The Elder Brothers of Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul

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*Spoilers for Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul, and El Camino below

For the past 9 weeks, my heart has been in Vince Gilligan’s Land of Enchantment. I have watched, for the first time, Breaking Bad, El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie, and Better Call Saul. I’m 12 years late to the party, but I’m here! Therefore, this is not a review about how amazing these shows and movie are, because by now that’s a pretty well-established fact. Instead, I want to examine an overarching theme of the Gilligan-verse.

In both TV shows, we see a reenactment of the biblical parable of the prodigal son, with a special emphasis placed on understanding the Elder Brother character. Walter White of Breaking Bad and Chuck McGill of Better Call Saul are archetypal elder brothers to Jesse Pinkman and Jimmy McGill/Saul Goodman, respectively. These characters become case studies of the unique failings of both Elder Brothers and Younger Brothers, as depicted in the prodigal son parable. These allegorical connections are part of what makes Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul such rich examinations of morality.  

The Parable

The Prodigal Son narrative appears in Luke 15:11-32 when Jesus tells a series of parables to a group of Pharisees. In the story, there is a rich man with two sons. The younger son asks his father for his share of the inheritance (an extremely disrespectful action). The father gives it to him, and the son runs off. He squanders the money “in reckless living” (v. 13, ESV). When he runs out of money, there is a famine in the country he is in. The only work he can find is feeding pigs (which, when considering Jewish dietary laws, symbolizes a great spiritual deprivation). The son decides to go back to his father and to offer himself up as a hired servant in order to pay back his debt. He knows his father is a kind man, and he will be treated better as a servant for him than he is now.  But when the younger son returns home, his father runs to meet him and immediately embraces him back as his son and puts on a celebration, declaring that the son “was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found’” (v. 22). The son, despite his failings, has been forgiven and fully reconciled with the father. 

Meanwhile, when the elder brother, who has remained faithful to his father, hears about this, he becomes angry and refuses to join the celebration. His father comes out to try to bring him in, but the brother argues that it is unfair that while he has always served the father, it is his younger brother, who acted so shamefully, who is now being celebrated. The elder son has served his father out of duty and a desire to be recognized, not out of love. The father responds that “‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours” (v. 31). The parable ends without any reconciliation between the brothers or between the older brother and the father. 

Better Call Saul 

Better Call Saul is a more straightforward telling of the prodigal son story with the literal brothers of Chuck and Jimmy McGill. Chuck (Michael McKean) is the older brother who is a brilliant, respected, accomplished lawyer, and is nearly impossible to please. He casts a long shadow over his younger brother Jimmy (Bob Odenkirk), who has a messy past and is more than willing to take a few shortcuts to get his way. Chuck operates in a completely black-and-white worldview. He is a staunch legalist who puts all of his trust in the law. He shows little capacity for mercy or grace. Because he sees Jimmy cut corners and get things without working as hard for them as he did, Chuck is full of self-righteous anger. 

Pastor Timothy Keller writes in his book The Prodigal God that “Elder brothers base their self-images on being hardworking, or moral, or members of an elite clan, or extremely smart and savvy” (61). Chuck does all of these things, and because he defines himself as being diametrically opposed to Jimmy, he refuses to recognize any of these characteristics in his brother. This means Jimmy, even at his best, can never earn Chuck’s love and approval. This is part of the reason he gives up on being good altogether and embraces the Saul Goodman moniker. 

Chuck’s resentment towards Jimmy is best reflected in the words of the older son to the father in the parable after he hears of the celebration for his brother:

“‘Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!’ [The father responds:] ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found’” (v. 29-32). 

The joy of the father’s inheritance has always been available to the older son. Being with the father is itself a gift. Likewise, a joyful relationship with his brother and personal satisfaction in his own accomplishments has always been possible for Chuck. But he self-sabotages both because he’s too preoccupied with the perceived unfairness of how he’s been treated compared to Jimmy. He sees any grace extended towards Jimmy as unfair, and isn’t unfairness the antithesis of the law? It is for a legalist who hasn’t experienced mercy. 

The tragedy of Chuck is that he is too focused on what he deems “fair” to see what is loving and kind. Even when Jimmy is at his humblest, Chuck continues to cut him down. Chuck did all the “right” things, but without the right heart, it leads to nothing. Chuck dies alone in his house, with nothing of value to show for himself. His story ends with alienation from joy and from his brother, just like the elder brother in the parable.

Amill Santiago writes in “Better Call Saul and the Ache for Approval” that, “The two broken brothers are trying to get essentially the same thing through very different ways: immorality and moralism… [But] In Christ we can be received and approved despite our moral failures (cf. 1 Tim. 1:15) and independently from our moral performance (cf. Eph. 2:8-9).” Chuck and Jimmy, like the Elder and Younger brother, are both trying to fill holes in their hearts for affirmation and reward, but simply in different ways. In this sense, Better Call Saul invites viewers to examine the ways in which they lean towards the younger brother or elder brother mindset, and the follies of both. The show understands, like the parable, that neither approach to life- duty and joyless obligation like Chuck, or self-centered rebelliousness like Jimmy, are satisfactory ways to have relationships with God or others. 

But, unfortunately for the McGill brothers, Better Call Saul is also a show about how seemingly minute choices put people on a path towards destruction from which they eventually find themselves unable to escape. There is no father/God figure in Better Call Saul who disrupts the road to destruction and redeems his wayward children, who stops Jimmy McGill from becoming the Saul Goodman we know in Breaking Bad. In this regard, Better Call Saul’s fatalism is at odds with the Prodigal Son parable. But despite this, there is still great value in the way the show prompts audience introspection, and how Better Call Saul shows other characters land in the middle of the extreme older brother-younger brother spectrum. Kim, Howard, Mike, Nacho, and others move around from one end of the spectrum to another, and this fleshes out how anyone can “break bad,” and the many incarnations this can take. This variation is what makes the show so compelling. 

Breaking Bad

In Better Call Saul, the older and younger brother dynamic is more straightforward because it plays out in the central sibling relationship between Chuck and Jimmy. But in Breaking Bad, Walt and Jesse are not brothers, nor is their relationship dynamic that of brothers. Instead, Walt and Jesse have a twisted father and son relationship (one of forced co-dependency). This means that the older/younger brother dynamic doesn’t play out so much in their interpersonal relationship as much as it does through their symbolic standings in society.

Walter White (Bryan Cranston) is a quintessential elder brother in his world. When we meet him in the pilot, he’s a mild-mannered high school chemistry teacher who keeps his head down and is a steady father and husband. He is seen as the beta male to his DEA brother-in-law, Hank’s, alpha machismo. Walt feels emasculated by his wife Skyler. He feels underappreciated and underestimated. He is full of unrecognized genius, and therefore full of bitterness to those around him who do not recognize this genius. When he is diagnosed with lung cancer, he’s been dealt an undeniably crappy deal. But he chooses to let this be the reason why he indulges in self-pity and becomes unbelievably cruel. This is because, “The first sign [of] an elder-brother spirit is that when your life doesn’t go as you want, you aren’t just sorrowful but deeply angry and bitter. Elder brothers believe that if they live a good life they should get a good life” (Keller, 56). In El Camino, Walt tells Jesse in a flashback, “You’re lucky, you know that? You didn’t have to wait your whole life to do something special.” Walt wants the same thing as Jesse, but has spent his life trying to get it in a different way. Elder brothers try to gain what they want through loveless obedience, and become disillusioned when their efforts don’t pay off.  

