Category: Comic book film

Superman II (1980)

An odd mish-mash of styles and strange jumps in logic make this a less successful sequel

Director: Richard Lester

Cast: Christopher Reeve (Clark Kent/Superman), Gene Hackman (Lex Luthor), Ned Beatty (Otis), Jackie Cooper (Perry White), Sarah Douglas (Ursa), Margot Kidder (Lois Lane), Jack O’Halloran (Non), Valerie Perrine (Eve Teschmacher), Maria Schell (Vond-Ah), Terence Stamp (General Zod), Susannah York (Lara), Marc McClure (Jimmy Olsen), EG Marshall (President), Clifton James (Sheriff)

Superman started with Brando’s Jor-El condemning Kryptonian criminals General Zod (Terence Stamp) and his sidekicks Ursa (Sarah Douglas) and Non (Jack O’Halloran) to ‘living death’ in the Phantom Zone. Decades later, Superman (Christopher Reeve) accidentally releases them by deflecting a Parisian Hydrogen bomb into space. They arrive on Earth with the same powers as Superman, hell bent on revenge. Unfortunately, Superman is unaware of this, whiling away time in the Fortress of Solitude with Lois Lane (Margot Kidder) who has learned his identity. Sacrificing his powers to live a normal life, how will he stop the world’s population “kneeling before Zod”.

Superman II was to be filmed simultaneously with Superman. At least that was the idea. But as producers Alexander and Ilya Salkind’s tenuous control of finances spun further and further out of control, efforts refocused on finishing the first one. When that was a hit, work was due to re-start on Part 2. That’s where the trouble began. The Salkind’s relationship with director Richard Donner was already heavily on the rocks. Further disputes over the tone of the sequel – Donner claimed he wanted a serious film and that the Salkinds wanted a kid-friendly, gag-heavy chortle – led to Donner’s sudden sacking and replacement with the Salkind’s favourite director, Richard Lester.

To say the style of these two didn’t mesh would be an understatement. Donner was all about making the high-blown and ridiculous feel full of po-faced seriousness (you could say self-importance). Richard Lester, on the other hand, was the man who turned Juggernaut, a film about a murderous bomber, into a work-place black comedy. Any film that used an odd combination of both man’s material was probably doomed to be a Frankenstein’s monster, neither one thing or another.

That’s pretty much what Superman II is. In many ways, with Lester taking over 75% of the way through – and then looping back and re-shooting several scenes to ensure he had directed over 60% of the film and guarantee (after Donner refused to take any credit) that the film would have someone as a credited director – it’s a miracle it makes any sense at all. As it is, the tone varies wildly at times from scene-to-scene: a prat fall gets followed by a death, a romantic riff by a mortal threat. From it’s Parisian opening with its incompetent bombers (one of whom is played by Richard Griffiths of all people), through to its goofy comedy as villains trash a mid-Western town, each set piece is two thirds drama to one third farce. In addition, the long break in filming means the actor’s appearance switches and changes frequently and important plot developments suddenly spring out of nowhere.

A lot of that came from contract disputes. Original top-billed star Marlon Brando was suing the Salkinds, convinced they were stiffing him on his 11.75% box office share from Superman. Since Brando was entitled to the same share of this film if he appeared in it, every single frame of him was cut. Which would have been fine – if Brando’s Jor-El hadn’t been pivotal to a de-powered Superman regaining his powers. Lester had already re-shot several Fortress of Solitude scenes with the more amenable (and cheaper) Susannah York taking over as tutoring hologram. Clearly, they ran out-of-time – or just didn’t think anyone would care enough – about also getting her to reshoot a scene to take the place of the last vestige of Jor-El in the Fortress’ computer erasing itself to restore Clark’s powers. Instead, Clark just gets them back off-camera, no problem.

There are touches of this throughout the film. Hackman had refused to return after Donner’s firing, his scenes all too obviously finished by a stand-in with his back to the camera while another actor gives a nearly-but-not-quite impersonation of Hackman on the soundtrack. Several times scenes with Hackman suddenly stop, which feels odd – and then you realise they were impossible to finish. It also means poor Ned Beatty and Valerie Perrine also fade into the background or disappear (presumably because it would have been hard to do her scenes with the camera fixed behind a double’s back).

The thrown-together madness of the film can be seen in the bizarre story. Zod’s entire time on Earth seems to take place more-or-less in real time: arriving, terrorising a small town, capturing the White House. Meanwhile, Clark and Lois romance at Niagara Falls on a very poorly explained journalistic sting operation (including an embarrassing pre-fame Antony Sher as a lascivious hotel bellboy) and retire to the Fortress for a night of passion, a depowering and then travel from the North Pole to America (by boat and car presumably!), presumably all in the same day. You can’t blame the staff at the diner they stop at being flabbergasted at how many world-shattering events they’ve missed.

As to be expected, Donner’s grand, Fordian vision is sacrificed to Lester’s love for sight gags. Donner sure wouldn’t have used Zod and crew creating a mighty wind to blow away a Metropolis mob as an opportunity for ice cream cones, wigs and hen-picked husbands clutching telephones to be swept away. Throughout, people are forever crashing into puntastic advertising boardings or (a classic Lester touch) letting loose little muttered asides we only half catch. He even ropes in Clifton James to repeat his JW Pepper from James Bond performance in all but name.

That final Metropolis fight is still impressive in places, despite its obvious sound-stage setting – it’s important to remember it’s the first time anything like this was ever attempted on screen. The actors work hard to maintain a sense of menace and danger from our villains, despite the odd dorky moment. One decision that works extremely well, is Stamp’s underplaying of Zod as a perpetually unimpressed aristocrat, almost immediately bored by his God-like powers. By not straining hard for laughs, Stamp is frequently the funniest thing in the film (and its most memorable performer).

Reeve and Kidder do their best, but the film gives them considerably less to play with. Largely because their relationship feels very rushed, Clark’s decision to de-power himself coming almost from nowhere and lacking any real explanation for why it’s necessary, and neither the script or character being quite nimble enough to not make both Clark and Lois’ reaction to his being duffed up in a bar fight feel like two people who suddenly feel like in losing Superman they’ve got the raw end of the deal.

Superman II powers itself on with a dorky sense of energy, but really it’s a bizarre hotchpotch of the grand and mighty and the ludicrous and silly, that frequently tries to put both in the same scene at the same time. Not surprisingly, it means a film that’s half Donner and half Lester ends up feeling much worse than if it had been made alone by either one of them. Which is not to say either of those films would have any good either.

Masters of the Universe (2026)

Catnip to fans (like me) but honestly a tonal mess of a film with just enough fun to almost work

Director: Travis Knight

Cast: Nicholas Galitzine (Adam/He-Man), Camila Mendes (Teela), Idris Elba (Duncan/Man-At-Arms), Jared Leto (Skeletor), Alison Brie (Evil-Lyn), Kirstin Wiig (Roberto), James Purefoy (King Randor), Charlotte Riley (Queen Marlena), Morenca Baccarin (Sorceress), Jóhannes Haukur Jóhannesson (Fisto), Jon Xue Zhang (Ram-Man), Sam C. Wilson (Trap Jaw), Sasheer Zamata (Suzie), Christian Vunipoa (Huessein)

When I was very young I loved He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. I had almost every toy, watched every cartoon, seen the live-action movie – I even continued watching the Further Adventures which took He-Man into space. So, I think its fair to say I am the exact target market for Masters of the Universe: a middle-aged man who hasn’t really grown up, who wants to soak in childhood nostalgia. On several of those scores, I can’t be disappointed with Masters of the Universe, even while recognising this is a deeply flawed film, with far less to entertain the non-fan.

