Every Star Wars fan, from the casual to the obsessive, owes a small debt to Dino De Laurentiis. De Laurentiis was the rights holder to a feature film version of Flash Gordon, a project George Lucas always wanted to make. Fortunately for Star Wars fans, De Laurentiis was holding out for Federico Fellini to make his Flash Gordon film when Lucas inquired about the rights. Lucas was rejected, and with his second film project, Apocalypse Now, stagnant, in May of 1973 Lucas decided to start work on his own space opera.

Ten years later, his most successful endeavor would end with something of a whimper, and its creator burned out light so many old lightbulbs. Thirty years after that, Lucas would sell the franchise for more than most country’s GNP. It’s hard to tell, however, who is more conflicted about Star Wars: the fans, or the creator.

I was originally reading about Lucas and the Star Wars series to determine why someone would release a film which would become a global success, and eventually a phenomenon, and then some twenty-five years later go revisit it. And change it, much to the ire of the fan base that made it the phenomenon it grew to be. Star Wars had grown into such a cultural marker that people who have never seen the film sometimes feel the need to apologize.

Why would someone revisit a film and make, what are admittedly just a few changes to the narrative and visual landscape, changes that would radically alter the development of a major character?

The Star Wars Special Editions always bugged me. The cleaned up prints and audio tracks were welcome alterations, but so many of the changes made no sense: doubling the number of rebel snub fighters in their attack on the Death Star, re-inserting a scene in the space port even though later designs of a major participant made such editing awkward, and the biggie, Han Solo and his trigger finger.

The Rebels were a ragtag bunch of freedom fighters, scraping by on what tools and fighters they could get their hands on, and suddenly, thanks to Lucas’ new love of CGI, the Y-Wings and X-Wings of Red and Gold flights were not only cleaner and sleeker…there were twice as many.

Inserting a scene of Jabba visiting Docking Bay 94 to pressure Han about the money Solo owed Jabba comes across more as an exercise in showing off the computer’s abilities than adding anything to the narrative. Jabba works best as an off camera menace to be revealed as he is in Return of the Jedi. The scene in the Special Edition of Star Wars relegates Jabba to more comic relief (especially when Han “steps” on him), and is bookended by a blatant fan service shot of Boba Fett.

And then there is the kicker: Greedo trying to hit Han before Solo shoots him under the table. Lucas has defended this change ever since, with the most recent defense being

“Han Solo was going to marry Leia, and you look back and say, ‘should he be a cold-blooded killer?’ “ – Washington Post, 12/6/2015

Yes.

Luke is following the beats of Campbell’s The Hero’s Journey so perfectly that sight of Han Solo’s development is lost. Solo is not the main character, but he could be. Very little work needs be done to make the smuggler the (pardon the pun) star. Han starts out as a self-centered smuggler who has to do or say whatever he can – including kill – to survive. With that in mind, his shooting Greedo just before Greedo could shoot him is totally within character. Han then gets caught up in something bigger than he ever dealt with, and is swept up into a rebellion ultimately because he has a code of honor…and because he found love. That code and that love led to a different Han Solo, one who has grown beyond the killer he once was. Erasing that from Solo’s history changes Solo completely and negates any impact made by his growth over three films.

Changes made to The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi were also puzzling. Adding extra footage of the Wampa doesn’t exactly follow the idea with monsters in film of “less is more,” and in general, the replacement musical number in Jabba’s palace is just downright awful. The most laugh-inducing change was transforming the Sarlacc Pit from an “angry sand vagina” to Audrey from Little Shop of Horrors.

I also noted that Empire endured the fewest alterations, and I wondered why. I also watched the prequel trilogy, which have never been able to enjoy once the euphoria of “new Star Wars in the theater” wore off. The prequels are the epitome of style-over-substance filmmaking, and created far more questions about Lucas than they answered.

In studying the film series I found themes which I had either simply not noticed, or chose to ignore, that also presented more questions. For example:

Princess Leia is generally regarded as a “badass,” but if you watch her progression carefully, you notice that she starts off strong, but begins to shrink when Han and Luke start to assert themselves. She becomes so domesticated that by the final film, even the actress portraying her wonders if she has become nothing more than a Barbie doll. In Star Wars, Leia is an assertive leader, a smart-under-fire combatant, and a woman of little patience for idiocy. In Empire, she is almost wishy-washy, being assertive only with Han, and only in conversations where he calls her on her feelings for him. She is an easily frightened, demure woman who only regains her assertiveness when Han is gone.

And then there is Jedi, with one of the most infamous costumes in film history: the brass bikini. The outfit that is the fantasy fodder for so many young men, and an exercise in patience for women. Carrie Fisher noted rightly that when she first appears in the outfit, she no longer has any dialogue (save one quick line to a blind Han). She is made silent by her costume, and none of her friends speak directly to her until after she has dispatched of the giant space slug imprisoning her. She spends the rest of the film being Han’s companion or the property of the Ewoks.

Hardly a proper arc of development for a character who is not only an icon to female science fiction fans, but the only female character of note in the entire trilogy. (Note a recent YouTube edit of all of the dialogue spoken by women in the trilogy not by Leia, which clocks in at just over 60 seconds.)

Padme Amidala’s fate is no better, sadly. She also starts off as a strong and smart fighter, and ends the prequel trilogy literally dying of a broken heart moments after giving birth to her children. At least in the prequels there are two or three times as many ancillary female characters (including the inexplicably midriff-baring female Jedi in a halter-top killed by clone troops once they’ve had a few seconds to check her out).

Also in the prequels, People of Color get better representation, but even that is diminished by the many aliens that come across as parody of racial stereotypes abandoned by filmmakers in the 1950s.

The strangest thing I noticed was the arc of Anakin Skywalker. Destined to become Darth Vader, there was little chance for any kind of redemption for him, and short of the Emperor, Anakin was going to be the nastiest character in the trilogy. Watching Phantom Menace, and then Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith, I couldn’t help wonder just what I was supposed to think of young Ani.

In Menace, he is constantly hearing, directly or not, that he was the chosen one, that he was special, and that he would be the savior of the Jedi. All of the dialogue about him was eerily similar to what we hear of Millennials on a daily basis, in that they are always told they are ‘special little snowflakes.’ An older Anakin suffers from the resultant sense of entitlement, becoming angry, jealous, and belligerent when things don’t go his way. Moreover, as the final two films progress, Anakin has dialogue that is reminiscent of the “Men’s Rights Activists” that harass women both online and in person, speaking of how his peers are not worthy of his time. Was this commentary by Lucas on the state of young people today?

The most obvious theme throughout the series is religion. In the original trilogy, The Force is a thinly-veiled allegory for faith. The Jedi are clerics or monks who serve the force, and when they pass their energies join with the force in such a way that they maintain individuality and act as guides for their charges. Allegories to Christianty, Buddhism, and even Islam are present, merged with the sensibilities and code of the samurai, mostly observed by Lucas in the films of Akira Kurosawa, many of which lend their plots to the Star Wars stories. The theme becomes ridiculous in Menace when Lucas tried to demystify The Force and made it a function of science with the introduction of midichlorians.

By the time Menace was filmed, “Jedi” had become a popular response on government forms for identifying one’s religion, so much so that in some English-speaking countries it is a state-recognized faith. Lucas may have been trying to put the kibosh on such claims with the introduction of one of the more head-scratching inducing elements of the prequels.

Another element of the process that separates the two trilogies so dramatically is their actual production. The prequels are almost entirely CGI, resulting in an antiseptic, glossy aesthetic. In short, it’s so shiny, the visuals are a distraction. In the original trilogy, the only real CGI were a few screen displays and readouts, and the Death Star graphic on Admiral Ackbar’s ship. There is heft and weight to the effects in the original trilogy lending gravitas to the environment. It feels real because you could actually reach out and touch objects, environs, characters. They exist. In the prequel trilogy, not only do few of the objects exist outside binary code, the acting suffers because the real-life actors have very little to react to in their performances. The CGI characters only stand out when they behave in a way that is absurd, or worse, annoying or offensive.

Lucas often said he couldn’t really tell the story he wanted to because of the limitations of technology at the time he made the original trilogy. CGI allowed him to correct so-called past mistakes, and tell the new trilogy to his liking. This however is a disservice to the stories. One of the aspects of good storytelling is giving the reader or viewer just enough information to allow the imagination to properly fill in the gaps. Again, less is more.

By altering the existing visual narrative for the original trilogy, Lucas is not only in danger of altering the perceptions of our memories of the films, but of suggesting with his enhancements that our memories and imagination are invalid. Thus, our investments in his stories could be rendered moot.

Throughout the production of the original trilogy, constant alterations to the narrative were being made by Lucas. The very first one was while the initial treatment for The Star Wars was being written. Lucas started toying with the idea of one story becoming twelve.

With a series emerging, certain things that were being established had to change. For example, early on Lucas made a note that Luke might be a twin, and a long lost sibling (eventually suggested as a sister) might exist. The idea was brought back from limbo following a car crash that Lucas feared Hamill may not recover from in time to continue as Luke. This would come to fruition in Empire when Lucas changed dialogue between Obi Wan and Yoda from:

OBI WAN

He is our only hope.

YODA

No…we must find another.

To:

OBI WAN

That boy is our last hope.