Walt’s cancer diagnosis puts him in contrast to Hank when Hank is shot by the twins and loses his ability to walk. While Walt’s pain reveals pride, anger, bitterness, and entitlement, in the end, Hank uses his pain as a catalyst to become a better man, husband, and DEA agent. For Walt, “The good life is lived not for delight in good deeds themselves, but as calculated ways to control their environment” (Keller, 58). When he loses control of his environment, the Heisenberg that was always inside him does everything necessary to regain control, which means becoming a menace to everyone, especially to those in his own home. Walt feels that he’s earned the right to play Heisenberg, to live out this childish power fantasy because he has acted good and has been repressed for so long. He helps justify this with his mantra of doing it all “for his family,” a lie he holds onto until the very end, when he finally admits to Skyler in the episode “Felina” that he did it all for himself. In Walt, we see that the elder brother mindset is a ticking time bomb. When the elder brother feels cheated, or that his “good life” hasn’t paid off in the way he expected, he lashes out in self-righteous pride and anger. He is unable to relate to others with grace and mercy because he refuses to accept it himself, and nothing will ever be good enough for him. 

On the flip side, you have Jesse Pinkman (Aaron Paul), who (despite actually being an older brother in his biological family) is a classic younger brother. In the parable, “The [younger brother] humiliates his family and lives a self-indulgent, dissolute life. He is totally out of control” (Keller, 39). This is how we meet Jesse at the beginning of the show. He’s considered by his family and respectable society to be an embarrassment; a wayward junkie, too dumb and unruly to ever do anything of value. He’s seemingly squandered all potential and resources he has for a life of easy living and drugs. Literally the third sentence Walt says to Jesse in the pilot is, “Honestly, I never expected you to amount to much.” 

Throughout the series, Jesse has quite a few “eating with the pigs” moments, from S02E04 “Down” when he’s kicked out of his house and spends the night on the floor of the Krystal Ship, covered in portapotty sludge and wearing a facemask, to being a meth-cook slave to neo-nazis by the end of the series. And that’s just the physical desolation; Jesse is constantly haunted by guilt and remorse and keeps being pulled further and further in over his head into the life of crime he was never cut out for. Jesse, unlike Walt, is brought low enough to see his need for forgiveness and redemption. It’s easy to imagine him saying the words of the younger brother at his lowest points- “I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son” (v. 21). But because there is no God/father figure in Breaking Bad either, Jesse turns to all sorts of self-flagellation to try and replicate this forgiveness, from rehab and its philosophy of unconditional self-acceptance, to mind-numbing partying, to helping the DEA, to going through a personal hell in captivity. We see here that the younger brother’s life of gluttony and self-fulfillment leads to great personal consequences. If the younger brother doesn’t come to see the error of his ways, this self-destructiveness is a never-ending spiral. If the younger brother does see the error of his ways, then he needs forgiveness and reconciliation to be able to move past his failings. 

In El Camino, Jesse gets his happy ending (as happy as one can be in Breaking Bad), and the older brother/younger brother’s differences are further parsed out. When Jesse escapes captivity, he is able to rely on his friendships and connections to help get him to Alaska. He doesn’t have Walt’s pride and is able to use his relationships with Skinny Pete, Badger, Old Joe the junkyard guy, his parents, Ed, and the memories of Mike and Jane to guide him. In the end, Jesse is, in part, saved by his reliance on others and their prodigal mercy towards him, while Walt dies utterly alone, having severed all relationships because he saw them primarily as transactional. Jesse as the younger brother experiences a restoration. Walt refuses every chance given to him of restoration with himself, his family, and moral society. 

While Better Call Saul invites viewers to consider themselves and whether they are an older or younger brother and how such mindsets lead down equally dangerous roads, Breaking Bad is focused more on the ending of the parable. Better Call Saul’s lack of a father/God figure means neither Chuck nor Jimmy get redemption. Breaking Bad gives Jesse as the younger brother a reconciliation, but leaves the elder brother Walt’s ending as unresolved, just like the parable. This zeros-in on a key point of understanding the parable. Jesus was talking to a group of Pharisees, hyper-religious men who loved the law over God and enforcing the law over loving others. By leaving the elder brother unreconciled, Jesus sends a clear message to the Pharisees- you look down on the younger brother sinners of the word, but your fates will be much worse if you do not see the hatred in your own hearts.

Breaking Bad, too, seems to think that being an elder brother can be potentially worse than being a younger brother, conveying this through both the respective endings for Walt and Jesse and also through the show’s tight-rope balance of pushing the audience to align themselves with Walt, only to then remind you of Walt’s monstrosity. By doing this, the show puts up a mirror and makes you realize how easily you too are swayed into his self-serving, self-righteous, entitled mindset. Perhaps it is easier in our current society to be elder brothers- and much more dangerous as well. These shows focused on morality come to similar conclusions to that of Jesus’ parables- that bitterness, anger, resentment, a lack of mercy, and entitlement are all key roots of evil.

-Madeleine D.

Living In The Curse: Miss Americana

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Miss Americana is a 2020 Netflix documentary by Lana Wilson about superstar Taylor Swift. It gives an overview of Swift’s career through the years but focuses primarily on 2016 through the release of her newest album Lover from late last year. The movie depicts the 2016 election and a series of Swift’s personal and professional struggles as the catalyst for her newfound political voice, which she showcased during the 2018 midterm elections (coming out in support of a Tenessee Democratic candidate), the pro-LGBTQ+ song “You Need To Calm Down” from Lover, and her sexual assault trial that she won in 2017 against a radio DJ who groped her during a meet-and-greet. 

None of the events depicted in the documentary are particularly new, even for casual fans but especially for dedicated ones. Most of these events were highly publicized and Swift has already spoken or sung about them. The most interesting new stuff comes from discussions between Swift and her team about her political statements and genuinely thrilling footage of Swift at work recording. For the filmmaking itself, there is nothing groundbreaking here in the art of making documentaries about stars. But while the parts of Miss Americana may not be new, it is the most concise expression that I’ve seen of what all other pop-documentaries have been trying to say:

Fame is a curse. 

The first sequence after the opening scene shows Swift preparing for a show on her Reputation tour. She stands in the wings and puts on a glittery hoodie. She looks like a boxer. Then she comes out on stage, with all the showmanship of today’s WWE shows, and suddenly you realize that even for a woman who is at the height of her powers and is, arguably, the biggest titan in the music industry right now, she is still fighting every day. And that’s terribly sad. 

