No spoiler alerts: Yes, I’ll be discussing Avengers: Endgame. No, I won’t tell you anything that happens. Someone once told me that in all disaster movies, the child gets saved. Reference Jurassic Park(s), Earthquake, Volcano, and The Day After Tomorrow. That’s not a bad thing, and it’s obviously not always the plot, but I think it gets a bit old. Hence, in Schindler’s List, the optical tragedy of the little girl in the red coat—the only color in the black-and-white film—changes the man forever. Non-spoiler: no children die in Endgame. My feeling, however, is that a bit of wonder does.
I can hear the anguished cries now: “Are you kidding me?! You didn’t see any wonder in all that splendor?” Not so much. I’ve seen all the movies but the Hulk origin story. I’ve seen some more than once. It’s a lot of universe. I love them, can’t deny it. Some more than others. Adore Ant-Man. I have serious quibbles with Guardians of the Galaxy 2, but that’s another story.
My thinking is that for all its glories, Endgame relies almost exclusively on the tropes of love and family, sacrifice and commitment, hope and faith. Those are all good things, right? Of course. I can’t help but feel manipulated, however. Are there no other themes available? I’m glad the Marvel movies exist. I heard that one premise for them was the question, “What if gods really did exist?” Their primary purpose, however, is and will always be entertainment. And that’s great. I’ll see the thing again. Even at 182 minutes. There is an app for the bathroom breaks needed; I didn’t have it so missed two scenes of who-knows-what. The app is called RunPee. And this is the world we live in.
This reviewer is smarter than I am but says some of the same things in a smarty-pants way: and in The New Yorker, no less. Where I secretly want to write. But I digress.
Second digression: Time travel inherently makes no sense, but no one seems to care. The best of the movies in the genre is Primer, set in Austin, made for $7000, and won the 2004 Sundance Festival Grand Prize.
There’s a difference between making someone cry and letting them cry. (If you haven’t heard that people cry in the movie, then you haven’t heard anything.) In effect, this movie made me cry in places. It let me cry, too, over some other choices made. Some other reviewer whose piece is behind a pay wall called it junk food. Maybe so. I detoxed with some good poetry via The Daily Poem podcast. They’re short, interesting, available to read on the internet as you hear them.
Love. That’s the real wonder. Share some.