Anyway, Adam (growing up to be Nicholas Galitzine) is the Prince of Eternia, who fled via a sword-of-power wormhole, to Earth after his planet was conquered by the evil Skeletor (Jared Leto). After losing the sword and being stranded on our world for 15 years, earning a crust as a sensitive ear in HR, Adam tells anyone who will listen he is actually a Prince from a far-flung world. When he finds the sword, he is rescued by old friend Teela (Camila Mendes) and taken back to Eternia where he finds the remains of the Eternia’s mightiest heroes struggling in the resistance to Skeletor. But perhaps Adam is the chosen one, who by the power of (Castle) Greyskull will become the mighty hero to defeat Skeletor?

Spoilers: of course he is. I’ll repeat, for the fan, there is so much to like about Masters of the Universe. First and foremost, the loving detail the characters have been bought to life, in all the bright primary colours and demented designs of the original. Did I ever imagine a world where I would see a live action film with a blue skinned Trapjaw with a green face, pinkish helmet and jaw and a mechanical arm that can turn into a hook or canon? Heck no, but I’m all for it.

Every single character has been bought to the screen like they’ve literally been ripped from the pages of my old comics, and given a steroids boost (although Skeletor’s old toys were as ripped as this). Not only that, but the film brings us obscure heroes like Moss Man (exactly what you’d expect) and Mechaneck (whose weapon is an extending mechanical neck). My hat guys. You can’t deny the love clearly there: so many of the cast and crew have talked about their deep-rooted affection for it (if I was a famous actor, I’d have loved to be in this). It’s strangely heart-warming.

But with my more critical grown-up head on – the one that isn’t bashing the action figures – is Masters of the Universe a mess? Yes, 100%. A fun mess for sure. Some decent laughs. Nicholas Galitzine is charmingly endearing as the gentle Adam. Camila Mendes revels in playing the film’s real tough guy, the good at almost everything Teela. Jared Leto has never been more enjoyable than as Skeletor, walking a tight rope between making the character absurdly pathetic and deeply horrible. It bounds along with real pace. As it should, since you can see much of its visual design, use of rock music and strongly tongue-in-cheek affectionate mockery is ripped straight from Thor: Ragnorak (you feel like its desperately trying to be a remake).

But thematically, it’s all over the shop. You feel the push-me-pull-me of different writing crews during the film’s tortuous production. It wants to explore questions of toxic masculinity and true strength coming from within. But does so ham-fistedly. For starters, the idea that Adam’s true powers come from his HR trained empathy is rendered hard to take seriously since (a) the film rips the piss out of HR speak every chance it gets, (b) Adam sounds ridiculous and uncertain and fails every single time he tries to defuse a conflict and (c) all his problems are solved through super strength. Not a single dilemma is resolved through negotiation or compromise.

Toxic masculinity coverage is also all over the shop. James Purefoy is presented as the model appalling dad, eternally disappointed in his sensitive son… until the film judderingly changes gear and tries to present this as well-meaning tough-love. Idris Elba’s Duncan collapses into a decade of drunken self-pity after his cocky self-assurance is torn apart. Does he get out of this spiral by acceptance or humility? No, he gets over it by blasting the hell out of stuff. Adam’s flatmate’s hiding his love of romcoms should be perfect for this but is only ever a punchline. Even Fisto’s masculine dismissal of Adam gets no blow back (the suggestion he’s full of cowardly bluster is similarly dismissed by the finale reaffirming he’s tough and therefore a hero).

Which makes the film’s moral (just like the cartoon, it ends with one!) feel pretty empty. Adam doesn’t even learn from his first brutally ill-thought out, violent attack on Skeletor’s HQ, which only succeeds in hurting people he cares for, that anger and pride are dangerous. He also quickly gets over his endearing squeamishness about ripping arms off androids or gunning down goons. Struggling to get out here is an idea of He-Man as still being the same sensitive twelve-year old – but it’s constantly cancelled out by the film needing He-Man to flex his muscles and skewer goons to the wall. A better film would have given He-Man his powers much later or explicitly have him earn them through demonstrating the qualities the film is pretending its praising (communication, honesty, sensitivity) rather than in his willingness to give a punch a go.

I could probably go on. I enjoyed the film. I did. But it’s sort of observed the arcs of Thor and Thor: Ragnorak, mixed it with some of the charm of Travis Knight’s Bumblebee, but still ended up completely missing the points it’s claiming to be making. And no amount of nostalgia-bait character design or (I can’t believe I’m typing this, even before news leaked he might have the same attitude to women as his character) fun from Leto or charm from Galitzine really makes up the difference.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day (2026)

Charming and likeable Marvel action film with a genuine heart at its centre

Director: Destin Daniel Cretton

Cast: Tom Holland (Peter Parker/Spider-Man), Zendaya (MJ), Sadie Sink (Jean Grey), Jacob Batalon (Ned Leeds), Jon Bernthal (Frank Castle/Punisher), Florence Pugh (Yelena Belova/Black Widow), Tramell Tillman (Bill Metzger), Marisa Tomei (May Parker), Mark Ruffalo (Bruce Banner/Hulk), Michael Mando (Marc Gargan/Scorpion), Naomi Watts (EV), Oliva Booth-Ford (Sara Grey)

It’s been four years since Spider-Man: No Way Home and they’ve been tough for Peter Parker (Tom Holland). After the entire world were magically forced to forget him (in order, of course, to save the multiverse!), Parker has spent those years dedicated to the idea that with ‘great power comes great responsibility’. While also obsessively maintaining his anonymity to avoid anyone being put at risk by knowing him, his only contact with former girlfriend MJ (Zendaya) and best friend Ned (Jacob Batalon) via cyber-stalking. He’s terribly lonely beneath his wise-cracking cheeriness. Peter’s life starts to shake up when his spider powers begin to alarmingly mutate and grow in strength just as a mysterious antagonist (Sadie Sink) with the power to control minds and an agenda against the government Department of Damage Control pops up.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day is in many ways a very hard reset of the MCU’s Spider-Man. Before this, the friendly-neighbourhood spider-man was awash with friends who knew exactly who he was. He lived in comfort and had the backing of Tony Stark’s unlimited cheque book. Brand New Day takes him closer to the classic image: low on resources, lives in a beat-up apartment, fights crime on the streets of New York, has no friends and relies on his own ingenuity to build his equipment. It really is a Brand New Day.

It also gives a great opportunity for Tom Holland to flex his muscles (in more ways than one). Holland is as witty, charming, sweet and decent as ever, but his new isolated Spider-man is sadder, more maladjusted and awkward and (above all) deeply and desperately lonely. He talks endlessly to an AI companion, chats with friendly professionalism to cops he works with, dodges any chit-chat from his neighbours and seems to do nothing but fight crime. Holland is really good at showing the fractured, desperate loneliness Peter is feeling under his enthusiasm. These feelings come pouring out of him as he sits endlessly re-watching Ned’s Instagram live-streams or assures anyone who asks that he’s absolutely fine.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day is also very endearing because Holland and Zendaya are extremely likeable, very talented actors you easily invest in. It’s very hard in Brand New Day not to want Peter to tell MJ everything and for her memories to come flooding back, especially because Zendaya is very good at subtly implying MJ ‘knows’ something is missing in her life but can’t put her finger on it. Not surprisingly they have fabulous chemistry. When the film finally does bring them together, Holland’s sudden pained emotion followed his buttoned-up attempt to hide what he’s feeling is genuinely affecting, as is Zendaya’s polite, honest but uncertain responses.