Swift and the film touch on a number of reasons why fame is a curse. The profound loneliness while being extremely visible, particularly when it comes to personal relationships. The pressure to always top yourself and to keep evolving and changing your image. The fact that once you’re famous,  you are not an individual, but a cultural archetype that can be used as a character to cast in myths and allegories of politics, identity, history, and explorations of greater systems than ourselves, as is well-explored in this Vox article, “How the Taylor Swift-Kanye West VMAs scandal became a perfect American morality tale”. 

Along with these general observations on fame, the film also explores Swift’s unique experience of fame, which is shaped by the brand she established for herself when she started at age 14. Swift has a distinct brand of vulnerable authenticity. Her songs are extremely personal and are most frequently compared to that of a diary. It’s distinct because Swift was one of the pioneers of the pop-star-as-your-friend movement, on top of seemingly every trend and perfectly suited to the social media age. If nothing else, she has carried this brand with the most consistency out of her contemporaries. 

Now is she really authentic? Hard to say. I’m of the mind that no one is truly authentic, and certainly not when they are commodifying themselves, as we all do online and in our work. Swift’s biggest critics disdain what they see as an overly-polished relatability. Making a documentary adds to Swift’s brand of vulnerability and openness, but it doesn’t reassure me that she isn’t fully in control of how she’s being portrayed all the time. 

But while we can question how authentic her personal image and actions are, I don’t think there is any question about the sincerity of her motives. You may wonder how much of a victim Swift was in, say, one of her breakups, but what Swift really wants you to see is that she is always truthful about what she feels, which is what comes across in her songs. Those feelings, if not the truth of the situation, are authentic. 

That comes across very clearly in Miss Americana and is one of the most compelling aspects of it. In the opening monologue, Swift talks succinctly about how she has always wanted to be good, and the documentary goes on to chart how what she has defined as “good” has changed over the years. She’s always acted out of a desire to be on the right side of things, for better or worse. As someone who is similarly motivated by the same desire to “be good” (unite, enneagram ones!), albeit defined differently than Swift, this is incredibly relatable and therefore feels authentic. It goes back to the theme of the authenticity of her motivations, which is why I think she remains such a big star and has an intimate parasocial connection with her fans.

Miss Americana is not a particularly revealing look at Swift, and can feel pretty milquetoast at times. But it is a good look at fame, and if you were already interested in the film or Swift, then it delivers on its promise to craft the bildungsroman of Taylor Swift, 30, coming of age by finding her political voice. 

-Madeleine D.

Happy 4th Birthday to the Blog!

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Today is the 4th birthday of madeleinelovesmovies.com! Our first post was April 16, 2016 with a double feature of Jeff Nichol’s Midnight Special and Batman V. Superman: Dawn of Justice. Don’t bother with going back and reading them. 

A very special thanks to all of our readers, old and new, who have read these reviews and have been so supportive! We are truly grateful. Continue to wash your hands, remain vigilant, stay safe, and watch good movies. Maybe eat a piece of cake in honor of this great occasion.

There Is Always Redemption At East High: The True Fantasy of High School Musical

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A wise woman once said that there are few things more well-suited to quarantine than rewatching the entire High School Musical Trilogy. That woman was my mother, and that’s what my family has been doing for the past week. 

The trilogy, starting with the first film released on the Disney Channel in 2006, was a generation-defining series, with each movie containing many instantly iconic moments. It was a huge hit for Disney, and it remains a nostalgic favorite for many, including myself. 

Rewatching the series, I was struck with several revelations. First, is that the series genuinely holds up. There are some dated elements, sure, particularly when it comes to early 2000’s fashion, but the series remains a refreshingly sweet teen story about growing up, first love, challenging the status quo, teamwork, and being proud of who you are and where you’re from

Beyond the messages, musical numbers, and the star-making performances though, the High School Musical trilogy embodies multiple fantasies, which is the real reason the series is universally appealing. 

Some of these fantasies are obvious. Troy and Gabriella’s relationship is a romantic fantasy. Being super talented at two things, like Troy is at basketball and music (getting a scholarship for basketball and being considered for a scholarship at Julliard?!), that’s another fantasy. Actually having a great high school experience? Fantasy. The fantasy of being able to run around your unlocked high school in the dead of night to scream out your emotions. These, and so many more, are the core appeal of the series. 

But one of the fantasies of High School Musical that I think flies under the radar has to do with the antagonist, Sharpay Evans (Ashley Tisdale). Sharpay has gotten a sort of posthumous pardon in the past few years with a compelling “Sharpay was the real victim” discourse emerging on social media. This is fun in its own right, but let’s focus on Sharpay’s intended depiction in the series. 

Sharpay Evans is seen, in the viewpoint of the movie, to be a spoiled, ambitious, hard-working, but conniving and controlling theatre kid. She has worked her whole life to be in musicals, which is impressive, but she doesn’t have the sweet summer child innocence of first-timers Gabriella and Troy. In each of the three films, she is poised to be the star of whatever musical production is being put on, but Troy and Gabriella are picked instead, so Sharpay tries to get back into the spotlight. Her efforts to do so range from convincing the drama teacher to change the date of the callbacks all the way to having Troy kidnapped in the dead of night

But at the end of each movie, without fail, Sharpay’s plan is somehow foiled, Troy and Gabriella are restored back to the spotlight, and Sharpay realizes the error of her ways. And when the whole cast sings the final triumphant number, Sharpay is invited to sing with them and is welcomed back into the fold, where she becomes counted among our protagonists. Our protagonists never hold her failings against her. 

Your first thought might be that this is formulaic, that Sharpray having the exact same character arc each movie, never progressing in a linear fashion over the course of all three movies, is poor writing. I, too, thought this originally. But with more contemplation, I realized that this is not the case. In fact, the cyclical nature of Sharpay is actually quite profound. Everyone struggles with bad habits and destructive behaviors. In real life, we rarely progress linearly or in an efficient manner. We all have strongholds that keep us in vicious cycles. In this way, High School Musical continues to be very profound and observant about human nature. 

Even deeper, though, the ending Sharpay gets in each movie speaks to one of our deepest desires as humans. We all want to be forgiven unconditionally. We want our mistakes and failings and vices to be forgiven and forgotten about. We want our friends to continually receive us with open arms and always be ready to sing with us again. We want to be redeemed. We want salvation. 

That is the fantasy of High School Musical, because, in our daily lives, our relationships are full of bitterness and grudges and unforgiveness and anger. We do not ask for, or receive, forgiveness from everyone. We are not given unconditional love. We ruin our friendships and are not let back into the fold. We do not act as redeemed people. 

Oh, but this Easter, let us remember that this doesn’t have to be a fantasy! When we celebrate Easter, we remember that we have been given unconditional love and continual grace. We can live as Sharpay Evans does- in full confidence that no matter what we do, we can be forgiven, redeemed, and enter back into covenant fellowship. Over and over and over again.

Sharpay may want it all, but she should realize that the unearned mercy and reconciliation she’s been given by her peers is what is truly fabulous.

