-even-trying-to-be-subtle product placement. In a way, these films are like cinematic junk food: they satisfy a basic instinct, but in the long run don't offer any sustenance.

I wanted to get this out of the way because it's only by going in knowing this can one actually analyze these films. On a base level, each of these films, (yes, even "Fallen") satisfy a basic urge. The urge for sex, violence, and wanton destruction. We all have this urge, don't deny it. And despite what we say, we love seeing it onscreen. But there's a difference between indulging this urge for a little while and feeding it to the point where it's just too much. Ultimately, that's what these films do. They satisfy this urge well, but perhaps TOO well. There was a time when my adolescent brain didn't realize "enough was enough" regarding these films. I've come to a realization after seeing "Extinction", but for that to have any weight, my thoughts on the other films must be expressed.

Let's start at the beginning. As a '90s kid, my first exposure to the Transformers franchise was the CGI "Beast Wars" cartoon. Nostalgic, to be sure, but it never really hooked me personally. I had a few Transformers lying around the house in my youth, but never much took to the concept. I just didn't see how alien robots turning into cars was all that believable, or even that appealing. When the first film was announced, I waited until it hit DVD to check it out.

My initial reaction? Why the hell didn't I see this in theaters. The first "Transformers" film floored me. I already knew who Optimus and Megatron were, and the basic Autobot/Decepticon war, but what the film did so well for me was make it actually seem plausible. The All-Spark explained the "transforming alien robot" thing really well. The robots were imposing and looked unbelievably cool. The transformations were the best part, and simply a marvel of special effects.

My all time favorite moment, however, had to be the arrival of the Autobots. The effects, the score, the build-up, everything was just so cinematic I couldn't help but get caught up in it. And despite me not originally favoring the franchise, I'd be hard pressed to say I didn't geek out after seeing a living '80s pop culture icon like Optimus Prime come to life on the big screen.

The point of all this is, there was a magic to the first film. While directed by Michael Bay, the true driving force behind the original was Steven Spielberg, and it shows here. The whole "boy and his car" plot that ties the film together has a very Spielbergian element to it, specifically the silent bond between Sam and Bumblebee. While most G1 fans hated how the robots seemed like extras in their own movie, I actually think the humans justified their existence here by grounding the plot. The film was more about the humans discovering the Transformers and reacting accordingly, instead of the bots themselves.

But, enough of my gushing. These were my thoughts upon seeing the film for the first time. Repeat viewings made me see the flaws, which are really just par for the course for Mr. Bay. But while his "Bayisms" as I like to call them (jingoistic patriotism, discriminatory shots of women, underdeveloped characters, glaring plot holes, racist stereotypes, vulgar humor) are all present, the touch of Spielberg makes everything seem more down-to-earth. It has excess, to be sure, but just the right amount.

To this day I feel like the film is a perfect fusion of Bay and Spielberg's styles. It was needed, frankly, to sell such an inherently stupid concept to non-fans like me. And I'm not gonna lie, it worked. That sense of awe at seeing these giant robots for the first time outweighs any flaws this film has to me. It's not perfect, not by a long shot. But as far as solid popcorn entertainment goes, the first "Transformers" had it all.

So after witnessing magic in that first "Transformers" picture, I did what I do with every fandom I'm introduced to through a film version. That being research it heavily. A few wiki searches later, and the terms "G1", "Unicron", "Vector Sigma", "Soundwave", "The Matrix of Leadership", and "Dinobots" became all too familiar to me. I knew the sequel was coming soon, and I wanted to be ready. Hype went through the roof, and by the time "Revenge of the Fallen" was released, I couldn't contain my excitement.