YODA

No. There is another.

By the time of the earliest notes for the treatment that would become Jedi, a note had been scribbled above Leia’s name, “sister?” that would change the future of the franchise, and also gross out anyone who remembered that kiss Leia planted on Luke early in Empire. There are also notes in the treatments about when and how Luke will kiss Leia.

Other, less “EW!” inducing changes made by Lucas over the course of the trilogy included

  • Having Han simply go away after Empire, not as an ice cube, but simply to “move on” and deal with Jabba (Ford was only contracted for two films initially).
  • Much to the unease of Alec Guinness, Lucas decided midway through filming Star Wars that Kenobi should die. A Jedi’s ability to transcend corporeal form and join with the Force to be an ethereal guide was about placating Guinness who was upset he wouldn’t get a meaningful death scene.
  • Lando was to be introduced as a nameless clone gambler, and he may or may not have offered relief for Chewbacca’s jealousy over the growing relationship between Leia and Han.
  • Leia’s assertion in Jedi that she remembered her mother is based on earlier noted where Kenobi took Luke to Tatooine and Leia went to Alderaan with their mother, who died shortly thereafter.
  • Lando was going to be killed off at some point in Jedi.
  • Luke was supposed to kill Vader, then throw the Emperor down the reactor shaft.
  • Yoda’s name was originally “Buffy.”

There are many references in his notes, and in interviews, which reveal Lucas’ philosophy on film making. What makes these ideas all the more interesting is how, just over twenty years later, Lucas would ignore them completely.

Lucas once complained about writing scenes of people just talking, as they were boring and did nothing to move the story along. In Menace, there are several scenes of deliberations in the Imperial Senate where all that happens are talking scenes.

In story meetings for Jedi, Lucas said

“Why can’t you cut around the whole universe and see every planet celebrating? That’s what we should do, but that’s going to be boring; you just can’t do that.”

He would do precisely that in the Special Edition edits of Jedi, and a similar montage for the end of Sith.

Lucas said of casting, “star value is only an insurance policy for those who don’t trust themselves making films.” While the original trilogy is cast with largely unknowns or “lesser known” names, the prequel trilogy is a “Who’s Who” of late 1990s popular actors mixed with British film icons.

Many have theorized of Lucas’ intentions for the ways in which he structured the trilogies. Was he writing some elaborate poem, with beats and scenes intertwining when juxtaposed against their companion films from the previous trilogy? Or was it simply laziness, banking on the fact that history would repeat itself with regard to all named Skywalker?

However, one quote from Lucas suggests otherwise, and presents a possible answer to all of these questions:

“I’ve never really liked directing. I became a director because I didn’t like directors telling me how to edit, and I became a writer because I had to write something in order to be able to direct something. So, I did everything out of necessity, but what I really like is editing.”

George Lucas grew up in the 1950s California, with a passion for cars and racing…and not much else. He liked tinkering with his car and street racing. His first studio film unrelated to his film school projects was a reflection of that time in his youth, American Graffiti.

Lucas, simply put, was a hot rodder. He took a car, and tinkered with it until it was what he thought the car should be. And then tinkered some more.

He didn’t build a car from scratch, take pride in that creation, and then maintain it with the least amount of work for the most possible value. He took an existing product, and messed with it, and continued to tinker, until he was satisfied at that moment.

That philosophy carried over to Lucas’ filmmaking.

Lucas is not a storyteller, or a writer, or even a director.

He’s a tinkerer.

When you accept that, suddenly Greedo shooting first makes sense. Lucas changed the original trilogy to fit his changing world view, not at the time he initially made the trilogy, but twenty years later. A storyteller would look at his old work, and whether or not he or she liked certain elements, those elements would remain unchanged, and addressed in a different work.

Previous work is left for all to consider as a reflection of the creator at that moment in the creator’s life, not the audience’s.

Not for a tinkerer.

Lucas couldn’t leave Sebastian Shaw to portray Anakin’s ghost in Jedi since he only spent a few moments on screen as Anakin. As Hayden Christensen spent far more time on screen as Anakin, the ghost image was changed to Christensen’s.

Despite not being dangerous enough now to shoot first, Han is incapable of running from a mere six Stormtroopers. When Solo deadends into the troopers during their Death Star escape, CGI added more to bring the number closer to one hundred troops.

Max Rebo’s musical number must have seemed dated, so it was changed to a catchier, more modern,  rock song the kids would love. Oh, and he threw in a few more par-dressed dancers, too.

Not enough blatant callbacks to his past? Let’s add Vader’s weak and ineffective “no” yell from the end of Sith to the end of Jedi.

Much like changing who shot first in the cantina, none of these changes make any sense to the story being told. They’re just tinkers to placate the sensibilities of their creator.

For someone who said he performs “in the shadows,” Lucas can’t seem to stay in those shadows. (It should be noted that there are few changes to Empire, which was directed by a mentor of Lucas’, Irvin Kershner. Empire is the one film in the series where Lucas had the least interference with actual production.)

Reinforcing the notion that he isn’t much of a storyteller are his own comments on story: “I’m not really interested in plots…I find plots boring because they’re so mechanical.”

During the same story conference in which Lucas mentioned not liking writing scenes where people just talk, he also talks about not wanting to kill any characters because it isn’t nice. Harrison Ford backed this up after suggesting several times that Han should die to give the saga some weight, except “George is predisposed to happy endings.” However, later in that same conference, he talked about killing Lando despite not having a good reason for doing so.

Lawrence Kasdan on more than one occasion suggested cutting the Ewoks out of Jedi entirely, an idea firmly rejected by Lucas. When asked why, Lucas admitted that they were cute, and eliminating them meant he would have to write more.

One interesting observation came from Mark Hamill. During the scene where Luke and 3PO find R2, just before we meet Ben, Hamill was having trouble with a reading. Discussing the scene with Lucas, it dawned on Hamill how to act the scene. He acted the scene as Lucas…and it was the take Lucas used. It was then he realized that Star Wars was Lucas’ story, and as it is in the name after all, Luke is Lucas. From then on, Hamill simply mimicked Lucas.

This is further evidence into the idea that Lucas is not really a storyteller, just someone tinkering with his own story, or more accurately, his own fairy tale. After all, the fight between Luke and his Rebel friends against the evil Empire does in many ways parallel Lucas’ battle (with the help of friends like Coppola and Spielberg) against the large Hollywood conglomerates.

Taking all of this into account can’t take away from the magical feelings I experienced as a young child in the theaters over several years as I was transported to a galaxy far, far away. Lucas’ feelings about and treatment of the films since their initial release, and his haphazard creation of supplemental films since then, cannot change the enormous amount of entertainment and fun I have enjoyed watching and revisiting Tatooine, Hoth, Dagobah, Cloud City and Endor.

Lucas may not be a real storyteller, a writer, or a director. He does appear to be someone who cares less about our relationship to his creations, and our feelings about the films, than he does our feelings about him.

And maybe…

Just maybe…

That makes him an artist after all.

Unfortunately, we may never know the answer, as now The Force is with someone else. And it’s time to find out if, after all these years, J. J. Abrams was the other hope Yoda suggested.

 

A note about quotes

Unless otherwise noted, all quotes come from J. W. Rinzler’s books, The Making of Star Wars, The Making of Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, and The Making of Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, which cull interviews from a variety of sources, but do not offer direct attribution.

Why the 2011 adaptation of Captain America may be the most important superhero film yet.

“Do you want to kill Nazis?”
“I don’t want to kill anyone.  I don’t like bullies.  I don’t care where they’re from.”
–Dr. Abraham Erskine (Stanley Tucci) and Steve Rogers (Chris Evans), Captain America (2011)
With that one exchange, the filmmakers behind the recent screen adaptation of Joe Simon and Jack Kirby’s Captain America showed how Steve Rogers was a better hero than David Goyer and Zach Snyder’s Superman would ever be…in a single bound.

(While the focus of this article is a three-year old film, I would be remiss if I didn’t at least grant those who have not seen it respect enough to warn them of SPOILERS.)

 

Captain America is an amazing character.  Created at the close of 1940 and debuting in his own Timely (now Marvel) Comics comic book with a now iconic cover, Captain America began as an embodiment of American jingoism.  Captain America (“Cap”) soon became one of the most popular of the myriad patriotic-themed heroes that quickly cropped up after Hitler’s troops invaded Poland.

However, what makes Cap such an amazing character is not his apparent use as propaganda tool, but the very resistance to such politics.  Several times over, Cap, or his alter ego Steve Rogers, has resigned his Captain America guise in favor of alternative identities whenever he found himself at odds with a presidential or governmental edict.  In recent years, Cap was even arrested after leading a super hero resistance group when the government mandated that all “supers” must reveal their identities publicly.

Despite the roots behind his creation, Cap has morphed into something greater than a spokesperson for a country: he exists as a vanguard for people…all people.  Cap is a model soldier, but hugely aware of the absolute need for fairness and justice.  Cap is an imperfect hero, but as a soldier even he must make decisions and act in ways that he might not be proud of.