Movies for Holy Week

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By Jonathan Dorst

Holy Week is the highlight of the Christian calendar, the week when the church remembers and dramatizes the events between Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem (Palm Sunday) and His resurrection (Easter). In addition to the two Sundays, many churches celebrate Maundy-Thursday, the night when Jesus celebrated the Passover meal with His disciples (see John 13-17), and Good Friday, the day when Jesus was crucified and laid in the tomb.

2020 will be a year that will be remembered for many things, but one very sad thing we’ll remember is not being able to be together, as the church, during Holy Week. So, we’ll do the next best thing: worship together by ourselves or with our immediate families. Along with reading the Scriptures, watching worship livestreams, and singing worship songs together, allow me to recommend some movies for you to watch.

Some of these movies were made by Christians, and others were not. Some are direct dramatizations of the biblical events, while others are only symbolic of the events. But, all are worth pondering, I think. They’re listed in alphabetical order by event, three each.

Maundy-Thursday

Babette’s Feast (PG)- A beautiful story about a religious community that is brought together by a sacrificial, but extravagant, meal.

Chocolat (PG-13)- This one’s a little bit of a stretch, but part of Jesus’ message to His disciples at the Last Supper is “that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.” While Juliette Binoche’s Vianne is not necessarily a Christian role model, she does bring joy and feasting to a legalistic, pharisaical town.

Jesus of Nazareth (PG)- The 1979 TV movie is a pretty faithful rendering of Jesus’ life, including a good scene of the Last Supper. You might need to make this a multi-night watch- it’s 6 hours and 22 minutes (or you could just watch the Last Supper scene on YouTube).

Good Friday

The Iron Giant (PG)- A visitor from out of this world sacrifices himself to make peace on earth.

The Passion of the Christ (R)- This movie does a good job of telling the story of the crucifixion in a visceral way, but what it doesn’t get (and maybe no movie could get) is that the hardest part of Jesus’ suffering was not the physical pain, but the spiritual pain that came from being separated by the Father and becoming sin for us.

War For the Planet of the Apes (PG-13)- The whole trilogy is a parallel to Moses’ story in Exodus, but this last movie casts Caesar as a Christ figure, sacrificing himself to bring his community to free his people.

Easter

The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe- I personally love the animated 1979 version (PG), as it is the most faithful to the book, but the 2005 version (PG) will do in a pinch.

Risen (PG-13)- The resurrection told through the eyes of a Roman solder tasked with investigating the case of a missing dead body.

The Tree of Life (PG-13)- As a meditation on the book of Job that is told mainly through visuals, we follow a family grieving the loss of a son/brother until, like Job prophesied (Job 19:25-26), they experience a bodily resurrection.

 

(Originally published at https://www.riveroakstulsa.com/blog/post/movies-for-holy-week)

Thoughts on the Future of the Blog, Quarantine, and Lent

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Dear readers,

I’m not dead! I’m alive and well, and at this point, I do not have COVID-19. I am dreadfully sorry for not writing on the blog for almost two months. The beginning of the year is always a strange time for movies and for me, and this year is particularly strange. 

I am, of course, referring to the coronavirus pandemic. I’ve been home for the past two weeks and will remain here as my university finishes the semester out online. My family is under shelter-in-place and has been social distancing and quarantining as much as possible. 

Then this is the perfect time to write plenty of reviews, right? Well, now the problem is that there are no movies out. In the coming days, I will probably write about a few of the newest theatrical releases that have been sent to streaming. I’ll be debuting madeleinelovesmovies’s first series review with the Tiger King on Netflix (it’s great!). I’m also interested in experimenting with a few non-reviews, in the line of meditations, essays, or think-pieces, if you don’t mind me straying a bit from this blog’s original intention. 

This is also as good a time as any to mention that I’m always up for guest writers. If you want to write a review for something, contact me personally or pitch me your idea in the comments of this post. The comments have to be approved before becoming visible on the blog so I’ll see them and we can talk!

~

Taking a hard transition away from housekeeping… It is currently the season of Lent. Lent is a season of the Christian calendar that makes up the 40 days leading up to Easter Sunday (this year it’s April 12). It is kicked off on what’s called Ash Wednesday, which is usually celebrated with a service where a pastor draws a cross with ashes across congregant’s foreheads, with the words “Remember that you are dust, and to dust, you shall return.”

 It is traditional to fast from something during Lent. Many people will give up things like coffee or chocolate or social media. Instead of fasting, some people try to start a habit, like reading their bible daily. The purpose of Lent, through practices like fasting, is to tune our hearts towards Jesus and his sacrifice. Our small sacrifices remind us of his and of our dependence on his strength. 

Most years I attempt to fast something. This year I didn’t- citing my busy schedule and not preparing for Lent properly beforehand. But it turns out that I am now, unexpectedly, fasting quite a bit. This fasting is coming from quarantine, and I am beginning to believe that this quarantine/self-isolation/social-distancing/whatever you want to call it, may actually be the best thing that could happen during Lent. Of course, this pandemic is horrific. It’s causing every kind of pain at every level. No one is untouched and the long-term ramifications are frightening and unpredictable. Yet it’s where we’re at right now. It’s what we’ve been given. 

Lent is about sacrifice and deprivation, and the coronavirus pandemic has made us all sacrifice and be deprived of so many things. Everyone has had some kind of future event canceled. All sports, all concerts, all conferences and parties and vacations are gone for the foreseeable future. We have had our mobility- our sweet, sweet American freedom of movement- taken away. We have had our closest friendships and even family members taken by distance. We have lost our ability to buy whatever we want, in whatever amount, and get it whenever we want. Some of us have lost our jobs and livelihoods. We’ve lost money in stocks and IRAs and retirement. We’ve lost our health and some of us will lose our loved ones or even our own lives. We have lost all illusion of certainty for the future. 

We are completely dependent. Our knowledge and understanding are limited. The news makes us feel omnipotent but our perspective is truly small. Some of us are having to truly, desperately pray for our daily bread (or toilet paper), because for the first time we can’t take it for granted. It is in this desperation and fraughtness that we are, perhaps, being given the opportunity to learn the real meaning of Lent, and to experience it deeply. 

May we realize our own weakness. May we truly come to terms with it. May we take this uncomfortable freedom of time to truly abide the thought of death. May we trade peace maintained by thoughtlessness for peace found by preparedness and hope. May we realize that nothing we could possibly be asked to sacrifice will ever compare to the sacrifice already made for us. 

Wash your hands. Remain vigilant. Stay safe, and watch good movies. 

“You say that you cannot abide the thought of death. Then you greatly need it. Your shrinking from it proves that you are not in a right state of mind… I would not endure a peace which could only be maintained by thoughtlessness. You have something yet to learn if you are a Christian, and yet are not prepared to die… Should it not be the business of this life to prepare for the next life, and, in that respect, to prepare to die? But how can a man be prepared for that which he never thinks of?” -Charles Spurgeon (from “O Love That Will Not Let Me Go” ed. by Nancy Guthrie)

Top Ten Films of 2019

It’s that time of the year! The Oscars are upon us and the 2020 movie slate will be picking up soon, so it’s time to wrap up 2019. My criteria here is, as always:

  1. How much I enjoyed the film and how much it stuck with me.
  2. How “good” of a film it is, in terms of craft and use of the medium.
  3. Cultural significance and relevance.

