It is hard to believe that it has been 11 years since we first saw Iron Man. The 2008 film did not feel as much of a beginning as it did an opportunity, a chance, and a belief that superhero films could someday be the biggest reason huge audiences made the trip to the cinema. Even those early iterations of this now connected universe showed that it was hard to shake some of the stigmas of the Avi Arad generation of cinematic superhero films. Arad’s films never quite shook off the “it’s a pretty good movie but it is just a superhero movie” sheen that was only occasionally taken seriously by critics and the public (most notably, Spider-Man 2). But as soon as Kevin Feige arrested control away from Arad, and the films became more focused on Feige’s new vision, we got to see the potential globe uniting qualities that have become the norm for most MCU films.
There were the unexpected highs of The Avengers, the trademark idiosyncrasies that became part of the MCU tradition (the humour, easter eggs, post-credit scenes), the critical acclaim that changed superhero movie perceptions (The First Avenger, Guardians of the Galaxy, Black Panther, Captain Marvel) and the interwoven social and cultural characteristics that solidified these Marvel movies as being in-tune with today’s world.
So how does a franchise that stretches across some 20+ films possibly reach an acceptable, conclusive end? It’s a question that has been asked since we first saw Thanos in The Avengers. That film was also the first time we got a glimpse at what Feige and Marvel had been dreaming of after the success of Iron Man. It was in part, the scale and the scope of a much grander plan that no one could have ever expected, a brand new standard of the comic book to celluloid translation. Enough momentum and success followed and what we’ve gotten this past decade or so is potentially an everlasting mark on film history- it has to be, nothing matches its scale and ambition. Comic book lore, once reserved for basement dwellers and societal outcasts, flourished and thrived in the mainstream.
Avengers: Endgame is then, the culmination of these 11 years, the exhaustive and complex world of characters, worlds, dimensions, and stories interweaved together with Feige-like precision. It hasn’t always been perfect of course, but like the MCU itself, the ambition and scale of Avengers: Endgame is ultimately part of its defining characteristic.
One can argue that directors Joe Russo and Anthony Russo have been the most consistent at the helm of MCU films. Since Captain America: The Winter Soldier, they have been at the crux of this concluding story arc, and their films have a consistent vision and tone that most likely, closely matched Feige’s. Avengers: Endgame is then, part epic finale and part long epilogue to the MCU. Avengers: Infinity War was an Earth-shattering entry into the cannon, and Endgame does more to wrap the entirety of the story than it does to expand on Infinity War’s deep emotional blistering. It is not to say that Endgame doesn’t pull on the heartstrings, how can it not? It is in every respect, the end. And so it packs a lot into its 181 minutes, far too much to make it as riveting as The Winter Soldier or as culturally impactful as Black Panther, but honestly, it doesn’t need to be. Endgame needed to be the grand farewell, the exhale, the unburdening of all our collective movie-going shoulders of an 11-year emotional cinematic experience.
So Endgame is a little heavy on multiple plot lines, doesn’t quite give some of the characters we’ve fallen in love with over the last few films enough time, and its climax is a big, orchestral crashing of CGI and big battle scenes … but how else would the MCU have ended? What else could we have wanted after 11 years? Avengers: Endgame is every bit a tribute to its fans and the desires of a movie-going audience as it is a conclusion to its story. We are able to see these characters for the last time (some for the last, last time), get the sign off we’ve always wanted, and to close a glitteringly successful and captivating chapter in blockbuster cinema. You can critic the film for its flaws (most reviews have been positive, some negative, some just plain stupid), and you can say that Marvel and Disney are giant money printing monoliths who have turned profit into an art form. But so what? Marvel Studios have done more to keep people in cinemas than almost any other franchise save Star Wars, and well, guess who owns that too.
After the conclusion of Avengers: Endgame I was left with a tinge of sadness. Sure, some of it because of the film’s content, but mostly because this journey has come to an end. For the last 11 years, I have been part of this global audience who with much anticipation enjoyed almost every film, reveled in the connectivity of a shared universe, and have had a blast escaping into Stan Lee’s expanse. The next Spider-Man film is said to be the final movie in Phase 3 of the MCU, but it is hard to figure out how the story could possibly progress from here. We’re getting a Loki television series, a Hawkeye television series, and most likely Black Panther 2 and Guardians of the Galaxy 3. But in reality, the best we will ever get ended with Avengers: Endgame. Not that the future can’t be as bright, but for now at least, this was everything we ever wanted.
Election still wins by a landslide
Twenty years later, the black comedy Election is still a hysterical look at power grabs and the meaning of integrity. But while the film hasn’t changed, the story is completely different —and better than ever.