With Axis spies wreaking havoc on American shores, a group of desperate military leaders joins an FBI agent in traveling to a strange curio ship in an unknown city.  In the basement is a secret laboratory where a group of people, including the men from the military and FBI, sit in a waiting room and watch a procedure through a large window.  On the other side is a doctor and a frail young man.  The young man drinks a mysterious serum, and miraculously changes into a virile, muscular man.  The doctor dubs him “Captain America,” just as a spy shoots the doctor through the glass, killing him.  The young man grabs the spy through the glass and punches him into some of the lab equipment, which electrocutes the spy.

Although he will be the only super-soldier, Captain America becomes the country’s greatest weapon against spies and saboteurs.  In his guise as Private Steve Rogers, he befriends camp mascot “Bucky” Barnes, who hopes to meet Cap one day, and fight bad guys just like his idol.  One night, Bucky walks in on Steve as he changes into his Captain America costume.  Steve tells Bucky that he cannot reveal this secret to anyone, and he agrees to let Bucky be his partner, and a comic book legend was born.

As is customary in comics, Cap’s origin has been retold and expanded countless times.  What began as an eight page introduction to the character in the first issue of his own comic book has been fleshed out, reimagined, and lengthened to well over one hundred pages.  Steve Rogers was given a backstory that included growing up in the Great Depression era neighborhood of Brooklyn, NY, dreaming of making a difference, a difference that could not be made with his original 70-pound asthmatic frame.

Rogers was made a Private in the army and assigned to Camp Lehigh.  In order to preserve his secret identity he adopts an affable, yet bumbling, persona.  It should be noted that this type of secret identity adoption was a status quo begun by Siegel and Shuster’s Superman / Clark Kent, and would remain the industry standard until the “Marvel Age” began with the Fantastic Four, Iron Man, Spider-Man, etc, where the secret identities were flawed characters before becoming heroes, and not the disguises heroes adopted to preserve their privacy.)

In recent years, as Cap’s origin has been reshaped, so too has Bucky’s.  Barnes began as a camp mascot, and recently was smartly reimagined as a black-ops specialist and assassin who would do the dirty work while Cap remained the clean and supposedly unsullied reputation and representative of a nation.

After years of fighting his enemies, including the Nazi agent and assassin known as the Red Skull or leading Nazi scientist Baron Zemo, Bucky and Cap perished as they tried desperately to defuse a bomb attached to a new experimental plane.  Or…so we thought.

In Avengers #4 from early 1964, after battling the Sub-Mariner, the Avengers were returning to their headquarters in a submarine when they find a man floating in a block of ice.  That man is Steve Rogers, wearing a tattered Captain America costume.  Cap, revived but distraught at the passing of his young friend, joins the Avengers and begins a long period of adaptation to a world that had passed him by, a world where the evils he once knew had given way to a new kind of adversary.

Along the way, his sense of justice and fairness would become even more important, and grow to be bigger and more meaningful than any color scheme dyed into his costume.

Cap’s early popularity as Timely’s figurehead character was cemented when Cap was chosen to be Timely’s first adaptation into a different medium.  In the comics, Cap fought all manner of Axis (and eventually Communist) enemies.  In his first live action adaptation, the 1944 serial simply titled Captain America, his enemy was far more…traditional.  Ask some fans, and they might even say the real villain was Republic Pictures.

Republic cobbled together failed scripts for two other properties, and made slight revisions to accommodate Captain America as the lead character.  However, because of the work that would be required to fully adapt the script to the comic book character’s origin and design, almost all of it was scrapped.  In the serial, District Attorney Grant Gardner disguises himself as Captain America (replacing the shield with a handgun) to use methods he can’t use as the D.A.  For both Gardner and Captain America the main goal is finding and arresting The Scarab, a scientist bent on…well…in true cliffhanger serial fashion, we never really know what the Scarab wants.

It would be 22 years before Cap returned to motion pictures, in the short-lived Marvel Super Heroes animated series, which were little more than loosely animated cut-outs of then-recent Jack Kirby comics.  Cap would make guest appearances in other cartoons featuring Spider-Man or the Fantastic Four, but never headline his own television series.

In 1979, piggybacking on the popularity of the live-action Spider-Man and Incredible Hulk television series, two television movies starring Cap were produced.  Captain America and its sequel Captain America II: Death Too Soon featured athlete-turned-actor Reb Brown.  While Brown did play super-serum recipient Steve Rogers, the similarities become more infrequent from there.

As the world changed around Cap, and the idea of a super hero clad in the American flag became more ludicrous than ever, Cap’s popularity waned in general.  By the mid-1980s the comic book was enjoying a mild resurgence thanks to writer Mark Gruenwald’s examination of deeper social and political themes, and a new feature film was planned for theatrical release.

However, the eventual 1989 production was a failure from the start.  While Matt Salinger’s Steve Rogers does follow the traditional origin somewhat closely, it diverges sharply in other key areas and motivations, and is basically remembered as just one of many failed Marvel movies in a dark period when rival DC Comics was winning the movie battle with its wildly successful Batman films.

After a fairly arduous process that began in the mid-1990s, Captain America: The First Avenger starring Chris Evans as Steve/Cap was released in 2011 as part of a new Marvel: Phase One scheme that would lead to Cap joining The Avengers.  The film grossed nearly $400 Million, and Evans was signed to play Cap five more times.

The 2011 adaptation opens with a modern Arctic expedition uncovering a mysterious airship buried in the ice.  Inside the cabin, they find encased in some ice an object decorated with a white star surrounded by rings of red, white, and blue.  One of the men orders a call be placed to the Colonel, because “this one’s waited long enough.”  (A statement that could also be said of the character in general and his portrayal in motion pictures.)

Cut to a small Norwegian village in 1942 where Johan Schmidt, leading a handful of soldiers to pillage a cathedral, is searching for a Norse treasure.  The soldiers are not “average” Nazis, but soldiers of HYDRA, which we learn later is Hitler’s “deep science” organization, and Schmidt is the leader.  Schmidt locates the treasure: the Tesseract, direct from Odin’s throne room (as seen in the first Thor feature).  The Tesseract is described as an object not of magic, but of science.

There is a great line uttered by Schmidt in this scene that makes me think it’s a nod (or a “dig”) towards Belloq and his crew in Raiders of the Lost Ark: “…and the Fuhrer digs for trinkets in the dessert.”  Once he has obtained the Tesseract, Schmidt orders the village destroyed.  The camera pans, as cannons explode in the background, to the HYDRA pin on Schmidt’s coat, the skull now stained red with blood.  It isn’t at all a subtle foreshadowing, but it is still effective.

At the same time, in New York City, a very frail and slight Steve Rogers is volunteering for the armed forces.  He is rejected despite his desire to join the 107th Infantry (where his father died).  He takes in a movie afterward, and during the newsreel on the war effort, a man in the audience yells for the cartoons to start.  Rogers tells him to shut up, leading to a fight out in the alley behind the theater.

One of the nice moments in this scene is not the obvious synching of the voice over from a newsreel about not backing down from a fight just as the bully rises to face Rogers, but the other filmgoers around them.  As the newsreel plays footage of the war, and of homefront efforts to help the cause, the faces of the filmgoers reflect a number of emotions, from angst to sorrow.  Some of the ladies in the audience are in tears, and some of the older men are nervous.  Most filmmakers might not bother with much direction for extras, but director Joe Johnston does a nice job with this scene in presenting a broader canvas of emotions over the whole crowd, and not just letting the hero be our only guide.

(This isn’t really a surprise.  Johnston is a fine filmmaker, but this level of attention to detail comes from years spent in visual effects, his biggest job being to bring giant four-legged walking tanks to life on the non-existent planet Hoth.)

In the alley, Rogers is bravely standing up to a fairly nasty beating at the bully’s hands.  At one point (again, not subtly) Rogers picks up a trash can lid and wields it like a shield.  The bully asks him why he doesn’t know when to give up, and Rogers replies “I could do this all day.”

These are not great lines in the history of cinematic dialogue, but they are delivered in a convincing manner.  This is the essence of Johnston’s direction: no matter how hokey or tongue-in-cheek something might be within the story, the actors are directed in such a way that it never feels like someone on the production is rolling their eyes, or winking behind the camera at the audience.  The sincerity behind the characters and their actions comes across as entirely genuine and unforced.  It adds to both the credibility of the story and the enjoyment of the film.  That sincerity was carried over very well by Joss Whedon for The Avengers, and I hope to find the same with Winter Soldier.

Rogers’ best friend Bucky Barnes arrives in the nick of time to easily dispatch the bully (“I had him on the ropes,” Rogers tells Bucky) and collect Rogers for their double date celebrating Bucky’s orders to join the 107th.  We get a brief glimpse into the friendship between the two, and it is a nice change for the mythos to have Bucky be the protector in the relationship, a reversal of the nearly 75-year history of the characters.

Rogers and Bucky are headed to the “World of Tomorrow” exhibition, which presents two examples of Marvel’s “shared universe” theory that has served it well in the comics, and now again in the films.  First, and most obviously, the presentation of a flying car by Howard Stark, who we know from the Iron Man series is Tony Stark’s father, and the inventor of the repulsor technology used by Tony to develop the Iron Man armor.