Two and a half hours later, and I came out pretty satisfied at seeing Optimus fusing with a jetpack to take out a millennium year old Transformer. Except there was something off about this new film. Maybe it was how quickly Optimus defeated the Fallen. Or the lack of common sense in the plot. Or the pair of racist twin Autobots. Or the wrecking ball testicles they put on Devastator, one of the greatest Decepticons of the G1 fandom. Or, you know, basically everything about the film. It dawned on me pretty quickly that despite a few decent action scenes (Prime vs. three 'Cons in the forest, anyone?) the film was a colossal dud.

I realized it back then and I know it still today: "Revenge of the Fallen" is not only the worst "Transformers" film, but one of the worst blockbuster films of all time. I do not say this lightly. All of the Bayisms in the first film were multiplied exponentially here, with more vulgar humor, more racism, more Megan Fox oogling, more coming-of-age stereotypes passing off as character growth. The film was just WAY too excessive. I could overlook the flaws in the first film because I was generally wowed by the sight of giant robots. But now that the novelty's worn off, the Bayisms are really apparent here. Bay's influence definitely overtook Spielberg's here, and it shows. The movie speaks for itself. There's nothing else I can say that a million fans haven't already said. It's just a terrible movie.

Such a let down made me pretty cynical by the time the third film was announced. Like most people, I thought the series had peaked with the original, and now that we're all used to seeing giant robots, there's nowhere left for the franchise to go. But as I said before, these films satisfied a basic urge that was hard to find anywhere else. Like an addict, I went crawling back. Part of it was thinking it would end the series, for better or worse. Another part was half-hoping they'd actually improve on "Fallen" and restore the series' integrity. I was right on both accounts. Or at least half-right.

The third film was a huge improvement on "Fallen", but that's really not saying much. The vulgar humor didn't vanish, it just took place entirely in the first half, while the second half was a gritty, no holds barred action sequence that leveled Chicago. I actually got to visit the Chicago shooting, and it was just as chaotic as you might expect. If nothing else, there was a sense of satisfaction at seeing the film and knowing I was that close to everything. It did help, though, that the second half made up for all the Bayisms in the first half, delivering a widely entertaining action flick that also served as a decent series finale.

In many ways, the movie's still a piss poor example of proper narrative film-making. It was the first of the three films where I was actively analyzing it while watching, mostly due to my left over cynicism from the second film. But the final hour of action was so intense, I couldn't help but be won over by it. I guess I just wanted to feel the magic of the original film again, that I let myself be immersed in the sheer chaos of it all. The story really didn't improve, and Shia Labeouf went from likable to somewhat irritating to straight up annoying. But Megan Fox's replacement was a small improvement, as was Leonard Nimoy as the surprise villain. Ultimately, "Dark of the Moon" is a mixed bag of a film, equally horrendous and entertaining. But despite one hell of a finale that seemed to close everything off, it still can't beat the simple joy of the original.

And now, at last, we arrive at "Age of Extinction". A film I thought shouldn't exist when announced, but tempted me with its Mark Walberg and its Dinobots. Tiny elements to be sure, but enough to goad me back into theaters, hoping to see something that'd truly wow me four movies in. After "Dark of the Moon" killed off every major Decepticon, I figured there was nowhere left to go. I went to see this film out of curiosity. Exactly where do you go from here? But unlike, say, "How to Train Your Dragon 2" or "22 Jump Street", this film doesn't care for organically following its predecessors. Oh yes, it references the Chicago battle, and all the events come out of that, but it expects us to buy the government hunting Autobots after allying with them for three movies.

The new human cast does fine, especially the government baddies themselves. Walberg is definitely an improvement over Labeouf in terms of acting. But his arc with daughter Tessa and her race car driver boyfriend Shane just don't connect, no matter how hard Bay tries to make us think otherwise. It's somewhat made up for with more focus on the 'Bots themselves, especially Optimus's new found cynicism of humanity. It's funny, since that cynicism's exactly how I feel about this franchise now.