I have not yet seen The Lighthouse, Honey Boy, Hidden Life, Booksmart, Ad Astra, Ford V. Ferrari, and The Standoff at Sparrow Creek

Honorable Mentions: Us, Dark Waters, Toy Story 4, Bombshell, Peanut Butter Falcon, The Farewell, How to Train Your Dragon 3, El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie, Adopt a Highway, The Parts You Lose, and John Mulaney & the Sack Lunch Bunch

Worst Film of the Year: The Lion King (2019)

  1. Blinded by the Light

This little movie is one of the last of the dying breed of midrange movies getting a theatrical release. Without that release though, I may never have been able to see one of the best films I’ve seen about how art can inspire and connect people across generations and cultures. 

  1. Harriet

This biopic has been plagued by controversy and may not be completely historically accurate. But it rises above that, and the trappings of conventional biopic cliches, to become something a little more awe-inspiring and revelatory. 

  1. Marriage Story

Since my first viewing, I’ve read dozens of think-pieces and reviews that have made me re-examine Marriage Story. Is it biased towards Charlie? Is Nicole made to be a villain or is that a subversion? Is writer-director Noah Baumbach actually saying divorce can be a good thing that enables growth on the part of both individuals? How autobiographical is this story anyways? 

While my reading on the film has become more complicated, I see it as a true win for the film that it can not only spark this many debates and readings, but withstand them, and continue to stick in my mind months later. 

  1. Frozen 2

With live-action remakes on the rise, the question has arisen if a story warrants being animated- and if animation still holds unique value compared to live-action. But Frozen 2 shows what an animated musical can do if operating on the highest level in all areas- music, sets, character design, story, voice acting. It is, in other words, super dope. 

  1. Little Women

While the Winona Ryder version will always hold a special place in my heart, Greta Gerwig’s version sets a new bar with how to do a book-to-movie adaptation. While some consider purity to the source material as the way to judge an adaptation, I believe a good adaptation is in conversation with both the source material and with the cultural response to the material. This is particularly so with a book that’s been adapted as much as Little Women and has a huge meta-textual history to draw from, with everything from the author’s own biography to modern readers still debating #TeamLaurie and #TeamBhaer. Another straightforward adaptation won’t do. Gerwig pulls off a complete structural rehaul and an ending change that adds tremendously to the conversation and legacy of Louisa May Alcott’s work. Gerwig and the ensemble cast also make a delightful piece of entertainment while they’re at it.

  1. Everybody Knows

This Spanish-language thriller finds less excitement in its kidnapping plot than the careful unraveling of secrets family members keep from one another. Beautiful acting by Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem and directing from Asghar Farhadi make it one of the most exciting and tense films of the year.

  1. Jojo Rabbit

Jojo Rabbit has two distinct parts. The movie switches tones about halfway through in an abrupt fashion. It’s difficult to swallow at first, and it has been a stumbling block for many when it comes to liking this film. But I think it’s the film’s greatest strength. It’s in these two parts that we are given two different but related solutions to dealing with the problem of indescribable suffering. 

The first solution is to use comedy to heal ourselves, ridicule the villains, and reclaim power. This is demonstrated in the hilarious first half, which uses humor to undercut Nazism and expose its ridiculous ideology and tactics. Humor gives Jewish character Elsa agency and power over an otherwise powerless situation. 

In the second half of the film, we get the second solution: reckless hope and courage. Of course, humor is not unrelated to hope and courage. But one is focused on the past, while the other is focused on the future. 

The ending captures both of these ideas. Jojo and Elsa dance, which is both humorous and an act of hope and courage. “Let’s dance” means, “let’s keeping living.” It means not giving in to despair, and being resilient, which children are particularly good at. All of this is found within Jojo Rabbit.

  1. The Two Popes

As I said in my review, The Two Popes is not only an enrapturing watch but also is relevant for non-Catholics and addresses religion and faith with frankness and honesty that I’ve rarely seen. I’m still thinking about specific lines of dialogue and the strangely pizzazzy cinematography choices. It’s such a weird movie, in the best way. It’s a must-see, if only for these two scenes alone:

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And-

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  1. Parasite

I never wrote a review on Parasite because my original idea of doing a comparison between it and US and their shared metaphors of tunnels and class never got off the ground and I simply didn’t have time to do such a deep dive. I also saw it late, and most everything that can be said about the movie has been said. If you’ve been paying attention at all to this movie or the Academy Awards, you’ll know that Parasite is, indeed, a phenomenal film about class that doesn’t waste a single frame in telling a striking, chilling story. It’s brilliant. 

  1. The Last Black Man in San Francisco 

I labored over this choice, I really did. The Last Black Man in San Francisco tackles many of the same topics as these other films. Parasite tells a much more elaborate, brutal tale of class warfare. Little Women captures equally the beauty of friendship and siblinghood. Marriage Story is also presented in a very realistic, almost documentary-like way. Blinded by the Light has acute observations on race. But The Last Black Man in San Francisco does all of these things in its own unique, unified way. It’s made with the kind of quiet confidence that is unusual for a directorial debut. It’s a meditative piece that carves out a quiet place in a noisy world. It’s an elegy for past times with a hopeful future. It was stunning. It’s stayed with me since June and I expect it will continue to for much longer. 

-Madeleine D. 

The 10 Best Things of the Second Half of 2019

In June, I made a list of the top ten things of 2019 so far. It included two films, but was also a chance to spotlight some of the other media I had been enjoying. That was fun, so here is another list of ten things that I’ve enjoyed that have come out since June. I think being well-versed with pop culture and exposed to many different forms of media and worldviews is all a part of being a movie critic, and a discerning viewer. Exploring music, books, podcasts, and videos all contribute to a cultural education. 

Music

Atlas: Enneagram by Sleeping at Last 

Atlas: Enneagram album was a project completed this year by musician Ryan O’Neal. As a newly indoctrinated Enneagram believer, this album really helped me understand it more. But even if you don’t care about the Enneagram personality system, there’s no doubt that this album is beautifully crafted. As an Enneagram One, I always get emotional at that first song, but “Eight” is my other favorite. O’Neal also made a podcast (“Sleeping at Last Podcast”) chronicling how he made each song. It’s astounding the amount of detail and effort put into each song, from the ways the musical composition reflects characteristics of the Enneagram to how he had the musicians who played on each song be the same Enneagram as the song. It gives a beautiful insight into crafting an album. 