The second link, and one missed by many who saw the film, is a nod to the Invaders, the anti-Axis team of heroes led by Cap during World War II.  Cap’s teammates in the Invaders varied, but the core group was himself and Bucky, the Sub Mariner, and the Human Torch, and Torch’s sidekick Toro.  The Human Torch was actually an android who burst into flames on command, and could also control those flames as well as fly.  The Torch was the creation of Dr Phineas Horton, who was considered a failure when his android burst into flames upon activation.  As the camera pans to Bucky and Rogers with their dates as they run up to Stark’s exhibit, we pass over an exhibit labelled “Dr. Phineas Horton Presents ‘The Synthetic Man’.”  I can only hope that the Invaders (my favorite super-team) are at least mentioned in an upcoming Marvel film.

When the crowd is observing Stark’s experiment go awry, Rogers sneaks off for one more attempt at enlisting.  There is a display featuring a painting of a soldier with no head, and when someone stands on a plate in front of the painting, their face appears in the mirror to fill out the image.  When Rogers stands on it, only his hair is visible.  This reinforces the dichotomy of stature for Rogers, and foreshadows the soldier he will literally grow into becoming.  Bucky chides his friend for trying again to enlist, and Rogers states with conviction that there are men laying down their lives over in Europe, and he has no right to do anything less.

This exchange, overheard by a physician, reveals that Rogers’ desperation to enlist has nothing to do with a knee-jerk reaction to patriotic sloganeering, but a sense of honor and a desire to help tilt at the windmills of evil and do whatever it takes to make sure that those young men fighting overseas do not do so in vain.

We learn that the physician is Dr. Abraham Erskine, and he takes over Rogers’ physical and asks a simple question.  When Rogers replies “I don’t want to kill anybody,” the heroic nature of the titular character is set, and everything about him and his story simply makes sense.

An interlude between Schmidt and Dr. Arnim Zola shows a little of what they plan to do with the Tesseract, but also gives a nice nod to comic fans.  In the comics, Arnim Zola is a Nazi scientist who defies death by transferring his mind to a robot body.  That body, in a ludicrous, yet perfect, Jack Kirby design, features a giant screen on the chest, on which is displayed a video image of Zola’s head.  As this interlude begins, we first see Toby Jones’ Zola as a projection on a telescope screen.

What follows is a fairly standard series of scenes showing the hero-in-training, but thankfully Johnston tweaks the standard tropes and makes them entertaining and amusing without resorting to clownish audience manipulation.  First, a soldier who will bully Rogers frequently is disciplined by Agent Peggy Carter at the indoctrination of the soldiers into the division of potential recruits for Erskine’s experiments.  Colonel Phillips (Tommy Lee Jones) arrives to give a fairly by-the-book speech given as a voice over to more training scenes to explain the experiments and the purpose of them, and timed in such a way to provide supporting narration to those scenes.

One of the best scenes of this sequence is thankfully spared voice-over by Jones.  At the middle of a training run where Agent Carter precedes the running soldiers in a jeep, the Sergeant halts the squad at Camp Lehigh’s flag and offers a ride back with Carter to the soldier who captures the flag.  As all of the other soldiers try to climb the flagpole, Rogers hangs back, observing.  When the Sergeant orders the men back into formation, Rogers calmly walks up to the flagpole, and removes the pin keeping the pole upright.  The pole falls to the ground, and as before Rogers calmly walks to the end of the fallen pole, removes the flag, and with a kind “thank you, sir,” hands it to the sergeant and climbs into the back of Carter’s jeep.

This underscores an important theme in the film.  While a soldier’s job is to follow orders, and that is a valuable and important quality, the ability to innovate and think originally is equally important…if not more so.

The next scene reinforces this idea, when Phillips speaks highly of another candidate’s guts, determination, and ability to follow orders.  Erskine labels him simply as a bully, to which Phillips replies that you don’t win wars with niceness, but with guts.  He then throws a grenade into the squad, and Rogers is the only soldier not to dive for cover, instead diving on top of the grenade which is shortly revealed to be a dud.  “He’s still skinny,” Phillips says.

The night before the experiment, Erskine talks with Rogers, and implores to him that no matter what the future holds, Rogers must remain what Erskine believes him to be: a good man.  Erskine reminds us that the first country the Germans invaded was Germany itself, and that when someone is thrust into sudden power, it is their core qualities that are multiplied, and only a man who has never known such power will truly respect it.

The first arc ends with Erskine’s experiment in changing Rogers into a superhuman, with enhanced physical and mental abilities, shown to be a success.  However, a German spy shoots and kills Erskine before escaping with a vial of Erskine’s “super soldier” serum.  Rogers goes after him, and catches the spy, who kills himself with cyanide after declaring allegiance to HYDRA.  Phillips’ squad is changing its focus and going after HYDRA, while Rogers is made into a public relations symbol.

The USO-tour sequence is awkward and uncomfortable, reflecting Rogers’ own uncertainty at being a “dancing monkey” in tights.  This sequence is important, however, in understanding the character.  Surrounded by dancing girls, singers and a band, or acting in action films based around the growing legend of Captain America, Rogers begins to learn that the most important battlefield in any war is not the actual, physical fighting arena.  That battlefield is within the hearts and minds of the citizens of any country at war.  Constant vigilance must be kept to remind the country’s populace about why the war must be fought, lest that populace begin to think about the war on their own.  When citizens begin to ask even the simplest questions about any conflict, and support wanes in even the slightest degree, that war is lost.

It is in this period that Cap learns that the kids in the newsreels collecting scrap metal, or the folks watching the newsreels that aren’t fighting, still need a symbol to believe in.  This reinforces a recent shift in the comics that had Bucky doing the dirty work while Cap remained a figurehead.  He was certainly capable of doing the dirty work, but people need to believe their heroes are better than that.  People need to believe that their heroes will always find a way to solve a problem better than they could ever hope to.

This sequence also helps to underscore the bright costume Cap wears.  In one later scene, Cap is in the middle of a mission when an HYDRA agent is taken out by a sniper.  Basically, Cap is front-and-center as someone else does the killing necessary to keep Cap in the fight.

This aspect of warmongering, and its disconnect from the realities of war, are nicely touched on when Cap attempts to perform his act for a group of soldiers overseas.  Pelted with fruit, vegetables, and insults, Cap retreats from the stage, replaced by the dancing girls the soldiers really want to see.  A distraught Rogers is visited by Agent Carter backstage, and when she tells him that his audience was what was left of the 107th, Rogers’ moment of decision arrives.

Stark and Carter fly Rogers behind enemy lines in an attempt to rescue the missing soldiers of the 107th and, hopefully, Bucky.  In typical trial-by-fire fashion, Rogers successfully infiltrates the HYDRA facility, finds dozens of Allied soldiers and guides them to safety.  While he goes off to rescue Bucky, Cap finds a map of HYDRA facilities, and encounters Schmidt, escaping the exploding facility with Zola.

As Phillips is dictating a letter reporting Rogers dead, Rogers arrives at the base with the missing squads, and is cheered as a hero, as Captain America.  Following the ubiquitous Stan Lee cameo, Cap marks on a map the various locations of HYDRA bases and recruits a team of men from the 107th to join him in taking the fight to HYDRA.

The filmmakers handled Cap’s squad rather well, transposing the comic book “Howling Commandos” from a Nick Fury comic in the 60s.  There is a moment when the diversity of Kirby’s creations in the Commandos is maintained and justified for the film.  As Cap releases the captured soldiers, one of them turns to an Asian-American soldier and asks “what, are we taking everybody?”  Soldier Jim Morita replies, “I’m from Fresno, Ace.”  It’s a brief but well executed reminder that not all American soldiers were white males, and that even in the 1940s there were many different peoples who could rightly be considered American.

Jack Kirby was ahead of his time as an artist, but it is often forgotten that he was also forward thinking in his social beliefs, and it was refreshing to see that part of his work not be ignored for this film.

Another moment that works quite well is in the exploding HYDRA base, after Schmidt (now revealed to be the Red Skull) has fled.  Cap helps Bucky across the flames, and has to leap across the facility.  He backs up to get a running start, and for a brief moment, shows doubt.  It works simply because it helps reinforce the idea that Cap, despite being a dominating physical specimen, is just a young kid who is thrust into the role of hero despite being unsure of himself.  As he leaps, the flames engulf him, and Johnston cuts to another scene.  This hearkens back to the cliffhanger serials of old, where the audience knew the hero would be okay, but that moment of suspense was still tense.

At the bar where Cap asks his new friends to join his squad, Agent Carter pays Cap a visit, and the tables are turned from Rogers’ youth.  Carter arrives in a fetching red dress that catches the eye of everyone in the bar.  Despite Bucky’s attempts to get a dance from Carter, she and Rogers chat about a mundane meeting while ignoring everything else around them, particularly Bucky.

When Carter catches Rogers being kissed by another woman (Natalie Dormer in a rare fully-clothed role) the next day, she takes advantage of an opportunity to fire a gun at Rogers to “help” test a new shield.  She notes that it works, and walks away.  Rogers and Stark are left dumbfounded.  In a seemingly unimportant moment, the character of Peggy Carter is perfectly summed up: yes, she is a beautiful woman, but she is also truly a woman to never be trifled with or underestimated.

Several scenes follow that show the new Captain America and the Howling Commandos assaulting and overtaking several HYDRA bases, in a series of fun and action packed vignettes that even highlight each member of the Commandos.  One moment even provides a laugh as it is revealed that Cap keeps a photo of Peggy in his compass, and as Phillips sees this, Peggy fights to not react.  The Commandos are highly successful, suffering no casualties until an assault on Zola’s personal train.