There's actually a meta-subtext running through the film about the necessity of the Transformers on Earth, and Optimus deciding whether to continue the good fight. That could have made for a riveting film, if Bay had actually followed through on such themes. New developments like alien bounty hunter Lockdown and talk of a "Creator" race are swept aside for another "Decepticons want ancient device to destroy humanity" plot. What's the point of setting up a new premise in the first half if you're just going to revert to formula in the second?

By then, the plot moves to Hong Kong for an action scene that's way too long, adding an extra 45 minutes to the run time when it clearly wasn't needed. The promise of Dinobots kept me going, but by the time they do show up, they only clutter an already busy finale, and ultimately contribute nothing to the climax. Instead, they only serve as a reminder of how Bay loves to indulge himself. Each "Transformers" film outdoes the last, and that continues here. Some of his signature Bayisms were toned down (there's less vulgar humor, for one) but his penchant for good 'splosions has only intensified. The film is not insulting like "Fallen", but the action isn't as impressive as "Moon", nor as awe-inspiring as the original.

It's not that the action in itself is bad, it's just that there's way too much of it. As I've said before, there's a difference between satisfying a basic urge and over-indulging in it. More than any other "Transformers" film, "Extinction" revels in that excess. I was getting sick of the action half-way through, and came out at the end feeling it was way too much. If these films are indeed like cinematic junk food, then this one leaves you overstuffed. It's gotten to the point where I'm not even sure Bay can top this. And if he can, I'm not sure I want to see it, given how much he's topped himself here. I'm too desensitized to these giant robots that I was once in awe of. The films have gotten too formulaic, too big, and too busy to function as pure popcorn flicks anymore. I wanted to hope for the magic to return. But this film made me see there's nothing more here than a giant toy commercial. It's well made in that light, but a commercial it remains. The toys have to be put away at some point.

The Case For Directorial Vision

Spielberg. Scorsese. Coppola. Curaon. Nolan. These are but a few of what Hollywood calls "auteur" directors. Men who not just direct their films, but oversee the writing, production, and generally every other aspect of a film's creation. Often their name is all that's needed to get a project green-lighted, regardless of whether it's a blockbuster, art house film, or even *gasp* an original, non-sequel project. These directors, and countless others, have very firm visions in mind when they set out to make a movie. But just because a director has a vision, doesn't necessarily make it good.

"Blasphemy!", some would say. "A director with a firm vision is the key to a film's success!" And normally, I'd agree. Most films live or die by the strength of the director, who should always know what they want out of a film. But then there are those directors who have a little too much vision. And by vision, I mean power. A director with too much power can completely derail a film, if they're not willing to tone down their unique directorial traits and compromise with others. In times like these, as much as I hate to say it, executive power and vision can actually be a boon to a fledgling film. So here we are in a unique situation, where directorial and executive vision are grappling for control.

Why am I ranting about this, especially now? Well, several reasons. There's the matter of the almost month-long panic over Edgar Wright leaving Marvel's "Ant-Man" film, and the scramble for a replacement director. There's today's release of "Transformers: Age of Extinction", directed by a man who's one of the embodiments of too much directorial power. And we can't forget the new "Star Wars" films, with various talented directors hired to helm them. The point is, a director with a strong vision more often than not benefits a film, but it can just as easily destroy it. I'm here to dissect the case for and against directorial vision, to ultimately decide if directors or studios should hold majority power.

Here are the facts about strong directors: they know what they're doing. Either a director pitches a project to a studio and the studio green-lights it for the director alone, or the studio starts the project and hires the director in good confidence. Either way, it shows a belief in the director's vision. The best examples I can give are comparing Steven Spielberg to Joss Whedon. Spielberg is one of the best, if not THE best, directors in Hollywood. He was back in the '70s, and he still is now. Maybe he's not the director that he was when he made "Jaws", "Raiders", or "Jurassic Park", but Spielberg still knows how to craft a well-made film. Spielberg has enough clout in Hollywood to choose his own projects, becoming a true "auteur" director. He's the one who goes to studios; the studios don't approach him.