“I Can’t Let You Throw Yourself Away”- Randy Newman

Best original song of the year. There are a lot of best original song contenders this year, from Jasmine’s new song in Aladdin, “Speechless”, to Taylor Swift’s “Beautiful Ghosts” for Cats and Beyonce’s Spirit for The Lion King. But my personal favorite original song is this one from Toy Story 4, which works both on a hilariously literal level in the film and also as a fun, anti-suicide bop! Runner up, “I Punched Keanu Reeves,” from Always Be My Maybe. 

Lover– Taylor Swift

I’m tired of hiding it! I like Taylor Swift! Her music is consistently great! She’s a great writer! She’s a savvy businesswoman! She stood up against sexual assault and won! She embodies all the contradictions of modern pop stardom and it’s fun to read think pieces about her, while still recognizing that she is a real person separate from her celebrity image. I hope she and Joe Alwyn are happy!

Lover showcases all of Swift’s strengths and staples while also displaying maturity. While not all the risks she takes pan out (lead single “Me!”’s silliness never elevates itself to true camp) and some of the “risks” feel too calculated (such as “You Need to Calm Down”), there is an underlying yearning for peace that shows that Swift may have moved past some of her past feuds and drama (or, at least, decided to pick her enemies more carefully). “Cruel Summer” is pop-perfection and “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince” is the best political song in recent memory. It doesn’t speak as directly as “You Need to Calm Down” or some of her contemporaries’s political works, but that’s why it succeeds. By using high school metaphors, so common in her own earlier work, she crafts a song that is subversive about its commentary and feels all the paranoia, exhaustion, and fear that the recent political climate has built. It seems the artist of the decade won’t be going anywhere this upcoming decade. 

 

Podcasts

The Popcast

Hosts Jamie Golden and Knox McCoy have crackling chemistry in this podcast about pop culture and “delightful idiocy,” and I laugh every episode. My favorite episode from the second half of this year is “Tom-ageddon: Picking the Worst Tom of 2019” (October 16th) but I also recommend the first episode I ever listened to, which was “Potential Pop Culture Antichrists” (May 13, 2019). From spicy hot takes to green lights on the best movies and books of the week, The Popcast can keep you in the loop. 

Dolly Parton’s America

I didn’t grow up listening to Dolly Parton. I don’t even listen to country music, so it’s a real credit to Jad Appenrod and WNYC Studios for creating a podcast miniseries about Dolly that has sucked me in completely. The podcast, using a variety of sources, including interviews with Dolly herself, examine why Dolly is so beloved, and what her fame and career reveal about the contradictions within America itself. 

I particularly recommend episodes 5 and 6, which can be listened to as standalone episodes. #5 “Dolitics” explores how Dolly is able to be the most political-nonpolitical entertainer out there and how she handles the current expectation for entertainers to be activists. #6 “Jolene” is, well, all about her hit “Jolene.” The first part is a fascinating breakdown of how the song is a complete subversion of the “Other Woman” song subgenre. The second part is a queer reading of the song. If that doesn’t interest you though, at skip to 31:13 to hear a jaw-dropping story that finds “Jolene” in a South African prison during Apartheid. This podcast was one of the most interesting, toe-tapping 36 minutes of my year. 

 

Youtube

Be Kind Rewind Channel

Be Kind Rewind is a channel full of academic, long-form video essays that breaks down each of the best actress wins in Oscar history. Each video essay is well researched, edited, narrated, and overall excellent quality while being entertaining and informative. I think they are accessible for both experts in film history and newbies. 

There’s been a lot of talk about women in Hollywood and inequality, and these discussions and boycotts have been important. But the modest goal of this channel to bring light to unknown stories and reframing film history through the lens of these actresses is just as important and radical a part of fighting inequality. 

I particularly enjoyed “Nicole Kidman and the Weinstein Nominees: 2003” and “Casting Scarlett O’Hara & Vivien Leigh’s Oscar: 1939”.  

 

Polyphonic Channel

I’ve been getting more into music criticism lately (although don’t expect any full-length album reviews on this blog). Music is an area I enjoy but don’t know much about. My eclectic taste has been the dismay of many of my more music-learned friends. This channel, like Be Kind Rewind, produces professional and engaging video essays, here over different musical subjects.

After listening to Jesus is King and generally just hearing a lot more about Kanye West recently, I particularly enjoyed the channel’s video on him and how he’s shaped the 2010s

 

Articles

The Real Problem With Paula Dean”, by Lauren Michele Jackson

Like music criticism, food criticism is something I’m interested in but don’t have experience in, outside of watching multiple seasons of Masterchef and Chopped. This article, similar to the Dolly Parton podcast, looks at a beloved figure (or previously beloved figure) who exemplifies elements of American society. In Paula Dean’s case, America’s contradicting ideas about race, food, obesity and health, and fame. Even if you’re not invested in Paula Dean or her food empire or whether or not she said the N-word, I think this article is well written enough to be worthy of your time. Reading outside of one’s interests is a great way to be exposed to new ideas and the world you’d never know about otherwise. In this case, it’s the world of butter, bacon, and mayo.

Introducing the Dad Movie Hall of Fame” by The Ringer Staff

This is one of the funniest things I have ever read. The Ringer Staff gives guidelines and a set of starter movies for the new subgenre of Dad Movie- a genre you’ve probably felt, but not quite been able to express. There are plenty of poignant insights, both into a handful of films and also into the psychology of dads. After reading this, you’ll find yourself thinking, “is this a Dad Movie?” And if it is a period place, with a beloved actor slightly out of his prime, and is “about work, managing, or team building in some form or fashion,” and has some Europe but not too much Europe, then you’ve got a Dad movie™.  

 

Books

She Said, by Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey

She Said tells the behind the scenes story of the Pulitzer Prize-winning expose the New York Times did in 2017 over Harvey Weinstein’s sexual misconduct and assault. The piece opened the floodgates on #MeToo and the career-ending allegations of dozens of powerful men in entertainment coming forward. The book starts from the piece’s inception all the way to the Kavanaugh hearing with Christine Blesy Ford. It pulls back the curtain to all the behind the scenes drama and work that went into the headlines. If you’ve ever wondered why women are hesitant to come forward with allegations, or how people like Harvey Weinstein are able to stay in power for so long, or any other questions that have come up with this recent movement, She Said probably has an insightful answer. While the prose is sometimes clunky, it’s a gripping read. We don’t know where the #MeToo movement is going, but the fact that it even got started can give us hope. 

-Madeleine D.

Oscar Movie Minute: Little Women, Dark Waters, The Two Popes, 1917, and Knives Out

Wow, after all of that Marvel propaganda, it’s time to talk about some real cinema! 

Little Women

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More than any previous adaptation, this Little Women has meta-textual interaction with the source material. Telling the story out of order and cutting between the adult and younger versions of the March sisters work mightily in some areas (Beth’s death has never been more devastating) but not as effective in others. Some characters suffer from this structure, such as Timothee Chalamet’s Laurie, who unlike Christian Bale’s version doesn’t get to build up into a confidant and friend of the March family. But it also helps characters like Amy, who is given her due and more time to justify her point of view and actions. 