The train with Zola was set up as a trap to kill Cap, but in the ambush, Cap is given an opportunity to save Bucky.  Bucky is trapped in a train car, pinned down by the gunfire of an HYDRA agent.  Cap breaks into the train car, and distracts the HYDRA soldier long enough for Bucky shoots the soldier.  Bucky tells Cap, “I had him on the ropes.”

Another HYDRA agent shows up, and fires a Tesseract powered cannon at them, blowing a hole into the train, and Bucky out said opening.  Bucky is unable to hold on, and falls to his death just before Cap can reach him.  Zola is captured, yielding a distraught but more motivated Rogers.

While not exactly the same fate as his comics counterpart, Bucky’s demise is handled very well, and the character of Bucky Barnes was fleshed out nicely in what is basically two brief periods in the film.  The filmmakers handle the relationship between Rogers and Barnes well, and none of it seems forced.  While the death was taken directly from the character’s comic history, the film does a nice job of making it Cap’s Kobayashi Maru moment (if you’ll pardon the crossing of nerd streams).

Motivated and emboldened by his friend’s death, Rogers leads his squad right into the main HYDRA base, not only taking the fight to the Red Skull, but shoving it down his throat.  Schmidt tries to escape in an advanced attack plane, but not before Cap gives chase, aided by Phillips and Carter.  Just before Cap jumps from a car onto the plane, Carter calls for him to wait.

She grabs Cap, and kisses him, and tells Cap to “go get him.”  While reminiscent of Leia’s kissing Luke “for luck,” this moment works far better because Cap, just like the young awkward man he really is inside, looks at Phillips with a “what do I do now” expression on his face.  Jones’ fantastic ability to deliver a funny line works to the filmmaker’s favor at this moment when he looks at Cap and says, “I’m not kissing you!”

That moment reminds us that while Cap has become a great war hero, he is still a naïve kid who, as Carter repeatedly says, doesn’t “know a bloody thing about women.”  The hero-kissing-the-girl moment is a standard film convention played for laughs, but still handled in such a way that it works perfectly within the confines of the character.

Cap leaps onto the plane, has a fairly long battle with the Skull’s minions (including a brief moment that pays homage to the infamous propeller scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark), and makes it to Schmidt and the plane’s cockpit.  The inevitable battle between Cap and the Red Skull results in the Skull’s death and Cap having to make a decision.  The plane will either destroy New York City with enough residual firepower to demolish surrounding cities, or Cap can force the plane to crash.

With Peggy on the radio, Cap asks for a rain check for their dance date, as he plunges the plane into frozen Arctic waters.  As the rest of the world celebrates victory in Europe, the Commandos toast the memory of their departed friends, and Peggy is presented with the original file on Captain America, which includes a photo of Rogers before Erskine’s experiment.  We fade out on a group of kids in Brooklyn playing Captain America, including a trash can lid painted to resemble Cap’s shield.

After a moment of darkness, Rogers wakes up in a room in New York, a Brooklyn Dodgers game on the radio.  Rogers realizes something is wrong, and escapes into the city, only to be faced with 21st century Times Square.  Colonel Nick Fury arrives to explain that Cap has been in suspended animation since the plane crash, and 70 years have passed.  The now common Marvel post-credit sequence sets up The Avengers, and Cap’s new role as the man out of time.

In general, Captain America is fairly typical introductory superhero film, following the generally accepted three-act standard used by most, if not all, modern action films.  Marvel has done a nice job bringing in filmmakers who understand this structure but who are also capable of adding elements of characterization or atmosphere that bring a greater plausibility to what is essentially epic fiction.

Chris Evans, who portrayed another version of the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four adaptations, shows he has enough range and skill to be more than a hunky centerpiece.  His portrayal of Cap as field general while letting Rogers’ naiveté show through is handled nicely, and never feels forced.  The contribution of the many visual effects personnel who transformed the fit and superheroic Evans (or, post-experiment Cap) into a frail and small-statured young man cannot be understated, which added much needed physical believability to Evans’ early scenes.  (Unlike Matt Salinger, who in the 1989 version simply limped, making his pre-experiment Rogers comical by comparison.)

Hugo Weaving is his usual intimidating and scene chewing self, and a more than able foil for Evans’ Cap.  Once he removes his mask to reveal his countenance that gave him the nickname Red Skull, Weaving does not fall into the trap of hamming it up to match his new, seemingly horrific appearance (as Jack Nicholson did in the first Batman film).

Tommy Lee Jones (Phillips), Sebastian Stan (Bucky), and Dominic Cooper (Howard Stark) round out the lead cast brilliantly.  Jones’ now legendary demeanor lends tremendous weight to Colonel Phillips, who also has the funniest lines of the film, but delivered earnestly and not with a wink and a nudge to the audience.  Stan apparently so impressed the Marvel producers as Bucky Barnes that they signed him to a new contract that includes an 8-option extension.  While fans of the comic book know what is possible, my hope is that we get at some point we get an actual Invaders film.  Cooper’s Howard Stark is done so well that it makes perfect sense that he’d be the father of Downey, Jr’s Tony.

The father figure to Rogers is Abraham Erskine, played by Stanley Tucci, who took the role mainly because he hadn’t used a German accent in a film before.  While it’s a particularly odd reason to accept a role, his presence lends gravitas to what is usually considered a throwaway character in the mythos.  In keeping with the Hero’s Journey formula, there is no way Erskine comes out of this story alive, but in the brief screen time he has, his impact on Rogers and his lasting influence on Cap’s character is as important as any aspect of Cap’s costume.

While screen time is seldom shared, this is a wonderful ensemble cast, and in all of my viewings of the film, I have never imagined what another actor could have done with any of these roles.  I do however find myself comparing it to previous film versions from time to time, and simply being thankful that they finally got it right.

One aspect of Captain America that makes it a far greater superhero film than anything Warner Bros and Christopher Nolan have done in the past decade or so is motivation.  In the recent Batman trilogy, and Man of Steel, both “heroes” had to be constantly reminded of the fact that they were heroes.  The final Batman film even begins with Alfred all but slapping Bruce Wayne upside the head for retiring from being batman because his knee hurt.

Rogers is motivated by his desire to make a difference and to not let other soldiers die for nothing.  He wants to do whatever he can to help, but unlike characters like Bruce Wayne or even Tony Stark, the means to do what he can to help aren’t always available.  When opportunities arise to make a difference he jumps at the chance, not to be a savior but to just help…his heroism isn’t explicit, but simply a by-product of his character.

Superman and Batman relied on intimidation and behaved far more like bullies than heroes, which makes the exchange cited at the beginning of this article between Erskine and Rogers all the more important: Bullies cannot be heroes, and heroes cannot be bullies.  I also find Nolan’s Superman a disingenuous person because he laments having to kill Zod after he allowed countless other residents of Metropolis and Smallville to die in his battle with Zod.  He can’t be considered a hero because he killed Zod after seemingly having no other options to end the violence.

By contrast, with New York City (and potentially many other nearby cities) at risk of destruction, Cap pilots the plane into the ocean and sacrifices himself in a far more heroic act.

(I must also mention the irony that the concept of a superman was developed by the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche and later used by Hitler’s forces as the idealized justification for their beliefs and actions.  HYDRA is the scientific wing of Nazi Germany, and is taken down by an Allied-made superman, who behaves more heroically than a character actually named “Superman.”)

As fantastic as the film is, and as much as Evans is the star, the real force behind the film may be Hayley Atwell’s Peggy Carter.  Atwell is a beautiful woman, but in Captain America she is far more than just the pretty love interest.

In four films, Nolan presented viewers with several female characters: Rachel, Catwoman and Miranda in the Batman films; Lois, Martha and Faora in Man of Steel.  The strongest female characters were villains, and the supposedly positive female leads were at best presented as meddling, until the male lead shows up, at which point they turned into wistful swooners.  In other words, women in the Nolanverse are afterthoughts, distractions, or plot devices.

It makes perfect sense that Captain America wouldn’t have many female characters considering its WW2 battlefield setting.  However, as any hero’s journey needs a love interest, the filmmakers bucked a trend and crafted a love interest for our hero who could very easily handle being the hero in her own story.

The moment Agent Peggy Carter is introduced, Johnston wastes no time in letting us know she is not a woman to be trifled with.  The same soldier who bullied Rogers during training makes fun of Carter, and makes inappropriate advances towards her.  She responds by punching him, just once, and flattening him.

Rogers is amused and impressed, and in a rare moment for films, Carter’s physical takedown of a harasser is verbally applauded by her male superior, Colonel Phillips.  He is neither intimidated nor concerned that a young woman can hold her own with the boys.  It was very refreshing to see this in a movie, when normally such female strength is dismissed or mocked in an effort to put ladies “in their place.”

Time and time again Carter is shown to be a formidable soldier, a deft leader, and unflappable in a conflict.  She is also not a shrinking violet towards Rogers.  When a female clerk takes advantage of Rogers by kissing him, Carter’s reaction is not over-the-top, but does remind Rogers she is not to be messed with: she shoots at him several times when Rogers is testing new shields.  Rogers (and Howard Stark’s) reaction is priceless: awe.