Joss Whedon, on the other hand, had an enormous cult following pre-"Avengers" but not a lot of experience directing feature length films. Writing them, perhaps, but not directing. His one credit, "Serenity", while solid, didn't make the numbers Universal was expecting. Warner Brothers put him in charge of their "Wonder Woman" project, but it subsequently fell through. But when Disney/Marvel was trying to get "The Avengers" off the ground, they knew Whedon was the man for the job. Not just for the cult following and goodwill from fans, but for his talent at directing ensembles and encyclopedic knowledge of comic books.

Their faith was, of course, well-rewarded, to the tune of over a billion dollars. The main difference between Spielberg and pre-"Avengers" Whedon, though, is that Spielberg could choose his projects, whereas Whedon was a hired gun. But even though Whedon was hired on, he got the gig because Disney/Marvel had faith in his ability to direct, and knew his strong vision would carry their riskiest project to success. No matter if a director can choose his projects or is simply hired to execute a studio-mandated film, a strong vision goes a long way.

There's loads of other directors that can prove this point. Chris Nolan was hired by WB to reboot Batman. A wildly successful trilogy later, and now Nolan is one of the most powerful directors in the business. "Inception", "The Prestige", and "Memento" are all testaments to his strong, singular vision, to say nothing of the hype behind his upcoming film "Interstellar", purely because he's directing it. From hired gun to auteur, this is the true power of directorial vision gone right.

And then there's Martin Scorsese ("Raging Bull," "Taxi Driver," "Goodfellas"). Francis Ford Coppola ("Apocalypse Now," "The Godfather Trilogy"). Woody Allen ("Annie Hall," too many others to list). Akira Kurosawa ("Seven Samurai"). Alfonso Cuaron ("Children of Men," "Gravity"). Stanley Kubrick ("2001," "The Shining," "A Clockwork Orange"). History has shown the power of those who know what they want from their films. Simply put, great cinema is made by great directors. Those who have a clear vision for a film will always be successful. End of story.

Except when it's not. The directors I've listed above, hired or auteur, recognize the power they're given and know how to use it properly. There are some directors out there, either complete hacks or fallen auteurs, who abuse their power and churn out inferior films. Their egos tell them they can do no wrong, so they include everything they want to see at the expense of making a good, streamlined movie. Argument, thy name is Bay. Michael Bay needs no introduction, being the man with the best 'splosions in Hollywood. Bay does make entertaining films, I'll give him that. Films that know exactly what they are, and don't try to be Oscar-worthy.

But when you're handed a franchise based on toys, and make each one subsequently longer to the point where your fourth film has a near-three hour run time, something's wrong. It's less about Bay doing his brand of movie and more him indulging in everything he likes, to the point where it's unbearable. With "Bad Boys", "The Rock", "Pain and Gain", and even "Transformers 1", he had restraint. With the "Transformers" sequels, it's anything but.

Of course Bay's not the only case where directorial power went bad. Take Zach Snyder and Peter Jackson, for example. Zach Snyder may have proven his directing chops with "300" and "Watchmen", but "Sucker Punch" proved that if you put him in charge of visuals AND story, the results aren't pretty. "Man of Steel" was better off, but if cities are blowing up and no one's batting an eye, something's wrong.

Peter Jackson, meanwhile, is an award-winning director, and completely deserves it. He did manage the Herculean task of adapting "Lord of the Rings" to film. And for this, I and many other fans will be eternally grateful. But when your "King Kong" remake is so long and awkwardly paced that the iconic biplane scene is actually boring, then restraint is needed. Same applies when adapting "The Hobbit", a 300 page book, into a nine hour trilogy. A two-parter I understand, but this I do not. Jackson's films are all visually arresting and packed with real emotion, yes, but he really needs to learn the power of editing.