The compellingly personal story between these highly likeable characters – who we have already followed across three movies – powers the movie’s emotional high spots. As does the equally affecting friendship between Peter and Ned. Perhaps’s Brand New Day’s best sequence just involves the three of these characters and a Lego set, a little touch of normality and simple joy that feels particularly affecting considering how much we’ve seen Peter’s loneliness. (It’s also rather nice that Brand New Day implies at points that the bonds of lifetime friendship may be the strongest love there is).

Brand New Day has a lovely beating heart, which means you can let go the fact it’s probably too long and some of its twists and turns are probably neither twisty or turny (in particular, one character is so clearly not what they seem you’ll be hard pressed not to mutter “that’s the villain” the second they appear). Daniel Dustin Cretton directs with zip, even if he fast cuts some of the action so quickly it actually makes it harder to appreciate the loving work that has clearly gone into the fight choreography.

However, like many of the best MCU films, the antagonist (I choose my words carefully) works because they are a neat commentary on the hero. While Peter – who even when visiting Florence Pugh’s Black Widow in a bath house still wears his facemask – lives in isolation repressing his feelings, Sadie Sink’s mind-controlling mystery character is revealed to be desperately searching for a lost loved one. While Peter feels terrified and stressed by his powers – his head throbbing with his super-senses and disgusted by his new found web-shooting skills – Sink revels in her growing strength. And, unlike Peter burying himself in duty, she is willing to put others at risk to heal herself.

Some of Brand New Day’s best sequences are set around Sink’s ability to ‘jump’ her mind from body-to-body within a 30-foot radius. A huge team of actors and dedicated choreographers play the dozens of people inhabited by Sink’s character, and the body language and physicality of these actors is so expertly done you always know, at any point, exactly who is being controlled in any crowd. Combine that with the jerky movements of people’s bodies as Sink’s mind ‘jumps’ in and out of them, and you’ve got some striking soft-psychological horror (especially as the ‘possessed’ have no memory of their actions) that reminded me of devil-possession drama Fallen.

Sadie Sink is very good as this mysterious character (although her name is now public knowledge), full of pain, loss and anger, desperately chasing a clue whose mysterious nature when revealed is chillingly effective. Brand New Day is also supported with a host of fine MCU cameos, especially Jon Bernthal’s Punisher a gruff, sweary, ends-justify-means contrast to Parker (especially as it hilariously points up Parker’s family-friendly refusal to say any naughty words) who, like our hero, is bottles up his loneliness under a moody exterior that doesn’t invite any questions.

Brand New Day really works however, because in Holland and Zendaya it has two very talented actors, playing hugely likeable characters, going through dilemmas that are very relatable, even if one of them can shoot webs from his wrists. It’s that heart which makes Brand New Day so enjoyable. The stakes are winningly personal, which carries so much more impact than special effects laden nonsense. It’s even brave enough to make its final confrontation three people talking. And you get Spider-Man fighting Ninjas. What’s not to like?

Superman (1978)

First of the Superhero genre, a light and gentle film with simple black-and-white morality but very charming

Director: Richard Donner

Cast: Christopher Reeve (Clark Kent/Superman), Marlon Brando (Jor-El), Gene Hackman (Lex Luthor), Ned Beatty (Otis), Jackie Cooper (Perry White), Glenn Ford (Jonathan Kent), Trevor Howard (First Elder), Margot Kidder (Lois Lane), Jack O’Halloran (Non), Valerie Perrine (Eve Teschmacher), Maria Schell (Vond-Ah), Terence Stamp (General Zod), Phyllis Thaxter (Martha Kent), Susannah York (Lara), Marc McClure (Jimmy Olsen), Sarah Douglas (Ursa), Harry Andrews (Second Elder)

You’ll believe a man can fly! That was Superman’s punchy tagline for one of the first major attempts to bring a comic book hero to the screen. It’s also a landmark in special effects: after all the Man of Steel could fly faster than sound around the world, catch bullets, throw giant objects into space – he was going to need a mega special effects budget to do that. And of course, he would need an epic cinema screen to do it in, something producers Alexander and Ilya Salkind were determined to supply, with no expense spared (or, it seems, controlled) back stage, as a host of top-flight Hollywood hands were bought on board, led by Brando (picking up a record fee and 11% of the gross) for a first act cameo as Superman’s Dad Jor-El.

Superman’s plot tried to balance comic book lore, with some Earth-bound heroics to put our hero through his paces as he gently works out who and what he is. Sent to our world as a baby by his doting parents (Brando and Susannah York) with their world Krypton doomed to destruction, he’s adopted in the Mid-West by the Kents. Growing up and discovering his past, Clark Kent (Christopher Reeve) joins the Daily Planet as a plucky, mild-mannered reporter under lead investigator Lois Lane (Margot Kidder) – who he quickly gets a crush on (and who has a crush on Superman). While he saves people left, right and centre, criminal mastermind Lex Luthor (Gene Hackman) plans to fracture the San Andreas fault in the most hostile landgrab ever. Can Superman stop him?

Superman is structured into four clear acts and is all about putting into place the sort of thing fans of the comic book would have remembered from back-in-the-day. From the prologue in Krypton (including an extended set-up for the sequel, which was being shot simultaneously), via Clark’s teenage years, his arrival in Metropolis and the final San Andreas fault wrestling of the finale that sees Superman swooping around the Golden Gate Bridge and the Hoover Dam, every act rolls with heartfelt, comic book thrills from moment to moment. It’s all very light-weight – the villains, for all their dastardly plans, are goofy and any tragedy never really sticks when Superman can fly fast enough to turn back time – but there is also a gloriously old-fashioned innocence and decency about it.

Donner’s film goes for a mix between a David Lean-ish epicness, with sweeping Western vistas, soaring camerawork through the skies and Space Opera grandness, mixed with a screwball His Girl Friday aesthetic at the Daily Planet with Lois Lane as a fast-talking, story-fixated journo (like Rosalind Russell, only with more hanging off the side of dangling helicopters) and Clark Kent as a dopey, aw shucks mix of Gary Cooper and James Stewart. There is a nice screwball romance between Reeve and Kidder and surprisingly the two moods of the film hang together extremely well, aided enormously by John Williams’ epic score, whose fanfares stir just the right level of heroic wonder as Clark spins in phoneboxes from awkward Clark to unstoppable Superman.

It’s also a huge tribute to Christopher Reeve, who is both charmingly light and funny but also hugely endearing. It’s very easy to make someone so gosh darn perfect as Superman rather wearing. After all, the guy is scrupulously polite to everyone, never holds a grudge, always has a nice word to say and is as untainted by temptation as he is unbeatable in any situation. Basically, Superman is a character it’s very easy to get wrong, but Reeve leans into the everyday simplicity and humbleness. Clark Kent is essentially Superman exactly, but with his bashful earnestness dialled up and his resolute bravery carefully concealed. It’s a performance that really works.

It’s also a performance that plays only third fiddle in the billing. Which is to be expected in a Salkind film: these guys loved a big name. After all, they commissioned Mario Puzo to write the script because he was the most famous writer in the world. Donner called that script camp beyond belief (he claimed he didn’t use a word of it), constantly positioning the film in a more serious light. As befitted the high-brow crew, not least Geoffrey Unsworth as photographer. Top billing went to Brando, reading from cue cards as Jor-El, loaning the crystal set and glowing costumes his reputational seal of approval, while a host of classical actors (Howard, Andrews, Schell, York) flit around the edges as loomingly serious heads intoning grandiose lines.