The courtship, as it were, between Rogers and Carter is also unforced and charming.  They are clearly interested in each other, but where Rogers is too naïve to know what to do, Carter is too professional to let romance interfere with getting the job done.

It is only when Cap decides to drive the plane into the ocean that Carter shows any sign of emotion, but even then she is hoping an alternative will present itself before it’s too late.  Phillips, showing he’s more than just a heartless soldier, clears the radio room to allow Carter and Rogers to have a private moment.

One female lead character in a very male-centric action film was more of a role model, and more of a fully realized individual, than every female character in all four of Nolan’s DC Comics superhero films.

That is one of the keys to the successful adaptation of this character to the screen.  Captain America is a seemingly jingoistic character who in actuality is a champion for equality and opportunity for all people, not just those in power.  Joe Johnston, who showed an affinity for the 1940s with his adaptation of The Rocketeer to screens in 1990, does the same for Captain America.  Not only does Captain America’s 1940s seem authentic yet modern, the emotions and characters of the era presented in a way that seems fresh and not at all old fashioned.  The action sequences are well-shot and choreographed, and homage is subtly given to the fantastic and eclectic design of Jack Kirby and Joe Simon.

Captain America may not be the most financially successful part of the Marvel cinematic universe, but it might just be the most well-made film Marvel has yet to make, and is a perfect adaptation of a character often misunderstood in the comic book world.  It should go without saying that I am very much looking forward to seeing what Evans can do with the character in the remaining four films he is slated to portray the Star Spangled Man With The Plan.

OR:  As Zod Is My Witness, A Man of Steel Debrief

IMDB link to Man of Steelhttp://www.imdb.com/title/tt0770828/

NOTE: This review contains several spoilers, from seemingly insignificant moments to major plot elements.  With the movie out in wide release on various media formats, it would seem silly to make this declaration, but in the interest of fairness, consider this your SPOILER ALERT.

While Superman is far from my favorite comic book character, I have fond memories of watching Kirk Alyn, George Reeves, Christopher Reeve and even Brandon Routh making me believe in a man from another world who was larger than life…and could fly.

Now, it is another Christopher, Nolan, who has left me disappointed and angry.  More so than the stereotypical “nerdrage” that erupts with every new project featuring superheroes or Science Fiction icons.  But, the blame is not all Nolan’s.  He had help.

I’m going to address some of the more blatant examples of poor filmmaking, confused and forced storytelling and direction, and themes in “real time,” concluding with an overall explanation of why this film is not the standard bearer for bad adaptations from the comics.  (It should be noted that I make that statement having seen the 1998 telefilm Nick Fury Agent of SHIELD featuring David Hasselhoff.)

Man of Steel begins with the birth of a child.  In a large, stark room, Lara is in the process of bearing a son, while Jor El dotes and hovers, waiting for their child to emerge.  Around them are a pair of floating objects we learn are Jor El’s helper robots, for want of a better term.  These robots convey information in a rather odd manner: they seem to solidify three-dimensional images out of a mercury-like substance, a process that reminded me of the X-Men’s tactical table display from the first X-Men trilogy, or even more basically those “make a beard” magnetic toys from days past.

The child is successfully born, and the creatures of Krypton (not unlike the jungle creatures in the Lion King) react as if they are keenly aware that this is the first time an infant has cried.  It is revealed later, in a muddled moment of dialogue that took two viewings to understand, that this is the first child born naturally on Krypton in generations.

We immediately transition to an area of Krypton that brings to mind the planet Coruscant in Lucas’ Star Wars prequel trilogy, before we enter a chamber not unlike the Jedi Counsel of said trilogy.  Although, this counsel looks more like the Timelords of Gallifrey adorned in the robes of Rassilon.  Jor El is imploring the counsel that Krypton is doomed, due any moment for destruction.  In this version of the Superman mythos, the planet is decaying from within, due to years of “core harvesting” by the Kryptonians.  The counsel argues that as the planet’s energy reserves had been depleted there was no other option but to harvest the core’s energy.  Jor El, clearly frustrated by the shortsightedness of the counsel, berates the counsel for not looking to the stars for a solution: there are other worlds suitable for Kryptonian life upon which to colonize and save the Kryptonian race.

At that moment, Zod barges into the chamber, declares the counsel disbanded, and kills the counsel’s leader.  Zod, perhaps channeling John Winthrop or Cotton Mather, believes that the counsel has betrayed Krypton with endless debates and degenerate living.  He proposes that Jor El join him in saving the Kryptonian people.

Based on his performance, I can only assume that Michael Shannon watched a lot of Malcolm McDowell movies prior to filming.  I am not familiar with Shannon or his work, but everything about this performance harkened to either McDowell’s portrayal of Alex from A Clockwork Orange, or his turn as Tolian Soren in Star Trek Generations (an ironic turn, as Soren tried to destroy a galaxy to rejoin his people, a comparison that will be made clearer later).

Jor El refuses Zod’s offer, calling him a monster for taking up arms against his own people.  Zod has Jor El arrested and home, where Jor El escapes with the aid of a fancy doorbell.  Jor El calls his wife and tells her to ready the launch, and he runs off onto a platform outside his home to see Krypton already in the throes of a violent civil war.

Jor El calls to a creature that is the apparent love child of a dragon from Game of Thrones and an X-Wing fighter.  He flies off to some crater, and dives into a swamp-like area filled with gestating infants, swimming past these pod-children into another chamber.  This chamber houses a skull, floating in mid-air, in suspension between a series of tentacles.  Jor El grabs the skull, and escapes to the lip of the crater.  Zod’s men catch him, but he leaps off of the cliff and is caught by his dragon-thing, and returns to his home, dodging quite a bit of stray weapons fire along the way.  Jor El is remarkably unhurt, but the creature is shot and presumably dies.  Jor El places the skull into a device hovering above the capsule containing his son.  In his absence, Lara has found a world on which he him to live.  Jor El realizes that his son will be superior to the seemingly intelligent population when his son’s cells drink in the sun’s radiation.

Lara worries that her child will be a freak and the people of this new world will kill him.

“No,” Jor El replies, “he’ll be a god to them.”

Lara is having second thoughts, and Jor El reminds her that Krypton is doomed.  With several of Zod’s ships approaching, they set up the escape ship, install the skull (referred to as the “codex”), and infuse their son with its energy.  A key emerges from the computer bearing the iconic S symbol.  Jor El kisses his son, bids him goodbye, and tells him that all his hopes and dreams travel with the boy.

Jor El then dons a suit of armor in a process that so resembles the Iron Man suit application all that it is missing is an arc reactor.  Zod arrives to threaten Jor El, and he learns that Jor El and Lara had a son by natural birth.  Zod proclaims the child should be killed, as such a birth is heresy.  Jor El and Zod battle while Lara launches the space pod. The pod is launched, and Zod lashes out, killing Jor El.  Lara runs to the body of her husband, and tells Zod that Kal, the son of El, is beyond Zod’s reach.

Zod is captured and tried for treason and murder, and sentenced to the Phantom Zone.  As Zod and his people are covered in a crystalline coffin, Zod assures Lara that he will find Kal and reclaim the Kryptonian codex.  Zod and his forces are launched into space, through a gateway into the Phantom Zone that looks an awful lot like the lightning storm in space from which the Romulan ship emerged in the beginning of the Abrams reboot of Star Trek.

Almost immediately, Krypton begins to explode, and standing in her home, watching everything end, Lara looks to the sky and tells her son to “make a better world than ours,” as the pod containing her son emerges in our solar system from a wormhole, and lands in a field near a farm.

Producer Christopher Nolan, writer David Goyer (who is responsible, ironically, for the aforementioned Hasselhoff SHIELD travesty), and director Zack Snyder have packed a lot of stuff into this opening twenty minute sequence.  Much of it seems unnecessary.  Much of the Superman mythos centers on his being a stranger in a strange land, and not really knowing that much about his heritage.  All we knew before the mid-1980s is that he is from Krypton, and the difference in solar radiation allows him to do amazing things.  When DC Comics rebooted their various universes in the then-groundbreaking storyline Crisis On Infinite Earths, writer and artist John Byrne greatly expanded the role of and knowledge about Krypton to readers and Superman.  More recently, writer Mark Waid did a fantastic job reimagining the origin of the character in Superman: Birthright.  Many of the story elements, plot points, and even dialogue, created by Waid are present in Man of Steel, but there is no attribution or even thanks given Waid by Goyer, Snyder or Nolan in the credits.

Superman has always been an American retelling of the Christ story reimagining the birth of Christ and his ascension to savior, altering it for a new scientific age.  Jor El loved his only child and gave him to our world to save us.  That child would grow up to be a champion of good, someone to help us solve our problems with peace and kindness.  Superman allowed us to look to the stars for salvation, but instead of a deity, we looked towards Krypton for the coming savior.  In this version, we even see Jor El and Lara alone in a room (not a manger, at least), bringing forth a child born of what could be construed as immaculate, given the way in which Kryptonian children at this time are born.

However, this is the first adaptation for screen that has blatantly stated that Superman will be a god.  This is also the first time the story of the flood and Noah have been woven in to the Kryptonion saga.