George Lucas, on the other hand, needs to learn a little more than that. Once a true auteur for making "American Graffiti" and the "Star Wars" films, he's since fallen into ruin over creative control of his properties. Even back in the good old days, Lucas struggled to exert his vision on others. He hated how "Episode V" turned out, even though its director Irvin Kirshner made it the best of the Saga. His attempts at control led to Ewoks in Episode VI, all before the complete insanity of the Special Editions and the prequels. Lucas became so obsessed with his vision for the Saga that he alienated his fanbase. He never listened to anyone, rationalizing that midichlorians and Jar Jar Binks were good ideas. More than any other director, Lucas embodies what it means to let directorial power go to your head.

So we've seen now that even once-good directors can get power hungry and turn out crappy films. In these cases, maybe it's better if studios have more control after all. Studios with specific visions for films should reign in misbehaving directors, to ensure they don't indulge in excess. Sounds like a decent plan, given studios are the money behind these films and should know what they want to invest in. Except that, more often than not, total studio control is the worse possible thing to happen to a movie. Don't believe me? Look at every superhero film that's been made since the late '70s.

Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, and the X-Men know all too well what happens when a strong director is swept under the rug by the studio. Compare Richard Donner's first two Superman pics to every other sequel and reboot. Look at what the empowered Tim Burton and Chris Nolan did with Batman, as opposed to the studio-controlled Joel Schumacher. See how a studio mandate made "Spider-Man 3" what it was, to say nothing of the entirely corporate reboot series. Notice what happens to any X-Men film that doesn't have the name Bryan Singer attached, as director or producer.

Those problems, however, are small potatoes to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. If any franchise embodies the conflict between directorial and executive vision, it's this. Marvel CEO Kevin Fiege is highly publicized as the man behind the MCU. Everything is his vision, and it's up to him to ensure every film and show is integrated into the wider universe. Continuity this series may have, but as individual films, they're largely hit or miss. The best ones ("Iron Man 1 and 3", "Cap 1 and 2", "The Avengers") succeeded more due to a strong directorial vision than any reliance on a shared universe. The more mediocre entries ("Thor 1 and 2", "Iron Man 2", "Hulk","SHIELD") suffered for trying to service the wider universe, at the expense of standalone stories. Their directors bowed to the studios' whims, and it showed.

"Guardians" and "Ultron" look to be strong MCU entries, and if they are, it'll be due to Joss Whedon and James Gunn's strong visions. "Doctor Strange" director Scott Derrickson, known for his horror work, could also knock his Marvel project out of the park, should Marvel listen to him. The biggest threat now is "Ant-Man", which gets to the heart of this whole conflict. The entire reason the film is being made was "Shaun of the Dead" director Edgar Wright's unique vision for the story. He spent years perfecting it, and was finally ready to make it happen. But when Marvel ordered a re-write that didn't mesh with the tone Wright wanted, he quit. Now "Yes Man" director Peyton Reed has replaced him, hired to execute another man's passion project. It could be salvaged, true, but based on the track record of both other MCU projects and superhero films in general, it doesn't bode well.

So after all that, clearly studios can't be trusted with complete control either. Yet unless the director is a true auteur, most of them can't be trusted with absolute power. Who, then, should have the most authority? In all honesty, no one should, at least not fully. Every film is a collaborative effort, the result of directors, producers, writers, actors, stuntmen, effects people, etc. etc. No one person is completely responsible for the success or failure of a film. More often than not though, the director or the studio has the reigns. A strong director, whether auteur or hired gun, can succeed as long as they have a set vision. But even then, they need to collaborate with others, since too much ego can seriously ruin a film.