This year marks the 20th anniversary of the incisive satire Election. Based on a Tom Perotta novel, Election tells the story of a high-school civics teacher, Jim McAllister (Matthew Broderick), who plans to take down know-it-all student Tracy Flick (Reese Witherspoon) as she vies for school council.
The film is still hilarious — a well-liked but sad-sack teacher tries to thwart an overachiever’s bid for school president by throwing a popular football hero into the race (and, accidentally, his disaffected sister). Thematically, it’s as relevant as ever. Integrity. Meritocracy. Nihilism. Hypocrisy. Ethics versus morals.
Watching Jim and Tracy’s battle of the wits many years ago, I recall Election posing the question not just of who would win, but who should win. The audience grappled with who to root for because Tracy and Jim’s misdeeds were presented on relatively equal footing. On paper, Jim’s deeds are far more dastardly than Tracy’s, but at the time, their personalities mattered more. Reviewers painted Jim as imperfect but well intentioned, while Tracy was obnoxious. Seductive. Even an “aggressive vixen” (cough cough Roger Ebert).
But a rewatch in 2019 reveals Tracy as more of a heroine than ever — and Jim McAllister a more pathetic and mean-spirited hypocrite than he seemed 20 years ago.
Part of what fuels Jim’s disdain for Tracy is a complicated plot point—his best friend and fellow teacher, Dave Novotny, was fired because he began sleeping with her. The film (and book) mostly portray Tracy as an equal, willing participant in this relationship, even a manipulative one at that. Tracy narrates her full consent, a point likely meant to assuage viewers and readers of the 90s, but today’s (hopefully) better understanding of power dynamics have us questioning not just the claims of Tracy’s manipulation, but her ability to consent.
A clearer understanding of a troublesome sexual relationship aside, it’s also easier to champion Tracy Flick thanks to shows like Parks and Recreation, a rare mainstream hit that humanizes ambitious women. The strong parallels between Election and Parks and Recreation are obvious. In true Leslie Knope fashion, Tracy’s mother writes letters to successful women like Connie Chung, soliciting advice for her daughter. And the race between Tracy Flick and Paul Metzler—played hysterically by forgotten teen dope of the 90s Chris Klein—closely mirrors Leslie Knope’s city council race against Bobby Newport. In every one of Paul Metzler’s ditzy and excited proclamations, it’s hard not to hear Paul Rudd’s portrayal of Pawnee’s fortunate son turned political candidate. (It’s also hard not to wonder if April Ludgate was partly based off Paul’s nihilistic sister, Tammy.)
More than anything, though, what changes how we see Tracy Flick in 2019 is how we see Jim McAllister in 2019.
Twenty years ago, Jim was far more convincing as a passionate educator. Sure, he was smug and made stupid decisions and treated people poorly. But his steadfast belief in morality (skewed as his version of it was) made him more sympathetic than he deserved to be.
Jim is truly despicable, though. His obsession with thwarting Tracy’s achievements reveals precisely who he is. He is every man who had a chance to achieve and fell short. He is every man who wasted his privilege and settled for something less than great. And he is every man who has ever resented a woman for rising to where he didn’t, despite his head start.
What Jim hates more than anything is feeling bested, particularly by women. After Linda Novotny, Dave’s ex-wife, comes clean about their affair to Jim’s wife Diane, his smothering declarations of love instantly turn dark.
“Why did you do that?” he screams into Linda’s answering machine. “You ruined my life, is that what you wanted?” Later, when Linda explains their tryst was a mistake and that he took advantage of her vulnerability, his anger turns into gaslighting.
“You hugged me! You kissed me!” he whines, as though Linda didn’t promptly reject his first hamfisted advance right after her marriage fell apart. (She did.)
Much as he lectures about it, Jim has a piss-poor understanding of morality. His treatment of Tracy shows how little he cares about a grown man taking advantage of a high-school student; his scolding judgments of Dave’s relationship with her seem performative and self-important. For all the lukewarm proclamations of affection for his wife, when his infidelity is revealed, he expresses nothing more beyond an expectation to be forgiven after a waiting period. And while he wields it often, he shows no understanding of the unfair power dynamic he briefly has with Linda, a vulnerable and confused woman who relied on him for support during a difficult time.
That’s why, when Jim describes seeing Tracy silently celebrating her victory in the hallway outside his classroom, he projects his anger and clings to his version of morality.
Defending his plan to throw the vote count in Paul’s favor, he says: “The sight of Tracy at that moment affected me in a way I can’t explain.”
But we can explain it, no problem. He is filled with pitiful male rage.