Some of the ideas writer-director Greta Gerwig puts forth and the way she speaks to how the novel has been received and critiqued didn’t agree with me, but I admire how she elevates the art of adaptation. I’d rather have a story that had a unique perspective rather than just dutiful, stuck-to-the-original material. 

But what hasn’t been changed from the source material to this adaptation is the coziness or the timelessness factor. The story still rings true for women today and celebrates female narratives. The movie portrays sisterhood and women’s socialization with astounding accuracy. It also shows how women, who throughout time have been confined to the home, have made these domestic spheres into feminine sanctuaries, and the beauty in that. This adaption pays special focus to the bewilderment Mr. Brook, Laurie, and his grandfather have at experiencing for the first time a peek into this world, which probably will ring true to many men (including men like my father, who has a house full of girls). It’s charming, though, with no malice on either side. 

While this film does depict sorrow and struggle and pain, it’s ultimately a celebration, and that makes it not only a perfect holiday movie, but it’s also, in part, what helps it be one of the best movies of the year: beautifully made and carefully crafted at every level. 

Dark Waters

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True advocacy in the world, the work activists do, is long. It’s time consuming. It’s often detail-oriented and tedious. It’s not sexy. For every great march or momentous legislative win there are hours upon hours of unrecognized labor (often underpaid or not paid at all). Behind every win is a million disappointments and setbacks. 

Movies about advocacy and justice often win awards, but they win not for their realism but instead because they are perfectly engineered to boil down years of work into two hours, giving audiences a concentrated dose of inspiration that has plenty of spectacle and triumph. They’re a cliche, but they win. They make us feel good and keep up optimistic. 

Dark Waters, the newest film by director Todd Haynes, starring Mark Ruffalo (who also produced) and Anne Hathaway, is adamantly none of those things. It’s the anti-Oscar movie. Dark Waters tells the real-life story of corporate defense lawyer Rob Bilott, who discovers that the DuPont company is poisoning water in West Virginia and becomes a whistleblower. The film, which takes place over seven years, gets into the nitty-gritty details of the case it’s following, and shows the true, grueling nature of legal work. It doesn’t have a victorious ending, or big bravado speeches. It stubbornly refuses to fall into any of those tropes, and that’s probably why it hasn’t been nominated for any awards, including for Ruffalo, who gives probably the most humble performance of the year. 

It’s hard to recommend this film. It’s a downer. It feels long. Ruffalo and Hathaway give great performances, but their roles require them to be unlikeable and stripped of their natural charisma. The film, from simply a visual standpoint, is ugly. The movie wears on you. But… that’s kind of the point. By the end of it, you’ll feel defeated, like Bilott. You’ll feel like his wife and family, who have had to sacrifice an attentive dad. You’ll feel the wariness of knowing the corporations who make all of the products you use daily could be poisoning you, and you might never know it. And even if you did- what would you even do about it?

The Two Popes

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I didn’t expect to enjoy The Two Popes. Afterall, I’m not Catholic, and don’t know much about either Pope Benedict or Pope Francis. What could this film have for me?

I’m here to tell you that The Two Popes is a marvelous film, for anyone. It is worth seeing for the performances by Anthony Hopkins and Jonathan Pryce and the sharp screenplay alone. But, there are two other elements I found that truly set this film apart. 

  1. Despite not being Catholic, I found plenty of similarities between the conversations of the Popes to conversations happening not only in my own church denomination but also in American politics. 

Pope Benedict represents a conservative interpretation of the faith. Pope Francis represents a more liberal one, both theologically and socially. This opposition extends into mercy vs. the law, personal responsibility vs. corporate responsibility, individual change vs social justice. None of these ideas should be binaries, but in both the evangelical protestant church and in American politics, crossing the aisle and creating bridges across what has become divided stances becomes more and more difficult. 

The Two Popes brings us a beautiful picture of what it looks like to actually engage someone on a human level, and only then being able to confront the differences between one another. You can’t always change someone’s mind, but sometimes you can. And sometimes you’ll find your own beliefs changed as well. But you must first engage as people. That applies even to Popes. 

  1. The Two Popes also captures something I very rarely have seen in film. If last year’s criminally overlooked film First Reformed understood the inevitable tragedy of being a minister, then The Two Popes understands the inherent comedy of being one. 

The concept of being a pastor/reverend/minister/priest- whether a humble youth pastor or a Pope, is somewhat ridiculous if you think about it (wait, hear me out- as a second-generation PK I say it with love). 

We suppose that the God of the universe has created an institution for his people, his beloved sinners, which will be led by other sinners. If you’re a pastor, you’re trying to guide others in all the ways you still sin yourself. You want to lead by example, but your example is littered with failures. You try to be truthful about your struggles, but you can’t be too truthful or people get uncomfortable and nervous. If you are a good pastor and in it long enough, you will see dozens of people fall and betray everything you thought you had taught them, and you will betray your own deepest held convictions dozens of times (a week) and yet you must continue admonishing and extending grace and forgiveness.

Isn’t it preposterous? Absurd? Contradictory, yet commonplace, yet rare? And yet it still remains almost untouched by cinema. 

The Two Popes is a serious drama, but moments of levity come from embracing the contradictions of being considered sacred while also being human. The two popes eat pizza in the Sistine Chapel. They watch football. They joke and laugh because they are human. They dance. Then they forgive one another. Neither knows exactly what they are doing, but when they are able to extend grace, they’re closer to God then they’ve ever been. 

Films that take religion seriously (and aren’t marketed as “inspirational films”) are fairly rare, and the conversations of doubt, forgiveness, and church bureaucracy in this film were deeply moving, thoughtful, and rang true. It’s one of the most well-written movies of the year, and I believe, a must-see.

1917

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1917 is a spectacular technical achievement that really can only be seen to be believed. The “one-shot war movie” pitch is executed perfectly. It’s exciting to watch cinematography be pushed to its very edge, right in front of you.

But what is there to 1917 outside of the one-shot gimmick? What does it have to say and reveal about war?

A friend who saw the film with me said that in a political time where many are hungry to start wars at seemingly a whim (*ahem* WW3 with Iran *ahem*) a war movie like 1917 is always timely and important to remind us of the truth of war: it is hell. It is not glorious. It should be avoided at all costs. 

But the warfare of WWI shown in 1917 is radically different from how war looks today, and this period of warfare had already been covered extensively in film. Any relevance and timeliness is rendered mute. This war is so removed from modern warfare that it is easy to categorize it as the past, with little to teach us today that has not already been taught. 

Because of this, 1917, outside of the cinematography, has no new things to add to the already extensive war-movie genre, on a storytelling or aesthetic sense. It’s not that it doesn’t deserve to have been made. I’m glad there’s a movie that demands to be seen on the big screen- those are becoming rarer. 

Yet it’s impossible to talk about this film outside of the knowledge that it’s currently a frontrunner for best picture, and so I have to remark that I sure don’t think it should. The best picture award is not awarded to the crew who wins the suffering-olympics. It’s about the best overall film, ideally one that captures its particular year’s zeitgeist, which 1917 does not do in any respects. 