But collaboration doesn't mean "give in to studio demands." It means COMPROMISE. A balance needs to be struck between studio and director, regardless of who has more power and influence. Disney may be the reason new "Star Wars" films are getting made, but J.J. "Star Trek" Abrams, Gareth "Godzilla" Edwards, Rian "Looper" Johnson, and Josh "Chronicle" Trank have unique enough visions to carry these films forward. Their vision will hold power, but their collaboration with Disney/Lucasfilm will really bring the films to life. Lucas once knew, whether as director or producer, that working with others was the key to success. He may have lost his way with the prequels, but the Disney merger is proof that he's regained his senses. Other studios and directors must learn this too, so their films can benefit from successful collaborations. Good directorial vision will always benefit a film, but a good director, even an auteur, is one who knows to listen. Case closed.

How to Make A Sequel: A Dragon and Jump Street Double Review

Oh, sequels. The savior and bane of the Hollywood engine. I don't need to go into any sort of detail about how sequels, remakes, reboots, and franchises are spelling the doom of creative cinema. I've written far too much on it already, to say nothing of other film critics and, indeed, 90 percent of the Internet. This summer, as with any other blockbuster season, sequels reign supreme. One could argue the season actually started a month early this year, with "Captain America: The Winter Soldier" launching in April. By the time May swung around, we had not only Spider-Man and X-Men sequels, but re-imaginings of Godzilla and Sleeping Beauty as well. Now nearing the end of the month of June, we find ourselves bombarded by even more sequels, including the upcoming "Transformers: Age of Extinction".

I'll be writing a lot on Michael Bay's seven year love affair with giant robots soon, but for the purposes of this rant, all you really need to know is how hated Bay's Transformers sequels are. They are prime examples of not only Bay's gigantic ego, but Hollywood's as well. Sequels are often excess personified, upping the stakes and scale of their predecessors in hopes of out-grossing them. There was a time when sequels weren't really necessary, and just blatant cash-ins. Then the era of the franchise arrived, where blockbuster films came tailor made as the first in an ongoing series. Sequels became "necessary", but that didn't mean they were still any good. That was, until filmmakers wised up and realized sequels should build on the foundations of the original. Instead of cashing in, they should grow organically from what came before, and move the characters and stories into new directions.

It sounds like a no-brainer, but we as audience members know all too well the disappointment of a bad sequel. Thank the cinema gods, then, that two amazing sequels, "How to Train Your Dragon 2" and "22 Jump Street", came out in the same week. Not only are these amazing films in their own right, but they are textbook examples of how to make brilliant follow-ups to already entertaining works. And the best part is, both films display a different class of sequel, that nonetheless knows what truly made the first film so appealing. Both films wisely focused on that, instead of simply taking everything in the last film (positive AND negative) and adding more of it.

I expressed very clearly in my "Animation Domination" rant that I wished to cover more animated films. My ultimate reason for this was that most animated films can move us in ways the best live action films can't. Maybe it's because we expect these to be mindless kids' films, which then surprise us with engaging characters, mature situations, and a significant amount of depth. Maybe it's because animation is free to realize any world it wants, instead of being limited by budgetary constraints. It could very well be a combination of both, or for a variety of other reasons. The point is that Dreamworks' "How to Train Your Dragon" franchise is so damn good at doing all of this that it's almost scary. I had no expectations for the first film, and after seeing it in theaters on impulse, I was surprised to find the best Dreamworks film since the first two Shrek movies (in may ways surpassing them).

With such a strong first effort, interest in the sequel was only natural. I secretly hoped the second film could surpass the first, but was always aware that most kids' film sequels never got that chance, barring a few exceptions (thanks Toy Story!). Needless to say, I wasn't disappointed. "Dragon 2" improved on its predecessor in every way, not only offering a superior sequel and animated film, but a strong summer blockbuster in its own right. In the future, I hope film historians take note of this film, or films like it, when discussing how to make a proper blockbuster sequel. Like any sequel, we do get higher stakes and a larger scale, but the filmmakers did well to couple that with a huge emphasis on story and characters.

