X-Men Apocalypse: It's the end of the world... again... but it's awesome.

 Note: I use italics to refer to the movie title, to differentiate from Apocalypse the character ;)

This year has already been a great one for comic book films, starting with the Valentines Day romp of Deadpool, and the magnificence of Captain America: Civil War. It has also been a bit of a disappointment, with Batman V Superman leaving its community split between those that hate it, and those that desperately defend it, in spite of its critical drubbing. X-Men has had a string of successes in the last few years, maintaining a pretty high-standard of entertainment, and proving that Marvel Studios isn't the only safe bet in town for a good night at the movies. X-Men: Apocalypse wasn't my most anticipated film this year, but I'm glad to report that it delivers pretty much exactly the level of action, character, and social awareness that you've come to expect from the franchise. However, it also falls victim to its competition, as movies like Deadpool (a loose alumni of the X-Men franchise) gave a fresh breath of air to the comic book genre just recently, while Apocalypse rather fittingly sticks with the kind of overdone "big baddie wants to end the world" scenario. Civil War will still remain my pick for best comic book movie of the year for now, as it took the Avengers, a team known for saving the world on an epic scale, and boiled its story-line down to a deeply character-driven narrative, devoid of the stereotypes that have started to become routine in comic movies. Don't get me wrong, Apocalypse is great, and you'll love it if you have any love for fairly straight forward comic movie, but it is following some pretty tough acts this year.

Apocalypse is one of the X-Men universe's most popular, and threatening villains. The comic books have dedicated year-long events to the character, and he remains as one of the biggest baddies in the whole Marvel universe. Making a film about him seems like it would need to be big, and carry a hell of a lot of gravity, and X-Men: Apocalypse certainly tries its hardest to deliver. The stakes are about as high as they've ever been, with the titular villain attempting to wipe out all of humanity in a grand scheme that would leave only the strongest mutants alive to rule the world. So, great right? We've had Deadpool, and Civil War both offer smaller, more personal stories, it's probably time for a big doomsday scenario (actually, considering Batman V Superman, maybe we shouldn't ever ask for Doomsday again). Brian Singer, long-running X-Men director, does an outstanding job of building the seriousness of the threat that Apocalypse represents, and bringing to a head the character arcs of the generation 2 actors that started in X-Men: First Class. The film's biggest reward is its final shots, where the classic X-Men team assembles in full, zany uniforms, finally paying off on the years of black leather biker outfits, and half-measures towards the classic X-Men aesthetic. It's all so good, and yet I somehow feel like this could have been better.

***Minor Spoilers Ahead***

Call me a spoiled comic book fanboy, but I can't help but wonder if the character of Apocalypse deserved something bigger. Part of the problem with the current era of comic book movies is that we the audience are finally becoming as jaded as the comic book readers of old. We saw the Avengers save New York from an alien invasion, and then saw them prevent a comet from obliterating the world. We've had Superman save/annihilate major cities to save the world twice recently. We just had a movie called X-Men: Apocalypse, and the next Thor film will cover Ragnarok, the revelations chapter of Norse mythology. The doom of the world being thwarted by spandex-clad heroes is becoming the one thing that it should never be: routine. We've kind of gone over this all before, and it seems like we the fans are getting harder and harder to please. Marvel has found a way to address this by introducing Thanos, a villain so serious and powerful that he's been kept in reserve, operating from the shadows before he will finally be revealed in Avengers: Infinity Wars. This use of a recurring character that is just too big, and too powerful to deal with directly builds a suspense, and sense of impending doom that far outweighs a villain that is simply introduced, built up, and defeated in one film. This is kind of what I felt was missing for good old Apocalypse. What made Apocalypse great in the comics was his inevitability. No matter what you seemed to try, the bastard always survived, and always remained impossible to defeat. While it may be a slight spoiler, I must now mention that the good guys win in X-Men: Apocalypse (oh, shut up, of course they did), and Apocalypse is definitively defeated. While the film does a great job of making his defeat seem all but impossible, and makes it really come down to the wire, it does end with Apocalypse being destroyed on a pretty much atomic level. For a character that is "invincible", and has lived for thousands of years, to be beaten and definitively killed in a single film (with an in-film chronology of maybe a month at the most), it kind of feels anti-climactic. Maybe the creative team could have chosen to draw it out over more films, or end with at least some ambiguity over the finality of Apocalypse's death, and that might have made it more satisfying.