Second billing went to Hackman as Lex Luthor who, like Brando, did the film as quickly as possible for a large pile of dollars. He dials up the comic ridiculousness as a foppish Lex Luthor. Not keen on shaving his hair (only briefly does he pop up a bald cap on), Hackman bounces comically exasperated dialogue off dim sidekicks Ned Beatty (even more OTT) and Valerie Perrine (giving good air-head glamour) and channels his inner used car salesman. Luthor of course isn’t really threatening at all – even if he does plan to kill millions – which feels about right for a film as playful and hopeful as this one.

He still causes enough havoc, requiring Superman to repair it with a neat mix of wire-work, model work and impressive miniatures, all put together with plenty of fast pace, awe-inspiring energy. Superman’s real enemy effectively becomes time itself – can he race around the world fast enough to save millions, fix the Fault and fish Lois Lane from deathly peril? – which also works very well for a film that positions the Man of Steel as a champion of decency, democracy and community spirit. Reeve gets a well-played moment of emotional torment in this, before the film settles back into its groove of gentle, crowd-pleasing reassurance that nothing really bad will happen.

Superman isn’t exactly a masterpiece. The flimsy lightness of the plot and it fast paced bounding from event to event makes it feel like a comic serial bought to life, where cause and effect aren’t necessarily important to understand. But it’s got a genuine sense of warmth and gentleness to it that perhaps explains why it made such an impact on those watching it. So much so, that every version of the character that followed on film would share major DNA with Reeve and Donner’s vision. I guess they really did make a whole generation of young filmmakers believe that a man could fly.

Captain America: Brave New World (2025)

Pure, unfiltered, content nothing more. Full of stuff you’ve seen, doing things you expect.

Director: Julius Onah

Cast: Anthony Mackie (Sam Wilson/Captain America), Harrison Ford (Thaddeus Ross/Red Hulk), Danny Ramirez (Joaquin Torres/Falcon), Tim Blake Nelson (Samuel Sterns), Shira Haas (Ruth Bat-Seraph), Carl Lumbly (Isaiah Bradley), Xosha Roquemore (Leila Taylor), Giancarlo Esposito (Seth Voelker/Sidewinder), Liv Tyler (Betty Ross)

Welcome to a Brave New World of Content. There’s nothing really wrong with Captain America: Brave New World. But there are also feels like no real reason for it to exist. Let it pass before your eyes for a couple of hours and you’ll have a decent time: then you’ll barely remember it, leaving you as brainwashed as it’s villain’s Mr Blue Sky programmed minions. It exists because the MCU is a gargantuan shark that has to keep moving forward, consuming more and more of the cultural conversation to stay alive.

What’s it about? Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie) is our new Captain America, still air-bound with his Falcon wings (now powered up with some Wakandan science) but without the super-serum that made Steve Rogers near-invulnerable. His new boss, ex-General-now-President Ross (Harrison Ford, replacing the late William Hurt), has his doubts – but is also dealing with his own anger-management issues. Ross is being manipulated by imprisoned evil genius Samuel Sterns (Tim Blake Nelson) who wants Ross’ hypocrisy exposed to the world – and to turn him into Red Hulk for good measure. Since every single scrap of publicity material reassured us Red Hulk appears in the film, it’s not a surprise to find out he succeeds.

It’s all told in a reassuring way: another film pressed out of the MCU cookie-cutter. There is an interesting story dealing with Sam’s doubts about his worthiness, not least since he lacks Steve’s strength and speed. It’s so interesting… that Marvel has already made a TV series about it. Brave New World offers a less interesting, crib notes version of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, while anxiously dancing round that series’ engagement with the moral complexities of a Black man taking on the name of Captain America, representing a country whose track-record on race is not something to boast about.

All the best stuff has already been rinsed once through the MCU content machine. Sebastian Stan pops up to repeat the moral message of that series in a single scene. Carl Lumbly returns as an aged Black Captain America, ill-treated by the government (although his background is skirted round by a film, terrified of being accused of any form of political statement). Sam, just as he did in the series, wonders about powering himself up to Steve levels and decides not. For anyone who has seen the series, it’s a shallow retread. For anyone who has not seen it, it makes very little impression.

Brave New World struggles to find its purpose and reason for being. There is an astonishingly large amount of exposition in it, constantly explaining and reminding us what everything is. Brave New World serves as a sort of side-ways sequel to two of the franchise’s least liked, least remembered films (The Incredible Hulk and Eternals), as well as being a thematic remake of a TV series. It feels like what it is: a film shot and reshot over years, until all sense of its tone and originality has been ironed out into the most generic, safe and pointless film you can imagine.

Marvel could sort of tell everyone was wondering why on Earth they should make this film, so dangled Red Hulk before us like a hook desperate that it would get bums on seats. There is something quite tragic about the series being reduced to spoiling their own ending. Particularly as all this transformation really just leads into a fairly familiar end-of-film smackdown in an all-too-obviously CGI created backdrop. This was probably a legacy of the years of delays and reshoots, the film tottering awkwardly between various political issues: hence it’s timid handling of issues from #blacklivesmatter, it’s attempt to not put off the anti-Woke brigade, to it’s meek fear of including an Israeli character in a leading role.

Perhaps that’s why we end up with something as formulaic and straight-forward as this. Anthony Mackie gives of his very best (although he has said in interviews, he prefers the long-form character building opportunities of TV shows – and who can blame him) and makes a winning argument for himself as a figurehead for a struggling franchise. Harrison Ford looks slightly bemused that he’s even in here (and I’ll eat my hat if we see him again in an MCU property), autopiloting through his gravelly grumpiness until he transforms into a big red monster with stretchy pants.

There are some decent action sequences. Giancarlo Esposito gets to riff on his Breaking Bad role in a character (again, some what obviously) added in reshoots years after the project completed filming. A mid-air battle over Japanese waters is gripping enough, if nothing special. A chase scene through the White House and across Washington lands well. Tim Blake Nelson does a decent job as a villain powered by intellect rather than strength. None of this is remotely new, original or particularly different from dozens of other MCU films (did they decide on locations based on where they haven’t really been before?) but its all entertaining enough.

It’s also though painfully, pointlessly, predictable. As inevitable as the arrival of the Red Hulk (a sure sign that the MCU was terrified the film was going to bomb, was when they smacked that guy all over the posters and trailers), every beat feels like dozens of other MCU films. It feels like a middling entry that will be easily skippable for what passes now for the series overarching narrative. Every moment feels fundamentally pre-packaged and shorn of any personality. It’s a highly professional, well-oiled, well-assembled film and you’ll forget almost every single thing about it within about an hour of it finishing. It’s just content from a series that needs new stuff like a lung needs oxygen.

Superman (2025)

A fun, character-led, engaging film that makes a better stab at starting a massive franchise

Director: James Gunn

Cast: David Corenswet (Clark Kent/Superman), Rachel Brosnahan (Lois Lane), Nicholas Hoult (Lex Luthor), Edi Gathegi (Mister Terrific), María Gabriela de Faría (The Engineer), Anthony Carrigan (Metamorpho), Nathan Fillion (Guy Gardner), Isabela Merced (Hawkgirl), Skyler Gisondo (Jimmy Olsen), Sara Sampaio (Eve Teschmacher), Wendell Pierce (Perry White), Pruitt Taylor Vince (Jonathan Kent), Neva Howell (Martha Kent), Zlatko Burić (President of Boravia), Frank Grillo (Rick Flagg), Bradley Cooper (Jor-El)

In 1978 Hollywood promised to make us believe a man could fly. In 2025 it just wants us to believe a franchise can be reborn. Superman, again, hopes the man of steel can launching a DCU franchise to compete with Marvel (in some ways, hilarious that this is just at the point when the world seems tired of interconnected monolith Comic Book worlds). Has it learned the lesson of the first attempt? I’d say yes: under the experienced hand of James Gunn, Superman is light, fun, exciting and engaging. It may all be (inevitably) heading towards a city-sized smackdown to save the world, but at least it does it with a bit of charm and character work along the way.