When making a sequel, filmmakers should pick a story that grows naturally from the first film. It should explore and expand on the unique world of the original, while giving more depth to the central story and the characters within it. If a character went through a full arc last time, a new arc must be found that builds off of who that person is. One should always ask: "after all that, what's next?" That's literally the premise of "Dragon 2", as it follows Hiccup grappling with his future after uniting Vikings and Dragons on his homeland. Having mastered flight, whole continents are open to him now, and with that comes new discoveries and new people. A looming war brought on by a Dragon Master named Drago Bludvist propels the plot, but really it's about Hiccup coming into his own as a person, after realizing his talents in the first film. It's really about deciding how best to utilize your abilities now that you're aware of them.

Couple that with the reveal of Hiccup's mother and his grief of taking over as the new chief, and you've got a winning story that organically builds off the first film. The best part is that the movie keeps the focus squarely on Hiccup's journey, but consistently delivers in the action department. It ups the ante considerably, with new dragon species and a full-on fight between two giant alpha male dragons. It's thrilling stuff, the kind summer blockbusters are made of. There are scenes that make you laugh and cry in equal measure, some of which are incredibly dark. Despite that, the film never gets too serious, always remembering to have fun and revel in the unique fantasy world it's created. Truly, "How to Train Your Dragon 2" is a wonder to behold, especially as a sequel.

And then there's "22 Jump Street." Like "Dragon", I had zero expectations with the original, and found it to be one of the best comedies in years after seeing it. The key to both the original film and its sequel's success is the full awareness that it's not needed. While the first film was a sly satire of Hollywood's excessive need to remake old properties, the sequel sets out to make fun of the very nature of sequels themselves. From an early conversation between Tatum and Hill with their captain, it's clear this was the intention. The characters themselves complain how they're given the exact same case, and how their superiors expect similar results despite there being different variables. The film just takes off running from there, playing with our expectations from the first film to deliver a movie just as funny as the original.

I adore meta-humor, and this film is simply loaded with it. You can't really go wrong with an unnecessary sequel that knows it's unnecessary. The jokes on the college lifestyle all hit, but the real success is Tatum and Hill's chemistry, which just keeps growing from the original. Like "Dragon 2", the filmmakers knew that the key was organically exploring where the characters would go after the first, but what makes this film unique is that they pulled something both funny and sincere out of a premise that wasn't needed. Again, it knows it's a cash-in sequel, so it makes fun of the very concept of cash-ins, to great effect.

While the entire film references this, the greatest example has to be the credits. In an attempt to comically one-up the sequel hook of the last film, "22" explores every sequel idea imaginable. From flight school, medical school, and semesters abroad to space, dance, and ninja academies, the final few minutes are a laugh riot. We basically get Jump Streets 23-40 and above here, spoofing not only the cash-in sequel trend, but the very idea of film franchises as well.

Where "Dragon 2" took the concept of the "bigger and better" sequel and executed it seriously and to great effect, "Jump Street" delivered a riff on the premise itself, then guaranteed a franchise couldn't happen by exercising every possible sequel idea at once. The best part is while it's fairly ridiculous, the imaginary sequels play into the theme of the film, solidifying Tatum and Hill's friendship and assuring the audience they'll partner up for many more missions to come. I don't use the term "brilliant" often when it comes to movies, especially comedies and ESPECIALLY comedy sequels, but this fully earns it.

It blows my mind that a kids film and a comedy can so perfectly capture how to make an excellent sequel, and yet "Dragon" and "Jump Street" do it. They are a testament to good storytelling and film-making. They make me believe that Hollywood can build off the strength of original works, instead of simply cashing in on them. They are, without a doubt, some of the best films I've seen so far this summer. Simply put, Michael Bay should take notes when the inevitable Transformers 5 comes out in a few years. Then again, such films will always make money, and Hollywood will always want to churn out crap to feed the masses (and their wallets). But as long as films like "Dragon 2" and "22 Jump Street" exist as a balance, there's hope for good Hollywood sequels after all.