After all, underachieving Jim channels his need for validation through his relationship with women — an affair with Linda, “winning” against Tracy. But Tracy only channels hers into achievements. Extracurriculars. College applications. And winning the student council election she knows she deserves. She’s never concerned with “beating” Jim McAllister because she knows just how insignificant he will be in her life. And that infuriates and enrages him, like it does with countless other men when they’re outwitted by a woman.
While the film itself obviously hasn’t changed in 20 years, this dichotomy between Tracy and Jim used to be murkier. Tracy Flick is ambitious, cutthroat, smarter than her classmates and teachers, and shrill. That used to be all you had to say to get an audience to view a female character as at least partially unsympathetic, if not an automatic antagonist.
Back in 1999, Election relied on this assumption to paint Jim’s and Tracy’s wrongdoings in a similar light.The film’s trailer pieced together snippets of Tracy’s most stick-in-the-mud soundbites and pitched the movie as the story of an “ego the size of the Grand Canyon.” And it still is, but now we’re finally asking the right question.
Whose ego is that?
Election was originally released in April of 1999.
Film Review: It Chapter Two
The sweet spot between Stephen King fans, horror fans and (believe it or not) comedy fans
The final installment in the It saga is a clever, scary, probably-too-long allegory about the power of friendship — complete with a 20-foot clown spider. Sure, it’s probably a half-hour longer than it really needs to be — but It Chapter Two is still a fantastic film that hits the sweet spot between Stephen King fans, horror fans and (believe it or not) comedy fans.
It’s a story about friendship, and just like the first film, it’s those relationships that make this story so compelling and keep it woven together in a way that you really care about what’s happening to all the folks Pennywise has been menacing across these two films. Sure, Bill Skarsgård’s absolutely terrifying performance as Pennywise is what puts butts in the seats, but at its heart, this is a story about the power of friendship to win out over pretty much anything. If we work together, we can overcome fear, loneliness, doubt, depression — and yeah — even a supernaturally godlike killer clown. Thankfully, all the blood keeps that message from getting too sappy along the way.
The first It in 2017 was a surprise, monster hit — but for good reason. The Stephen King adaptation by director Andy Muschietti is pretty much a horror masterpiece wrapped in a compelling coming of age story. Think Goonies meets a face-eating monster flick with jump scares galore to keep the blood pumping. But, despite a decently-closed ending to the first chapter, the story was always conceived as a two-part film run, which is pretty much the only way one could hope to possibly wrap up King’s massive tome (the studio actually briefly considered splitting Chapter Two into two films, because there’s just so much material).
It Chapter Two makes a wise decision to keep the stellar younger cast from the first film involved via ample flashbacks, while still providing space for the adult Losers to live and breathe (and, ahem, die) while bridging the gap between who they were and who they all grew up to be. It also embraces the inherent silliness and insanity of its premise to laugh, now seen through the lens of middle-aged adults as opposed to middle school minds. It’s a hard tone to hit, and it arguably might come off with more laughs than scares, but it’s true to the inherent madness of Pennywise.
The adult cast is also a home run by and large. James McAvoy makes for a capable adult Bill; Jessica Chastain is the embodiment of adult Bev; James Ransome nails grown-up Eddie; and Isaiah Mustafa does a capable job providing the necessary info-dumps as adult Mike. But the real breakout is Saturday Night Live alum Bill Hader as grown-up Richie. There’s scattered buzz that Hader could be worthy of an Oscar nomination for his performance, and he deserves every bit of it. We knew Hader had comedy chops, and he uses them plenty to keep this dark tale from getting too dark, but he really taps into the emotion of what it’d be like to go through something so traumatizing. And the moments that break Richie will almost certainly break you, too.
As for the changes to King’s original novel, sure, they’ll certainly be noticeable for fans. That said, the book itself — especially the ending — is absolutely wild and arguably impossible to adapt in a way that could work on the screen. The ending on-screen largely stays true to King’s themes built into the novel, and for the story that’s been told across these two films, it really does work. Hell, even King himself shows up in a cameo to make a joke about just how hard it can be to get an ending right.
Thankfully, despite a few bumps, It Chapter Two pretty much nails the landing. In a world filled more and more with King adaptations, this two-film run will stand as one of the best.
It Chapter Two is in cinemas now
IT CHAPTER TWO
Directed by: Andy Muschietti
Written by: Gary Dauberman
Cast: James McAvoy, Jessica Chastain, Bill Hader, Isaiah Mustafa, Bill Skarsgård
Distributed by: Warner Bros. Pictures
Run time: 169 minutes