What it also definitely isn’t is an origins story. And, in many ways, thank God: is there anyone under this yellow sun that doesn’t know Superman is from Krypton, his alias is mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent at the Daily Planet, he’s got the hots for Lois Lane, his enemy is balding super-genius Lex Luther and he’s got a deadly fear of Kryptonite? Gunn is totally spot-on that we didn’t another hour plus on film laboriously putting all those pieces in place again.

Superman instead throws us straight into the second act: the invulnerable hero (David Corenswet) getting beaten for the first time, outmatched by Lex Luthor’s (Nicholas Hoult) Ultraman who has all of Superman’s powers and none of his personality. It’s part of a doom spiral where Superman’s decisions to unilaterally intercede in a war are condemned for overstepping, painful revelations about his past leave him ostracised by the world and he winds up imprisoned by Luthor who wants to reshape the world as he sees fit. Can reporting (and romantic) partner Lois Lane (Rachel Brosnahan) rope in the Justice Gang (a group of meta-human heroes) to help?

That probably doesn’t give quite a clear enough picture of what a barmy, primary-colour spectacle Superman is. To say it throws in everything including the kitchen-sink at your would be an understatement. Gunn’s film is soaks in love for the scatter-gun, heightened reality of comic books. If the first wave of DCU films were about trying to ground superheroes in the real world, this throws us into a nutsy world where: the Justice Gang are celebrities and their members include a half-hawk woman and a cocky dickhead with a magic ring; the villain has a private pocket universe he’s using as a personal Guantanamo Bay; and battles with giant space monsters are such a regular sight people whip out their phones to film it rather than runaway.

In fact, in this world, Superman facing off against his super-powered foe in a city collapsing into a giant rip in space-and-time actually feels strangely grounded. Compared to floating around on flying platforms through a purple pocket universe or swimming through a river of anti-matter to save a meta-human baby who can change his form into any material on earth, it’s pretty normal. But Gunn’s film embraces its madness with a tongue-in-cheek joie d’vivre: in fact, it’s refreshing that the film acknowledges there is no point trying (once again) to Nolanise this stuff.

In fact, Gunn works hard to make sure any real-world commentary is delivered with a soft-touch. A key sub-plot about the invasion of Jarhanpur (a stand-in for both Ukraine and Gaza) by its neighbour Boravia (blatantly Russia) gets funnelled into a black-and-white moral issue. A Trump stand-in is Boravia’s blow-hard leader, with a thick Russian accent (distancing him from the real thing). Social media gets a kicking (not surprising considering the director’s personal experience on it), but with off-the-wall gags like Luthor owning a legion of engineered monkeys endlessly typing angry comments into the ether to drive algorithms. Metropolis is the only city where a daily paper not only drives discussion, but is the most trusted source of news.

The colourful barmyness also works, because Superman grounds itself in warm and relatable characters. Bought to life with a great deal of humility and relatability (the one area the film plays it completely genuinely) by David Corenswet, this version of Superman embodies the virtues of kindness. He’s endlessly polite and attentive, from his robot servants in the fortress of solitude to his hardest language being “gosh”. He’s dedicated to preserving life (from humane subduing of giant monsters to saving a squirrel mid-fight) and putting others first. He’ll go to great lengths to protect his pet dog Krypto (possibly the most genuinely endearing dog on screen since The Artist).

And it makes a great framework for a film that deconstructs Superman by stripping him of his certainties. Dramatically it’s always difficult to fear for an invulnerable hero, so Gunn’s decision to open with our hero having had the crap beaten out of him (not for the last time in the film) is a good touch. But Gunn also challenges Superman’s moral certainties, in particular with a unique reveal in Superman-lore leaving him questioning everything he thinks he knows about his past. It’s refreshing to see a film challenge superheroes for taking unilateral decisions on behalf of everyone, with even Lois criticising him for a power-grab. Sure, it’s a strawman – there is no doubt Superman’s decision to stop Boravia is the right thing to do – but it’s good to see it discussed and questioned.

Superman uses this to explore characters, in particular the emotional vulnerability of Clark Kent and the bond between him and Lois. There is a refreshing scene where Corenswet and Brosnahan simply sit and talk about his turmoil, while outside the window in the distance a bizarre intergalactic-eye monster is fought by the Justice Gang. (Both a good gag, and a sign of the film’s focus on character). But, unlike other Superman films, Corenswet’s Man of Steel confronts him with the possibility of physical and moral failure on every level. Throw in a Luthor who, for all his man-child antics, carries out some of the darkest, most brutal acts any version of the character has before and this leads to some genuinely affecting moments of grief and guilt.

Gunn combines this genuine interest in character with some engaging use of obscure comic book characters, about him the general viewer has no pre-viewing expectations. Krypto is a genuinely funny addition as a hyper-active chaos pet. Nathan Fillion is good fun as a dickish blow-hard with super-powers. Edi Gathegi is wonderfully droll as the wearily frustrated Mr Terrific. And the three leads make a very effective combo: Corenswet’s selflessness and kindness very well contrasted with Hoult’s petulant arrogance while Brosnahan gives Lane gallons of determination and can-do attitude.

It’s not perfect. A sub-plot about Luthor’s girlfriend is presented as a victim of an controlling relationship and a source of comedy for a desperate neediness. It’s resort to a big-city smackdown is overly familiar, while a few reveals can be seen coming far off. Hoult’s Luthor is a big-swing of a performance that doesn’t always hit. But when it works, it’s a bubbly ball of super-hero-fun that celebrates basic decency, kindness and looking after each other. And maybe that’s the hero we need right now.

The Fantastic Four: First Steps (2025)

Fun entry in the MCU, bright, pacey and entertaining – but never engages with its deeper issues

Director: Matt Shakman

Cast: Pedro Pascal (Reed Richards / Mister Fantastic), Vanessa Kirby (Sue Storm / Invisible Woman), Ebon Moss-Bachrach (Ben Grimm / The Thing), Joseph Quinn as (Johnny Storm / Human Torch), Julia Garner (Shalla-Bal / Silver Surfer), Ralph Ineson (Galactus), Sarah Niles (Lynne Nichols), Mark Gatiss (Ted Gilbert), Natasha Lyonne (Rachel Rozman), Paul Walter Hauser (Harvey Elder / Mole Man)

It’s taken almost seventeen years (can you believe the MCU has been going for so long?!) but ‘Marvel’s First Family’ finally make it to the party, escaping one of those legacy rights deals the comic giant signed before working out it could make films itself. Since, for those interested, there are already three Fantastic Four origins-films for you to seek out (they gained their powers from flying through a space storm), Fantastic Four throws us straight into the second Act of our heroes lives, communicating their origins in an in-universe TV show celebration of their achievements (including a montage of them defeating a parade of second tier villains, including Mole Man and an army of super-intelligent chimps) before throwing them up against their biggest challenge yet.