In summary, this film felt a little routine, and I kind of wish Apocalypse had been given a bit longer in this universe to really build his sense of threat, but all of that aside, I also feel that Singer, and Fox Studios are still safe hands for this franchise. X-Men: Apocalypse looks great, the characters are wonderful, and the villain works extremely well with what he has. I'm still kind of glad that X-Men is separate from the Marvel Comic Universe movies, since it allows it to act as its own player in the game, and we're not stuck with a duopoly of Disney and Warner Bros. Given that the first film came out 16 years ago, it is encouraging to see that the franchise, and its director, have still got the touch that helped save the comic movie genre.

The Martian: It's good to have you back, Sir

I'm going to get this out of the way right now. It's good, go see it, pay the extra for the 3d session. Now that I've said that, here's where I go all film critic.

Ridley Scott is one of the great artists of our time. The man embodies everything that makes a great artist. He is able to find, capture, and express beauty in almost anything, his imagination seems to be limitless, and he has skill in his medium that allows him to transmit that imagination seamlessly. He has also been rather controversial in the last decade for making some pretty sub par films. The typical pattern for a while was that a Scott film would hit the cinemas, be critically panned, and then be completely rescued by a dramatically improved director's cut. This hinted at some pretty bad studio interference, which seemed odd considering Scott's status. Things declined further with Robin Hood, a re imagining of the classic, and Prometheus, Scott's return to the vaunted Alien franchise, which he helped to establish. Both films were quite poorly received, and seemed to be beyond saving, even in their post-cinema director's cut releases. Again, it was hard to say if Scott was losing his touch, or if it was all interference from film studios. Rumours brewed that Scott was being constantly forced to work with hack screen writers, or "modernize" his work by being saddled with modern film making tropes. While the films got worse, one thing that never changed was the beauty. Scott still managed to capture flawless images through his camera, and make scenes dance across the screen, stirring the imagination of anybody still alive from the hair down.

The Martian proves exactly one thing as a film: that Ridley Scott has still got it. The Martian is an adaptation of Andy Weir's novel by the same name. The book detailed the stranding of astronaut, Mark Watney, and his stubborn grasp on life, as he learns to survive alone on Mars after his mission team is forced to abandon him. If you ever want to see this movie, I am telling you right now to go and see it in the cinema. There are experiences that will move you in an indescribable way, and a Ridley Scott film, viewed on the big screen, with full cinema sound, any yes, those bloody 3d glasses, can never be matched. The Martian is an excellent pic to watch on your little laptop, obtained legally, five minutes before the film actually releases (or so I imagine), but as an experience, the film must be viewed in its native habitat. The martian landscape, and the majesty of space has not been captured in such glory before. "NASA movies", like the recent Gravity, the modern but dated Apollo 13, or the classic 2001 A Space Odyssey, each gave the viewer an experience that showcased the state-of-the-art cinematic technology of their era, and each told a story through mostly visual means. Scott is perhaps the greatest living example of a visual cinematic artist, and to watch this film in anything less than its native cinema screen would probably do it an injustice.

The film also stands up as a simple story. It tackles high-concept science fiction, giving us a realistic picture of the problems and moral dilemmas that the human race will be forced to deal with when and if it finally takes to the stars. The characters are funny, lovable, and even the supporting cast feels well rounded and real. Matt Damon, who plays Mark Watney, deserves a great deal of praise for his performance here. If effect, the character is a cast away, left to survive alone on a desert island. Only, in this case the island is years away from civilization, and there is no water, and no life of any description to help sustain him. The story then becomes about Watney's ingenious efforts to make life grow in order to sustain him, and his struggle to stay sane and not surrender to the omnipresent chance of death. Watney stubbornly clings to life, much like the plantlife that he manages to foster on Mars, and in spite of setback after setback, he finds a way to not only sustain himself, but evolve as both a character, and a human being to become the first martian.

Ridley Scott's first film, The Duelist ends with one of the single most beautiful cinematic frames ever captured. It says everything that needed to be said about the film in a single mournful, yet triumphant pan of the horizon. The Martian has no less of Scott's talent and limitless imagination sown into every scene. While his career might have waxed and waned, Scott remains an artist. If you leave the cinema not having felt something move in your chest, I suggest that you seek a cardiologist immediately.

