Artificial Worlds
I liked Peyton Reed’s first two Ant-Man films, Ant-Man (2015) and Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018), for their smaller scale. What was a complaint by Marvel fans was, in my opinion, a boon; these films had little consequence to the greater tapestry of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Both films told mostly self-contained stories about Scott Lang (Paul Rudd), a superhero/thief who has the ability to grow and shrink thanks to a high-tech suit. As a result, the creative action sequences often involve mundane objects becoming comically large and threatening. His adventures were grounded in our world and his villains ranged from military industrialists to the results of freak accidents, but the stakes always remained personal and small, relating almost exclusively to that of family.
None of this is really the case for Ant-Man’s latest adventure: Ant-Man and The Wasp: Quantumania.
Quantumania eschews nearly everything that made the previous Ant-Man films great by catapulting Ant-Man’s family into the quantum realm, an ill-defined world beyond space and time. The quantum realm is a vast wasteland, an expansive technologically advanced civilization, a verdant jungle, and whatever else the plot demands it to be. It allows Scott, his family, and the audience to experience strange and terrifying beings like giant blobs, cyborg armies, Bill Murray, and its time traveling despot Kang the Conqueror (Jonathan Majors). Kang is to be the primary antagonist for the latest saga of Marvel films, so his universe-threatening presence contrasts the traditionally small scale adventures Ant-Man goes on. It doesn’t end up working and Quantumania ends up being an overly-convoluted superhero film that is tonally and narratively confused. Even the visuals don’t do the film any service. Director Peyton Reed’s aspirations for the bizarre quantum realm appear to be beyond what technological possibility (or more likely, beyond what Marvel is willing to pay their visual effects artists) and, more often than not, the results look bad and artificial. This has led plenty of comparisons to the children’s work of Robert Rodriguez, specifically Spy Kids 3-D: Game Over (2003) and The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl in 3-D (2005).
And yet, despite the technology being “worse”, I’d argue Rodriguez’s films will hold up better.
In both Spy Kids and Sharkboy and Lavagirl Rodriguez willingly engages with the artifical and uncanny through digital effects. Often, in both films, the worlds they inhabit appear “fake” and the effects don’t look “real”, but, in a way, that’s the point. The characters of Spy Kids 3-D are in a virtual reality game and the protagonist of Sharkboy and Lavagirl is whisked away to a world of dreams and imagination, so the unreality of those worlds is functional and, considering what was possible with visual effects at the time they were made, an explicit aesthetic choice of Rodriguez. Quantumania’s world looks cheap in comparison and, with the film demanding you take it seriously, creates a disconnect. That seriousness is undercut at every turn, not just by the so-so effects, but by Marvel’s addiction to irony.
It is a frequent criticism of Marvel films, and major studio blockbusters of late, that the dialogue of these films takes the opportunity to make fun of itself before the audience has the chance. What was once clever self-awareness now comes off as insecurity of letting the work be weird, invoke a cliche, or even get too emotional, and that ends up deflating the suspension of disbelief. Rodriguez’s films, however, still remain fun to watch today as an adult because they are absolutely sincere. The audience is free to decide if something is weird or if a situation is awkward instead of having a character on screen say, “This has been a weird day, huh?” I feel so many things, both good and bad, when I watch Spy Kids 3-D and Sharkboy and Lavagirl, but the biggest feeling I had when I saw Quantumania was relief when it was over.
Spy Kids 3-D: Game Over (2003) is available for streaming on Paramount+ and Pluto TV
The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl in 3-D (2005) is available for digital rental.
Final Girls in an Ongoing World
by Brandy Perry
I recently read The Last Time I Lied by Riley Sager, The Final Girls Support Group by Grady Hendrix, and Liar, Dreamer, Thief by Maria Dong. All three are written in the first-person perspective of a protagonist who is (a) a woman who (b) suffered past trauma, is (c) struggling with current mental health issues, and (d) is being stalked.
These three books, while leading with characters seemingly so alike, are actually very different. As are the protagonists with the overlapping characteristics. It barely forces an audience to wonder, however, why suffering women are chosen to be protagonists in mystery, thriller, and horror stories.
The dramatic and astounding revelations made possible by an unreliable narrator are vast, potentially innumerable. Even Dame Agatha Christie, the queen of mystery stories, was skyrocketed to fame by her novel The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, which cleverly and elegantly executed this conceit. Unlike Christie’s protagonist, however, the women leading these books all—at least to some extent—realize that they cannot fully trust themselves; the reader must parse through the truth and lies along with them. This enables an intimate level of engagement, as the reader essentially becomes the protagonist’s invisible Dr. Watson. But when has Sherlock actually solved a case without first meandering on another lark? That answer remains unclear, retaining the wondrous ingenuity of the best mysteries and the best mystery writers.
But why are these characters women? Why does the cliché of the “final girl” exist? Why is a woman, and especially a younger woman, more likely to exist as the unreliable narrator?
The answers to all of those questions lie undoubtedly in the history of misogyny and patriarchy ruling the publishing and cinematic worlds, but there is something both incredibly strong and incredibly intelligent (and incredibly feminine) in how some of these recent heroes shine against all odds, proving their cleverness and ingenuity and survival instincts to male characters who would destroy them. Women run the world, after all.
The Last Time I Lied by Riley Sager is a mystery/horror/thriller that I very highly recommend. The book follows one girl-turned-woman as it switches between past and present in the protagonist’s attempt to understand even more than she first believes mysterious.
The Final Girls Support Group by Grady Hendrix is highly rated and generally liked. It’s a fun read, and it draws you into the slashers of yesteryear, but it honestly falls flat compared to Sager’s previous work Final Girls.
Liar, Dreamer, Thief by Maria Dong is a new release and a debut novel by a brilliant woman. I’ve never read anything quite like it, and I doubt I ever will. P.S. She’s a Michigander.
Stray Observations
I worked with Cinema Lamont to help promote their upcoming Kelly Reichardt retrospective “Frontier Problems.” I’ve only seen a handful of her films, so it is very exciting that I have this three film series to look forward to. Of the three, I’ve seen Certain Women (2016), which is what I based the promotional image off of. You can buy your tickets here and below is the promotional image I made:
The latest album from Caroline Polacheck, Desire, I Want to Turn Into You, was released this past Valentine’s Day and I haven’t been listening to much else. I loved her first album Pang (2019) and all the the tracks on Desire, I Want to Turn Into You that were released as singles initially (“Billions”, “Welcome to My Island”, and my personal favorite “Bunny is a Rider”), but the whole album is just a beautiful ethereal art-pop fantasia. I can not get enough. The tracks “Sunset” and “Crude Drawing Of An Angel” are so different from each other, but are right next to each other on the album making such a wonderful dissonance that, honestly, I love.
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