The Kryptonian codex is the repository of all knowledge on Krypton, much like the Ark of the Covenant is the repository for the commandments of God.  Jor El takes this knowledge and infuses it into the space pod (and later we learn, into the child himself).  Kal El then is launched away from the destruction, carrying the hope of Krypton with him.  While he did not carry any of krypton’s creatures two-by-two, Kal did carry the genetic coding of Krypton’s people, thanks to the infusion of the genetic material the codex was holding for the infants born into the aforementioned swamp-cave-thing.  In essence, Kal is both the savior (Christ) and the Ark.

This begets a unique problem in this version of the mythos.  We learn from later story beats that Kal does not need to be alive for the coding to be removed from his DNA and the Kryptonian people to be reborn.  In other words, Kal would be sacrificing himself to save his people.

This Biblical back-and-forth gets more confused and muddled as the story progresses, and the religious imagery becomes stronger as it also becomes more contradictory.  For example, in the very next scene Snyder presents to us a grown-up Clark as another religious icon.  While saving workers on an exploding oil rig in the middle of the ocean, Clark rips open the door to the chamber where the workers are hiding, waiting for their demise.  Clark stands in the open door, engulfed in flames but not burning, and leads the workers to safety, much like the bush at Mount Horeb instructed Moses to lead the Israelites to safety from Egypt.

This is where the film, and more importantly Snyder’s direction and style, begins to be a complete mess.  Nolan has proven he can tell a non-linear story with Memento, but the second arc of Man of Steel poorly jumps through various memories of Clark’s childhood, interspersing with recent events that play out like an episode of the Bill Bixby Hulk show.  Following the rescue of the oil rig workers, Clark emerges on an island wearing nothing but ripped pants.  He steals clothes from a nearby clothes line, and begins to work at various odd jobs around the area, trying desperately not to succumb to any violent urges lest he hurt someone.

At this stage, certain visual cues remind Clark of events from his childhood, including moments when his powers began to manifest.  Another memory triggered is of a terrifying bus crash, where the school bus in which his class rides falls from a bridge and plummets into the river below.  Clark pushes the bus to safety while his classmates watch, and then he goes back to save a young man, Pete Ross, who has been bullying Clark for years.

Pete’s mother visits the Kents, and calls what Clark did an act of God, of divine providence.  Jonathan Kent then goes to find Clark, and gives us the first real moment in the film in which the creators of the film challenge their own assertion that Superman is Christ.

Jonathan Kent chastises his son for what he did, and Clark responds “what was I supposed to do, let them die?”  Jonathan responds, “maybe.”  This moment was featured prominently in the trailers, and is exactly the moment when the film entirely went off the rails for me, on several levels, including one of nerdrage.

If we are to believe that Superman is Christ, then at no point should he ever be made to doubt that he should do anything other than help people and be an example for how we should behave towards each other.  For Jonathan Kent to say that hiding Clark’s secret was more important than any one life (or more) is appalling.  It certainly seems to me to be a very un-Christian sentiment.  Also, it doesn’t make sense that he tells Clark that he is meant for great things and he will be the savior of the people, but don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.

It is here that we also begin to see a common problem in the Nolan-Goyer cannon: unmotivated heroes.

Nolan and Goyer’s Batman had to be reminded constantly of why the world needed Batman, and that Bruce Wayne couldn’t simply slink away when things weren’t fun, got tough, or his knee hurt.  Here, Nolan and Goyer are giving Clark mixed messages constantly, with one parent (Jor El) telling him he’s a god and to go out and do good, and another (Jonathan) constantly worrying that his son not  do anything that might get him noticed, even if he’s saving a life in the process.  It is this dichotomy that leads to one of my more anger-inducing moments in the film coming up in the third act.

At this point in the film, we get the first (and probably only) real “homage” to Donner’s Superman 2.  Clark tells a bar patron to stop harassing a waitress, and the patron pours his beer over Clark’s head.  Clark simply leaves, but his “last laugh” is revealed later when the patron emerges from the bar to find his truck destroyed and, well, crucified on giant logs.  I use quotes to say homage here because director Snyder is fairly notorious for being classless and disrespectful to his peers and cinematic forebears.  If this was an homage, it’s not a good one, and I suspect it was less an homage than something writer Goyer injected in hopes of appearing clever.  From here, we are finally introduced to Lois Lane, the only other character to have appeared with Superman in the 75 year history of Superman comics.

Despite that history, and the rich history of the Lois character, I must note that like the Batman films, this new Superman interpretation has no females of consequence within the story.  Lara and Martha kowtow to the demands and wishes of their husbands at every turn, and in the sole moment where Martha is shown to be a maternal figure, it’s done only at a point of weakness for Clark when his powers manifest, and he is confused.  Lois has one very brief moment in which filmmakers try to present her as an equal to the men in the scene, primarily Chris Meloni’s Colonel Hardy.  Sadly, they chose to do this not in a scene in which she shows she is intelligent, or has the experience needed to complete a task, but with a crass comment about genitalia.  Almost immediately after that scene, Lois reverts to the stereotype for women in action films made by old white guys: that of a meddlesome female who gets herself into trouble and desperately needs a man to save her (even if she doesn’t realize it).  This is not only a tired stereotype, it’s insulting and degrading.  Lois Lane is a phenomenal investigative reporter, and is written and portrayed best as an equal (or superior) to Clark in all things but his superpowers.  She is not a damsel in distress, but that is apparently all these filmmakers think of her.  Amy Adams’ Lois seems to exist to be the pretty girl for Superman to save, or be used to lure Superman in to the grasp of the government or Zod’s people.

If you think I’m overreacting to nonexistent misogyny, consider that there is only one female character not hampered by this stereotype, and that is Zod’s lieutenant Faora Ul who resembles in character Glenn Close’s Alex Forrest as much as she physically resembles Sarah Douglas’ Ursa.  She is not a positive character, and we root for her to be defeated while the other female characters are not given personalities that make us want to root for them.  This was a problem in the other Nolan-Goyer films as well.  The style and design of the Faora Ul character I believe are the result of the same sensibilities that led Snyder to write and direct Sucker Punch, which has its own problems with the presentation and treatment of women.  (This treatment of women in the Nolan-Goyer films is one I find slightly amusing thanks to Snyder’s depiction of Krypton.  Everything of Krypton, the ships, the robots, everything, is designed to look like genitalia, primarily the female genitalia and birth canal.)

This overall issue of this new Superman-Lois-Clark dynamic begins with DC Comics, which recently rebooted their entire canon under the “New 52” banner, which included an edict that Superman and Lois must not be married, nor can they have any real relationship between them at all that resembles anything from the previous 70 years.

However, in a film (and series if you include Nolan and Goyer’s Batman trilogy) in which almost every supporting character is perceptually unimportant to the story or the main character, this should not be a surprise.  I feel the need to mention that this is the filmmaker’s greatest failing outside the thematic elements of the Superman character itself: there is not a single character within this story that I wanted to root for…or care about.

Lois is investigating why the military is in Canada looking into a weird discovery buried in the ice.  Clark is there working under a different name for the scientific company also investigating.  Lois goes exploring, and Clark is also trying to discover what is so familiar about the structure buried under the ice.  Clark saves Lois from one of the security drones, and takes Lois to safety.  Clark then returns and activates a device that launches an interactive hologram of Jor El and sends the ship elsewhere.

When her editor won’t print her story, Lois finds a guy running a Drudge-like web site and gives him the story.  Meanwhile, Clark interacts with the hologram, which proceeds to tell Clark all about his heritage and why he is where he is, and who he is.  The hologram goes on for just long enough for you to wonder if he’s also going to give Clark a recipe for Lara’s party dip.

(Here is one of Snyder’s biggest editing flaws.  The sequence in which Lois gets back to Metropolis, writes her story, and then gives it to someone else takes place in the same span of time in which Clark, after leaving her in Canada as the ship takes off, simply turns around to talk to the Jor El hologram.  In other words, ten seconds takes place with Superman while several days pass for Lois.  And Clark didn’t even spin the Earth backwards to make the timing work.)

“Not” Jor El tells Clark that Clark’s name is really Kal El, and explains that Kal El not only represents Krypton’s last hope, he actually IS their world’s last hope.  It is revealed that Krypton explored other worlds and reshaped the world’s environments to suit the needs of Kryptonians.  In essence, Kryptonians took over other planets.  Eventually they decided to legislate birth control and the actual birth process, and they stopped exploring other worlds.  Exhausting the natural resources led to the planet’s destruction, and Kal was to be saved.  Jor El reveals they are standing in a genesis chamber where all life begins, and children are engineered to play a particular and precise role in society.

Jor El explains that he and Lara believed that Krypton had lost its freedom to choose, so they had Kal in secret, in hopes that the child would dream to be something greater.  Kal/Clark would embody Jor El and Lara’s dream of a better world and the ideals he had learned growing up on Earth.  Jor El then presents Clark with a suit and tells him the S symbol means hope, and that it was up to Clark to be a symbol of hope and a force for good.  (Note that the language is clear in Jor El’s words: he is to be a force for good, not an example.)