Scribbling Corner: Age of Ultron, Visual Storytelling, and Getting Wood

I was watching Avengers: Age of Ultron recently, and was reminded again of how good the screenwriting was throughout. Virtually all of the menagerie of leads had their own continuing character arcs, though they were often told quite subtly. The secondaries are all put to work effectively, furthering the plot, prodding the leads, and feeling real instead of existing solely to flip a switch in the script. And finally, the overall story arc of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) felt effectively progressed. Complaints that Age of Ultron felt like just a stepping stone to a greater sequel fall a little flat, given that Ultron's plan to end human life came frighteningly close, which just goes to show how jaded some patrons are: "Cha' whatever bro, so he nearly wiped out all human life, I just never took him seriously as a threat, and Thanos like totally has a glove and marries death and shit... I wish he was my real dad".

What I enjoyed the most were the little examples of purely visual story telling that pervaded the whole film. It is gratifying that in a film filled with such stimulating mass action, the smallest touches are put in place to help tell the story without the need for excessive dialogue. There are the obvious ones, like Ultron's progression from a battered and broken Iron Legionnaire, to a strong shell, to his denied destiny in the beautiful body of The Vision, and of course, the moment when Scarlet Witch rips out his core, symbolizing the death of her own heart (although, both examples are explained with dialogue). A great example of the purer visual story is the scene in which Steve Rogers (Cap) and Tony Stark (Tin Can) argue over Stark's decision to create Ultron without consulting his peers. The dialogue is pretty straight forward, with Rogers shaming Stark's decision, and Stark slugging back with his usual impetuousness and choleric self-importance. Stark is clearly the cause of their problem, though his actions were sparked by the desire to protect his friends, something he cannot trust them to support him in. Rogers, the classic phlegmatic archetype, shames Stark's lack of trust, and unwillingness to confide.

This would make for a great scene if it were dialogue alone, but the director (no introduction required) chose to also build the scene around useful visual metaphors. The pair have their dispute while splitting logs for firewood. This doesn't feel remotely out of place. The scene occurs while the two are unexpected guests on a farmstead, and chipping in with manual work is entirely to be expected. A key failing of writers attempting visual metaphors, or symbolic action frequently occurs when their intended imagery feels forced, unnecessary, or just plain out of place. For example, if this scene had taken place in Stark Tower (Stark's mid-town New York skyscraper), wood-chopping might seem a tad out of place, as indeed would any scene involving manual labour or Rogers "helping out" (In a modern skyscraper full of robots... he could make coffee?). The image is humourous, since the superhuman Rogers is clearly the more practical of the two men, and his pile of split logs towers over Stark's. This image tells us all we need to know about the relationship between the two men. Stark loves to tease Rogers' lack of technical aptitude, and discomfort with the 21st century. Conversely, Stark is brought back to earth in this low tech setting, and is forced to admit Rogers' superiority in practical matters. The two wood piles represent the state of the argument. Rogers towers over Stark at this point, both in his usefulness, and his position in their debate. Rogers is calm, not breaking into anger at Stark. Stark's arguments, though founded in his relative desire to protect, are puny in the face of the overwhelming evidence. He is the lesser man in this situation, in spite of all his good intentions, power, and skills. Of course, Stark is unwilling to back down on the issue, and the scene breaks suddenly when Rogers picks up a log and simply rips it in two with his bare hands. This is a critical moment in not only this film, but also in the larger arc of the MCU. This is the almost literal representation of the moment that Rogers and Stark diverge paths, both in Age of Ultron (representing the team's division), and in the greater scheme, as the two allies break apart on moral grounds. The scene is then capped nicely with a final laugh, and the arrival of Nick Fury, the team's father figure.

This is just one example of the kind of excellent writing and visual story-telling that is present throughout Age of Ultron, and also the rest of the MCU films. It shows how the films are carefully constructed to tell brilliant self-contained stories, but also contribute to a wider story that never feels rushed, or like it is making it up as it goes. The recent attempts by DC and parent company Warner to produce similar quality "shared-universe" films has left a lot to be desired, especially when it comes to being patient and building a worthy universe for film. Fortunately, their TV series', Arrow, and Flash have both made excellent strides toward matching Marvel's patience and willingness to work for its audience's adoration. Take this scene above as a template and try applying it to other scenes in Avengers: Age of Ultron, or any other film you see this week, and see what other stories are being told in the background. Spoiler, if it's a Bay film, the subtext is probably, "dat azzzzzzzzz!"