For their unofficial leaders, Reed Richards (Pedro Pascal – whose real life super-power seems to be that he appears in all movies) aka Mr Fantastic science super-genius and master strategist with limbs of rubber and Sue Storm (Vanessa Kirby) aka Invisible Woman, the world’s greatest diplomat, who can create forcefields and make herself (and others) invisible) there is the challenge of impending parenthood. And for the whole gang, also including scientist and wild-child Johnny Storm (Joseph Quinn) – he can set his body on fire – and Reed’s best friend, astronaut and Herculean powered made-of-stone Ben Grimm – it’s the threat of Galacticus (Ralph Ineson) a planet-eating giant whose herald (Julia Garner) arrives on a silver surfboard and announces Earth will be his next snack, unless the Four hand over Sue’s unborn child.

The Fantastic Four’s decision to skip the origins story throws us straight into a story that’s a lot of fun. A very enjoyable romp with some well-sketched out characters (played by engaging and charismatic actors), a few extremely well-made set-pieces, plenty of humour, just enough heart and a decent, city-crushing, smackdown at the end. It’s directed with a lot of bounce and joy by Matt Shakman and despite being about literally earth-shattering events manages to keep the focus tightly on the family at its core (perhaps a little too tightly, but more on that later).

It’s also a delightful triumph of design. Set in a sort of cyber-punk 1960s (the idea being that Richard’s intellect has super-powered mankind’s development), it’s a gorgeously realised world of 60s design, all curving surfaces and primary colours, intermixed with souped-up 60s technology like ingenious androids that run on cassette decks and flying cars, like The Jetsons made flesh (doubly engaging as the film so obviously committed to real sets rather than blue-screen invention). I also rather liked the implied joke that the world has progressed only in the areas Richards’ considered worthwhile: so this world has faster-than-light travel, flying cars and abundant energy sources, but totally lacks hi-def television or social media (and who can blame Richards for that).

There is also a certain charm in how the Four are universally beloved heroes. Everywhere they go, they are flooded by admirers and merchandise wearing children (it’s quietly never explored if the Four paid for their colossal, futuristic tower and private space base with a fortune in image deals). Reed fills time between inventing the future with hosting a TV show about science for kids, while Sue essentially runs the United Nations. Johnny is the star of every social event and Ben bashfully lifts the cars for the kids in his Brooklyn neighbourhood and flirts shyly with a primary school teacher (Natasha Lyonne).

This world is pleasingly shaken up by the arrival of the Silver Surfer, a charismatically unreadable turn from Julia Garner (under a CGI naked silver body). First Steps successfully uses this threat to humanise a group of heroes who otherwise might have proved too good to be true. For starters, their confident assurances all will be well when they head for space turns out to be far from the case when they are comprehensively outmatched by an immortal planet eater and his physics-defying silver herald. First Steps most exciting and thrillingly assembled scene is their retreat from a first encounter with this giant, a brilliantly managed high-octane chase around a black hole with a few extra personal perils thrown in on top, made even more gripping by Michael Giacchani’s pitch-perfect score.

That’s before the devilish conundrum of balancing the fate of seven billion people with Sue’s unborn son. If First Steps refuses to really dive fully into it, it does successfully raise the emotional stakes. It’s also a ‘reasonable’ offer from Galactus, a surprisingly soulful anti-villain, played with a mix of disdainful arrogance and death-dreaming melancholy by Ralph Ineson (there is a lovely moment when he takes a break from imminent city-smashing to pick up and sniff a fistful of Earth as if he’s forgotten the smell) desperate to escape the cycle of endlessly devouring planets to maintain his interminable life.

Horrific as it is to imagine a baby taking his place, First Steps avoids really delving into this intergalactic trolley problem. Because, at heart, it’s a film where superheroes alarmingly make decisions for billions of people with no oversight or pushback. Having unilaterally decided to reject Galactus’ offer, the Four seem surprised the rest of Earth are less than thrilled at their impending demise because the Four won’t make a Sophie’s Choice. There is some rich potential here to really delve into the way the Four are, arguably, benign dictators, reshaping this world in their own image and accepting adulation and unquestioning following. First Steps ignores it – the world’s discontent underdone by a single speech from Sue – and only for a split second is the moral quandary treated as something meriting genuine debate. As the surfer points out, if the kid was an adult he would certainly accept: is it right to take that choice from him?

But it’s a comic book movie, right? So, let’s not overthink it. And Marvel was never going to darken its First Family with hints of elitest oppression, demanding sacrifices from others (and the world makes huge sacrifices to protect their child) but not themselves. First Steps is a fun film. I liked its vibe, like a live-action Incredibles (only not that good), I enjoyed the BB4-like robot Herbie, all four of its leads are highly likeable with excellent chemistry. So, I’m trying to just not think about where this onrushing trolley is going and instead enjoy the view.

Thor (2011)

Branagh lives his dream by making the most comic-book, bombastic Shakespeare-homage ever

Director: Kenneth Branagh

Cast: Chris Hemsworth (Thor), Natalie Portman (Dr Jane Foster), Tom Hiddleston (Loki), Anthony Hopkins (Odin), Stellan Skarsgård (Dr Erik Selvig), Kat Dennings (Darcy Lewis), Clark Gregg (Phil Coulson), Rene Russo (Frigga), Colm Feore (Laufrey), Ray Stevenson (Volstagg), Idris Elba (Heimdall), Jaimie Alexander (Sif), Josh Dallas (Fandral), Tadanobu Asano (Hogun), Jeremy Renner (Hawkeye)

If you’d told people after Henry V that one day Kenneth Branagh would direct a high-octane comic book movie about a Norse God who bashes things with a hammer, you’d have been laughed outta town. But Branagh was who Marvel called to launch the Thor franchise – and doncha know it turned out to be a pretty shrewd choice.

Thor (Chris Hemsworth) is the arrogant son of Odin (Anthony Hopkins) and heir to the throne of Asgard, the planet that keeps peace in the Universe. After an attempt by Asgard’s old enemies, the Frost Giants, to re-capture a stolen super-weapon, Thor leads a reckless attack on their homeworld that threatens to shatter a hard-won peace. Disappointed and furious, Odin strips Thor of his powers and banishes him to Earth, where the fallen God of Thunder must learn humility to be worthy of regaining his powers. On Earth, he falls in love with gifted scientist Jane Foster (Natalie Portman), while on Asgard the realm falls under the control of his brother Loki (Tom Hiddleston), who manipulates events to make his own claim for both the throne and their father’s love.

You can sort of see the Shakespearean bits bubbling away there. Fathers and sons, ambition and power, tragic flaws. Destiny verses desire. Loki as a mix of Edmond, Iago and Cassius. Thor as a Prince Hal earning the maturity to lead. Odin as a kindly Lear. Hell, you could see Thor washing up on the shores of New Mexico, like Twelfth Night’s Viola, forced to pretend to be something he isn’t. He even has his own mini-Falstaff, in gluttonous warrior Volstagg. It’s a heightened story of Kings and Queens, Tempest-style magic and Hamlet-style family intrigue. Marvel, of course, partly hired Branagh to bring attention to this (effectively, paying Branagh for his Shakespeare-street-cred to make an otherwise snigger-worthy concept of Norse Gods in space get taken seriously), Thor does a great job of bringing this out without drowning the fun.

And of course, for those paying attention, Branagh had been dying to do bombastic nonsense for years. Shakespeare had disguised that Branagh adored loud crashes, big bangs, showy camera work (half of Thor is done in Dutch angles, apeing comic books) and pounding soundtracks. His Hamlet is crammed with half a dozen genres, from romance to action and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein showed he could fly over the top with the best of them. But he’s also an actor’s director, and he draws performances here from Hemsworth and Hiddleston in particular that would lay the groundwork for making these two of the most popular actors in the whole damn franchise.