This sequence makes my head hurt.  In one monologue, Jor El has embraced and forsaken, declared and contradicted, nearly every aphorism and truism espoused by Democrats and Republicans, Christians and Atheists, everyone.  Political hot button issues like state-legislated birth control is paired and contradicted with the concept of freedom of choice.  Intelligent design and scientific genetic engineering are paired up and then smacked down by ideas of destiny.  None of it makes sense, and seems like Nolan and Goyer are trying to backpedal from every Biblical allegory they’ve made up to now.

From there we are led through another round of backstory jumping that reveals just how Jonathan Kent died.  Jonathan forbade Clark from helping people during a tornado, while he went and rescued a dog.  Once again, Jonathan was more concerned with the safety and anonymity of his family than the safety of a greater number of people within the community, when at both times it was possible for Clark to save people and not completely give himself away.

This scene bestowed upon Jonathan Kent a holier-than-thou attitude and martyrdom that is unbecoming of the original character.  Jonathan Kent until this movie was portrayed as Clark’s moral center, the real influence for Clark to be Superman and embody the ideals for which the character is generally known.  Here, Jonathan represents the ambiguity of fear: being afraid of people finding out what kind of person you are, being afraid to do the right thing, being afraid of the very people you could help.

It takes a tremendous threat for Clark to reveal himself as Superman, and even then…he doesn’t react as the hero we are used to Superman being.  But…more on that later.  As Lois finds Clark, and decides after a few moments of dialogue exchanged with him to abandon her story entirely to protect him, the world is irreversibly thrust into the greater universe.

A spaceship emerges in the Earth’s atmosphere, and a broadcast spreads to all television screens and radio stations, revealing that Earth is not alone in the universe, and that Zod demands that Kal El surrenders himself.  The world goes into a panic, and the aforementioned Drudge-like blogger reveals that Lois Lane knows where Kal El is hiding.

Another flashback of Clark being bullied is presented, and it is suggested that the bully is now a priest, who is cleaning up a church into which Clark comes seeking guidance.  The scene is filmed in such a way that close ups of Clark have over his shoulder a stained glass image of Jesus praying for guidance.  The pastor advises that trust comes after a leap of faith.  Clark, dressed as Superman, surrenders to the military provided they guarantee Lois’ freedom.

Here we get the “it stands for hope” moment ubiquitous in trailers, in a scene that has Superman gaining (at least minimally) the military’s trust, but not before Superman threatens the military’s notion that he is their prisoner or that they could do anything to him.  Cut to the outside of the base, where Superman waits for Zod.  The minor version of Ursa, Faora Ul, comes out of Zod’s ship and accepts Superman’s surrender and demands Lois join them.  Lois and Superman are taken to Zod’s ship.  It is at this point that Snyder gives us the best evidence that Zod is evil: he’s grown a goatee.

On the ship, Superman gets ill as he has adapted to Earth’s environment and the Kryptonian atmosphere on the ship is making him sick, and he collapses and passes out.  Clark “wakes up” out of his suit outside the Kent farm, where Zod explains how he escaped the Phantom Zone and found Clark.  He reveals that all of Krypton’s genetic codes are embedded in Clark, and that Earth will be Krypton’s new home, and that Earth will be destroyed in the process.  Superman then sinks into a sea of skulls while Zod watches.  Superman wakes up tied to a table and Zod reveals it was he who killed Jor El and that nothing will get in the way of his carrying out his plan to resurrect Krypton.  Here, the genesis references are taken literally, as Zod’s plan is taken directly from the Genesis Device plot element of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

Lois, held prisoner elsewhere on the ship, activates the code key slipped to her by Superman earlier, and Jor El appears to help Lois escape in one of the film’s stranger sequences.  Jor El waves his hands around a lot, opening and closing doors to protect and steer Lois, and getting her to an escape pod while explaining to her the best way to stop Zod, becoming a weird mash up of Yoda and traffic cop.

As Superman’s powers come back when the atmosphere on the ship is breached, Jor El tells him he can be the bridge of hope between Earth and Krypton, and oh-by-the-way that’s his girlfriend plummeting to earth from the ship.  Superman saves her in the nick of time, and drops her off near the Kent farm.  Zod’s people arrive at Martha Kent’s home to look for the codex, and in threatening Martha, begins the third act of the film.

The third act has accurately been described as “disaster porn,” and is nothing more than Superman and Zod beating the crud out of each other, laying waste to Kansas and then Metropolis.  Zod’s people also attack Superman, but also go after townspeople.  Faora Ul tells Superman that because he has a sense of morality towards Earthlings, she and Zod have “an evolutionary advantage.”  Nolan and Goyer have almost literally made the Superman mythos into a Creationism-versus-Darwinism fistfight (complete with Klingon-esque platitudes about death and victory).

Aside from the occasional interlude from a human or two, the next forty minutes exist purely to show Kryptonians demolishing our planet while trying to destroy each other.  The violence is staggering, and the cavalier way in which Nolan, Goyer and Snyder present this sequence and the destruction therein is sickening.

The destruction is so grotesque, that a specialist was called in by the web site BuzzFeed to assess the damage.  Charles Watson of Watson Technical Consulting estimated human casualties to range from a minimum of 125,000 dead to 1.4 Million dead and injured.  The financial cost of the damage was estimated to be roughly $2 Trillion.  (http://www.buzzfeed.com/jordanzakarin/man-of-steel-destruction-death-analysis)

There is a brief interlude where Clark returns home to check on his mom before flying off to Metropolis, and one of Zod’s men reveals to Zod that Kal El is the codex, and does not need to live for Zod’s plan to work.  Zod tells his people to release the “world engine” that will rework Earth into a new Krypton.  The world engines start attacking the planet just like the Romulan drill engine from Abrams’ Trek reboot.  Lois literally gives the military the key to stopping the machines, and Superman takes off to stop Zod.

While Metropolis begins to crumble, crushing people in the streets, Zod debates the merits of genocide with the hologram of Jor El.  Zod erases the Jor El program from the computer and flies off to finalize his plan of destruction.

There is an odd moment during the scene in which Superman flies into Zod’s world engine to destroy the machine.  A determined Superman flies into the destructive path of the world engine’s beam, dodging defensive mechanisms, and appearing to dissolve into the bright light of the beam.  At one moment, it appears that producers may have used CGI to superimpose another image over Henry Cavill’s face: the face of Christopher Reeve.  It may be simply that under the circumstances Cavill actually does resemble Reeve, but it’s such a peculiar thing to find in the course of the film that I felt it worth noting.

The military and scientists use the escape pod Superman arrived in to activate the Phantom Zone and blow up Zod’s ships, and suck his people into a black hole that erupts over Metropolis, but somehow only manages to suck in the two ships and none of the city, despite being a black hole just meters above the city.  Once again, the boys behind this epic have stolen a plot device from Star Trek (the Romulans were dispatched in the Abrams reboot also by creating a black hole in their ship).

Luckily, Lois escapes by being knocked from the Air Force jet carrying Superman’s pod to launch it into Zod’s ship just before the ships crash into each other.  Superman stops everything else to rescue her from death, and gives her a kiss, just as Zod shows up.  Zod tells Superman that as a man of the military, his job…his reason for existence…is to protect his people.  Now, thanks to Superman, he has no people.  So, he is going to kill Superman and everyone on Earth to make everyone pay.  An even bigger disaster is levied upon Metropolis as these two punch, heat vision, and throw each other across the city, leveling it more than the Chitauri could have ever hoped to level New York before the Avengers stopped them.

This is also the one defining moment that best exemplifies the real idea that this “isn’t your daddy’s Superman.”

At the beginning of this latest round of fighting, Zod launches a gasoline tanker at Superman…and Superman dodges it.  It flies into a building behind him and destroys the building in a ball of fire.

If this were the Christopher Reeve Superman…or even Brandon Routh version, he would have caught the tanker and protected the lives within that building.  Here, collateral damage is of no concern nor consideration to this Man of Steel.  Like a five year old, if he cannot see other people they are of no concern.  The fight travels miles and miles, literally through buildings with no potential towards saving any one or thing, and there is no logical way to believe that the entire city was evacuated in time, considering the time frame suggested.  Metropolis is a war zone, a disaster area, and there is simply no consideration for anyone else but these two Kryptonians…

Until…

The two combatants fall into a train station, and as Zod threatens to vaporize a family of four with his heat vision, Superman snaps Zod’s neck, killing him.  He then collapses to the ground and screams in agony at what he has just done, and then Lois arrives to hold him.

Cut almost immediately to the general driving along as one of the military’s drones crashes in front of his car.  Superman threw it there, as a warning for the military to not try and find out where he “hangs his cape.”  The film ends with a scene of a young Clark running in the yard with a towel for a cape, and an adult Clark joining the Daily Planet.  This is the only moment in the film that works.

Metropolis, remarkably, is completely repaired and there is no sense or evidence that any of the destruction ever happened, which is more in keeping with Snyder’s assertion that there wasn’t any real damage, and only a few thousand people were hurt.  Snyder is unmoved by the controversy regarding the massive death and destruction in his movie, stating that since Superman is the closest we get to ancient myth, the destruction and loss of life is necessary to give the story a feeling of true mythology, and in ancient mythology, “mass deaths are used to symbolize disasters.”  (http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/heat-vision/man-steels-death-toll-is-617666)

I can say with some assuredness that Snyder is right: this film was a disaster.