Thor above all does a brilliant job of making us care for a lead character initially presented as a likeable but arrogant, immature and cocky hit-first-think-later warrior, cavalier about people’s lives. There is a very funny humiliation conga inflicted upon Thor on arriving on Earth (a classic rule-of-three gag) leaving him successively tasered, tranquilised by a syringe in the ass and knocked over by reversing car. It’s a brilliant way of breaking the haughty – the Mighty Thor, who trashed an army of Frost Giants, laid low by a middle-aged doctor yanking down his hospital pants. But it all sets us on a path for caring about him, helped by how chivalrous and polite he is with Portman’s winning Dr Foster. Sure, he’s still dripping with hubris – assuming once he gets his hands on his hammer Mjolnir again, everything will be as it was – but at wider traces of humanity emerge we start to care for him.

It’s cemented by a very effective scene where Branagh proves his worth as a director of actors. After failing to lift said hammer – being, at this point, unworthy due to having not really learned anything – Thor sits alone in an interrogation room, visited by a disguised Loki. Hemsworth is very good in his scene: he suddenly makes Thor humbled, fragile, accepting his failures, not lashing out but tearfully apologising for his past behaviour, meekly asking to just be allowed to come home then bravely accepts his permanent banishment. It’s actually an effectiveportrait of overcoming hubris: Thor’s true heroism isn’t trashing Loki’s rent-a-robot that is the film’s penultimate foe. It’s accepting, in his depowered state, his role in the battle is to stay out of the way and help get people out of the way before offering his own life as a sacrifice if he will end the robot’s rampage.

If Thor, in Hemsworth’s gently sweet and funny performance, overcomes hubris, Loki succumbs to it. Tom Hiddleston’s charisma here (cemented by his excellent turn in The Avengers) helped him become Marvel’s most popular anti-hero. Like Thor, he’s a complex character: a second brother who secretly resents his brother’s prominence, wants his father’s love, learns things about his past which make him lean into his worst instincts, all to try and be what he mistakenly thinks his family wants. Hiddleston carries all this angst and tragedy with real skill, while also filling the role with wit and playfulness: it’s a great, star-making turn.

It’s a sign of the film’s surprising complexity that it’s hero and villain switch perspectives over its course. Thor starts by dreaming of destroying the Frost Giants to impress Odin while Loki counsels restraint. He ends it by making enormous personal sacrifices to protect them from a genocidal plan unleashed by Loki who wants to prove he’s as tough as Thor. The film ends not with a hero triumphant, but alone and grieving losses. It’s stuff like this that makes Thor a truly interesting, engaging film in a way other MCU outings are not.

And a lot of it comes from Branagh’s skill with actors. Thor might not offer the greatest acting challenges to the rest, but Hopkins in particular was better here than he had been for years (he credited Branagh with helping him rediscover his passion for acting) and Portman and Skarsgård bring a lot of humanity to thinly written roles. Sure, in other ways Thor is less special: it’s action set-pieces are, by and large, fairly uninspired and run-of-the-mill, the small town trashed by a robot looks and feels like a backlot stunt show, some of the comedy lands flatly. But when it focuses on the character drama of two contrasting brothers and their love for their father it’s feels more real and engaging than a host of more technically adept comic book movies.

Thor gets over-looked in the MCU rankings. But it’s a surprisingly thoughtful, well drawn character study about worthiness not being about muscle and force, but on your wisdom, compassion and humility and putting other people before your own needs and desires. All captured in a magic hammer that is otherwise impossible to pick up. Branagh’s film gets that, with added bombastic comic book thrills. Thor has entertained me each time I’ve seen it and will go on doing so.

The Flash (2023)

The final death rattle of the DCU franchise, a terrible film fill of bad storytelling and lousy gags

Director: Andy Muschiette

Cast: Ezra Miller (Barry Allen/The Flash/Young Barry Allen/Evil Barry Allen), Michael Keaton (Bruce Wayne/Batman), Sasha Calle (Kara Zor-El/Supergirl), Michael Shannon (General Zod), Ron Livingston (Henry Allen), Maribel Verdú (Nora Allen), Kiersey Clemons (Iris West), Antji Traue (Faora-Ul), Ben Affleck (Bruce Wayne/Batman), Jeremy Irons (Alfred)

This is how it ends. Not with a zippy bang, but a stumbling fart. The Flash is, quite simply, one of the most dreadful, misguided messes you are likely to see: the final sad, rammed-together-by-committee piece of pandering from a franchise declared DOA before the film was even released. Could The Flash have worked if the DCEU had been a success? Its defenders might say yes, but let’s be honest: no. And not just because of Ezra Miller. Though God that didn’t help.

Anyway the plot. We meet Barry Allen/The Flash (Ezra Miller), fighting crime with the Justice League. Because the DCEU was in a rush (and never bothered to make an origins film allowing muggles to understand who the hell he is), after an action-packed opening we are basically rushed at dizzying speed through his backstory (the sort of thing Marvel, back in the day, would have spent two films building). Allen’s Dad (Ron Livingston) is in prison for the murder of his Mum (Maribel Verdú) though he’s innocent. Allen works out he can go back in time to change this. He does but then (naturally) ruins the past. He finds himself back in Man of Steel time which – we are hurriedly told – is the same time he got his powers. The grief that made Barry a hero in our timeline didn’t happen here so the Barry of this timeline is, to put it bluntly, a complete prick. He’s also changed lots of other fan-pleasing stuff, lost his powers, wiped most of the DCEU characters from history (no loss) and has to team up with a different Batman (Michael Keaton) to train his past self and save the world.

First and foremost – who thought it was a good idea to make a film that depends on this much knowledge of a character who has never had a film made about him before? Marvel’s Spiderman got away with jumping over the origins story because we’d already seen it twice. Joe Regular Public has no bloody idea who Barry Allen is. They aren’t ready to be introduced to his backstory like it’s established, famous stuff and watch it being twisted upon. Or watch a plot twist about the granting of its powers unfold at the same time as we are told when we event got them in the first place. It’s totally bizarre – it’s like the film is throwing in call-backs to films that never happened.

This sort of plot, watching our hero change the past, needs us to actually have lived through the past with that hero. To understand the emotional impact it’s had on him and to have watched him mature. Instead, we get all this stuff dumped on top of us and then watch a version of a character we don’t really know teach another version of that character how his powers work without us having been given any knowledge ourselves of how those powers work, meaning we are as ignorant as he is.

It doesn’t help that we’re given no reason to bond with Barry Allen – any of them. Firstly, let’s get the elephant out of the room. We now know what will prevent a Hollywood studio cancelling a troubled star: if they have invested $200 million on a film in which they appear in every single frame. Miller is sort of beyond toxic now: someone who has stolen, assaulted women, groomed minors, proclaimed themselves an Indigenous messiah and faced multiple arrests and restraining orders. If this film had cost $20 million it would never have been released. Hell, if it had cost $75 million like the tax-written-off Batgirl, it would have been spiked. But DC and Warner had too many eggs in the Ezra basket so hoped we might forget they were asking us to bond with a literal criminal.

Leaving that aside though: all iterations of Barry Allen seem pretty awful people. The first is selfish whiner with poor empathy. The second is an absolute douchebag, a character so irritating he manages to make the original look like a wise mentor. The third who pops up later is a 2D man-child. Nothing Barry does is engaging or sympathetic, but yet the film assumes we love him as much as those working on it clearly do.

This multiple iterations could have worked if we had seen Barry mature over multiple films and then gone back to meet the “initial” version of himself. It makes no impact when we have no bond with the character. The film assumes emotional connections with characters and totems that simply don’t exist. For example, Future Barry is furious Past Barry uses a cherished teddy bear (his dead mother’s last gift) as a dartboard target. That might mean something if we’d seen Barry carry this totem for a couple of films: The Flash has to give us all the information about the totem (including its existence) within thirty seconds. It’s a small example of the film’s topsy-turvy nonsense.

While sprinting to introduce a franchise, it also indulges in piles of fan-bait nostalgia. The most obvious is, of course, the return of Michael Keaton as Batman. Perhaps due to Miller’s toxic nature, the film played this angle up big time in its trailers. But it’s nostalgia that only really means something to people in their 40s and 50s and literally sod all to most of today’s audience. Every second Keaton appears on screen it “homages” the Burton pics – he can’t take a crap without hearing Elfman’s music, the visuals are littered with references and Keaton wearily says things like “let’s get nuts”. Keaton looks like he hates himself for saying yes to the (presumably) truckloads of money he was paid to be here.

He only doesn’t win “most disengaged actor” because we have a thinking-of-his-castle Jeremy Irons and Michael Shannon trotting through the film practically wearing a t-shirt saying “by contractual obligation”. Shannon centres a CGI filled smackdown that inevitably ends the film’s penultimate act, before the multiple Allens disappear to a CGI world of parallel universes and dead actors recreated by the power of special effects and the desire of deceased actor’s estates to earn a tasteless quick buck (there is something really tasteless about Christopher Reeve’s appearance in particular).

The CGI in this film, by the way, is some of the worst you are ever going to see in a tentpole release. Never mind the uncanny valley of its array of nostalgia cameos or the blurry, explosion in a paint-shop vision of alternate realities, crammed with utterly unconvincing CGI clones of its actors. Watch Barry’s rescue of babies from a collapsing hospital in act one – these are hellish figures of uncanny unreality, looking like nothing less than the spawn of Satan. Let them fall Barry, let them fall!

That’s before we even start on the crazy morality of this film. It’s idea that that past is sacrosanct and must never be changed fits it’s worship at the altar of nostalgia – after all it’s the film where a film from 1989 is treated like a holy text. It could have worked if the film had committed to its idea that we have to learn to let go of our grief and that heroes need moments of tragedy to set them on the path to greatness. But after witnessing all this, our Barry at the film’s end… changes the past AGAIN to save his Dad. Did he learn nothing? What kind of message is this?

But then this sort of muddled nonsense probably comes from the length of time the film gestated: it was in development for nearly a decade. So long, that its star became a toxic criminal, a separate TV-show about the Flash was developed, screened for eight seasons, adapted this very story and ended and the franchise this was meant to be part of died. The Flash emerges from this rubble as a catastrophic piece of contractual obligation. The death rattle of a franchise, which was released because its studio had invested so much in it, it was desperate to make something back. It’s a film no-one wanted to make, release or see. A test case for the nightmare modern franchise box-office film-making is.

Venom (2018)

Totally unoriginal and standard comic book caper, saved only by its inventive lead performance

Director: Ruben Flesicher

Cast: Tom Hardy (Eddie Brock/Venom), Michelle Williams (Anne Weying), Riz Ahmed (Carlton Drake/Riot), Scott Haze (Roland Treece), Reid Scott (Dan Lewis), Jenny Slate (Dora Skirth)

Did this film catch me in a good mood? Much to my surprise I rather enjoyed this dopey attempt to bring fanboy-fav villain Venom to the big screen. Last seen adding to the silliness in the utter mess that was Spider Man 3, the outer-space slime who possess its host returns as an anti-hero. Sure, he likes to eat people and suchlike, but when push-comes-to-shove he’s on our side helping to keep our world safe. Safe sums up Venom, which offers a series of set-pieces none of which are troubled with originality. What makes it stand out is the delight Tom Hardy brings to the role.

Hardy is Eddie Brock an investigative journalist framed by the film as a success who gets unlucky, but embodied by Hardy as a loser (it’s the first sign of Hardy’s originality butting up against the film’s obviousness). Fired after his investigation into shady goings-on at Biotech company Life Foundation – run by charismatically cold billionaire Carlton Drake (Riz Ahmed) – Brock goes from hero-to-zero and his fiancée, lawyer Anne Weying (Michelle Williams) leaves him after finding out he stole from her to gain access to Life Foundation. Brock continues his investigation after homeless people start to go missing. They were unwilling test subjects in Drake’s attempt to bond human beings to mysterious alien symbionts. Eddie is infected with one of the symbionts, Venom, the two of them forming an uneasy partnership in their body share. Will they work together to save the Earth?

Most of the success in Venom is exclusively down to Hardy. Where the film zigs, Hardy zags. Venom clearly wants a traditional, handsome, charismatic journalist hero, the sort of guy who puts the greater good first and only fails when he’s let down. Hardy plays him as a grungy odd-ball with a whiny voice, frames most of his decisions as taking the easy path and is happy to show him backing down from challenges. Hardy then pounces on the chance to counter-balance this with Venom, a gravelly id-machine that ends up playing like the dark underbelly of Brock’s hidden desires.

The most interesting parts of the film by far is the internal conversation between these two Hardy performances. Venom is the foul-mouthed monster who wants to indulge himself, Brock is the passive timid figure forever asking Venom to behave himself. Hardy gives the film a sort of gay subtext as frenemies Brock and Venom settle into an odd-couple life partnership. At one point Venom infects a second character: how does he “re-enter” Eddie? Through a passionate kiss between the Venomised second host and Brock. The two of them spark off each other like a feuding married couple, with Venom’s decision to protect the Earth based eventually on ‘liking’ Eddie.

It’s the main original beat in the film that Hardy seizes upon to make its heart. His performance is droll, playful, physically committed, strangely funny and rather sweet. It’s a heck of a lot better than the film deserves and its leaning into making its personality-split lead a weakling and a monster who effectively, unspokenly, fall-in-love feels very different from things we’ve seen elsewhere.

Which is good because almost everything else has been seen and done elsewhere. Fleischer largely fails to make any of the action sequences particularly new or interesting. There is a punch-up in an apartment (which does see Hardy bouncing around the room with a symbiote induced athleticism), a traditional car chase full of car smash-ups that Flesicher is so excited about he presents the smash-ups occurring multiple times from different angles. A SWAT team chases Venom around a building before a Terminator 2 style tear-gas filled foyer smackdown – with the hero imploring the killing machine he’s working with not to hurt anyone. (The humanising of Venom does have echoes of the taming of Arnie’s Terminator).

As in multiple Marvel films the villain is a dark echo of the hero. Riz Ahmed coasts through a barely written role of an egotistical Steve Jobs type, before merging with a-properly-Evil symbiote intent on loosely defined global destruction. This inevitably leads to a prolonged film-closing CGI-smackdown, as two opponents with the same skills face-off to control the launch of a rocket. No interesting comparisons or contrasts are drawn between Brock and Drake who gets only a whiff of motivation.

There are more interesting beats – though again not quite original – with Michelle Williams’ former fiancée who is given both a few proactive beats and a highly likeable and sympathetic new boyfriend in Reid Scott’s Dan Lewis (playing against the sort of smug roles he is often cast in). These fine actors bounce well off Hardy – and share in his delight in dopey humour and slapstick, noticeably in a posh restaurant sequence that sees Hardy sink himself in a lobster tank and eat the inhabitants.

Away from this though Venom is nothing special. So why did I enjoy it? Because I suppose in its derivativeness it at least offers brain-relaxing fun and it’s lifted to a slightly higher level by Hardy’s inventive approach. Aside from him there is almost nothing original, interesting or different here – but yet I enjoyed it while it passed the time.