Knives Out

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Knives Out isn’t quite the ensemble murder mystery it was advertised to be, but it’s got great surprises in store nonetheless. The main twist is that you learn who the murderer is right away, and are poised to root for them as they try to get away with their plan. The movie is atmospheric and fun, and the whole cast seems like they’re having a good time playing this deliciously spoiled family. 

There is an overt political message to the film that casts the Thrombey clan as emblematic white Americans who believe they earned everything they’ve got and who like legal immigrants who keep their heads down and work hard, but don’t like any immigrants that either challenge that persona or make them feel threatened in any way. I enjoyed the creativity in which this message was incorporated throughout the film, and loved the perfectly meta-casting of Chris Evans, the literal Captain America, as the embodiment of the worst of socially-accepted white nationalism. 

But outside of this political message is a spiritual one, one that was pointed out to me by my pastor, Ricky Jones. That is of true innocence unveiling fake righteousness. Marta’s innocence lays bare the fake righteousness of the Thrombeys. Her simple truthfulness confronts their deceit. This immigrant may remind us of another visitor, an immigrant to our world, whose complete holiness and innocence illuminated the sins of those around him and put their hypocrisy into the light. 

-Madeleine D. 

Next week: Top Ten of 2019

An Impassioned Defense of Avengers: Age of Ultron

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To enjoy Avengers: Age of Ultron is to be in the minority, and sometimes to be outright attacked. I have loved and supported this film since I saw it as a newly minted Avengers fan in May of 2015. It was instantly my favorite Marvel film and it has remained that way 12 films later. I have engaged in many a heated debate defending this film. It has taken up an embarrassing amount of space in my brain for the past 4 years. All of these points have been thoughtfully ruminated upon, refined by the fire of argument, and cooled by the passing of time.  

For context, Age of Ultron, the sequel to 2012’s Avengers, at the time of its release, was given a mixed-to-positive reaction by critics, getting a 75% Rotten Tomatoes score. Critics primarily praised director and screenwriter Joss Wheaton for his writing and James Spader’s voicework. In 2015, superhero-fatigue hadn’t completely set in yet, so many of the reviews of the film can be boiled down to, “It’s exactly what you think it is and it does it pretty well!” 

The film made $191,271,109 in its opening weekend and quickly passed one billion by its third weekend. It overall made $1.4 billion worldwide (almost $460 million domestic) and now sits as the 10th highest-grossing film of all time. But, by all accounts, Disney still thinks of the film as, at best, an underperformer, and at worst, an outright failure. 

Why? For one, it didn’t make as much money as the first Avengers film, which sits as the 8th highest-grossing film of all time. AOU wasn’t as universally acclaimed as that film either. It also had a rocky press tour, which included Joss Whedon going around in interviews talking about how making the film nearly “broke” him and blasting Marvel for making him add things to the film to set up future movies. And lastly, the film has a complicated relationship with fans. 

The fans/fandom reaction was mixed to negative. There was the kind of stuff that accompanies each franchise property, like shipping wars (I wanted Black Widow to get together with Hawkeye but Joss Whedon made them just friends!) and anger over deviations from the comics. Then there was, in the internet intersection of academia and social justice, a lot of discussion over Joss Whedon’s brand of feminism and the treatment of Black Widow in the film, which many were displeased at, to put it lightly. (I know. I was on Tumblr. I was there. I still have scars.)

We’ll get to all of that. At best, the movie has gotten a *slight* positive turn by fans who, now with the context of history, have realized AOU is the closest we ever got to a superhero hangout movie. Mostly though, as time goes on, AOU has been mostly forgotten or considered a blight at best. 

If you haven’t seen the film lately, I’d suggest doing a quick recap on the plot. Read it? Is your memory jogged? Okay, great! Before I argue that AOU is actually one of the most interesting Marvel films (and maybe even persuade you that it is the best), it’s always worth noting that movie-going is subjective, and I try to disclose any major biases I have, so here it goes:

  1. My favorite Marvel characters are, in this order: Bruce Banner/Hulk (Mark Ruffalo), Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson), and Tony Stark/Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr.) These are the characters that the film focuses on, so of course there’s bias that my favorite characters get the most to do. 
  2. This is a loose adaptation. In this discussion, critiques about comic book accuracy such as “Wanda and Pietro are mutants and their dad is Magneto! Ultron was created by Hank Pym, not Tony and Bruce!” do not matter. In the words of Black Panther:     

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Now that we have that out of the way, I’m going to start breaking down major criticism of the movie and my refutation, and then move on to things about AOU that are often overlooked that I see as critical to seeing this film as, dare I say, a masterpiece.  
I am willing to die on this hill. Let’s begin. 

Criticism of AOU That Are Legitimate

“The plot is overstuffed and too much of it is just set up for future films. It’s confusing and ruins the movie’s pacing!” Yeah. The growing pains of the MCU’s expanding cinematic universe are certainly here, and this is an example of foreshadowing and franchise synergy bogging down a movie. Marvel has gotten better at this, but I think at the expense of their films becoming more and more similar. Because AOU has such a unique style and a more singular, standalone vision, all of the setup for future movies feels extra jarring and out-of-place. 

“There are sexist jokes.” There are, and it sucks. The prima nocta “joke” and gag of Bruce falling into Natasha’s chest are gross and, yes, I hate it. I have no interest in defending Joss Whedon as a person or as a feminist figure. I want to give him credit where it’s due, but also call him out when that is due, and these “jokes” were in poor taste, unfunny, and overall not-in-character for the film. 

“Why is it called ‘age’ of Ultron when the whole movies takes place over what seems to be just a week or two? Cause it sounds super epic. But you’re right. 

Criticism of AOU That Are Bad

“Ultron is a lame villain.” We’re going to get to that, but put simply: no. Is he as cool as Killmonger? No. Is he as powerful as Thanos? No. Is he as charismatic as Loki? Debatable, but no. But you know what he is, in a way that none of the other Marvel villains (except Killmonger) are? He’s a precise foil to our main characters and is devastatingly effective in showing our heroes’ flaws. He fits into the philosophical framework of the film beautifully, and James Spader is inspired casting.

“Natasha gets kidnapped! And it’s only because she’s the The One Girl™. She has a moment of weakness, therefore this film is ‘unfeminist.’” Natasha being the only lady Avenger is a problem, but this is a criticism towards the MCU at large and not this particular movie. This trope of a woman being kidnapped is generally considered a problem for two reasons. One, it’s frequent, and two, the female character in question does nothing else in the story except to be kidnapped and therefore be motivation for the (male) hero. But neither of these things are true in AOU. Natasha has never previously been kidnapped, and in no other way is she a weak hero. Secondly, and most importantly, she is far from a passive character in this film. Getting kidnapped is not her only purpose or plot point. In fact, this kidnapping scene (which stems from Natasha being a part of a huge and important action sequence) is used to highlight Natasha’s strengths, not that of her fellow Avengers. While imprisoned, she resourcefully reveals Ultron’s location to the team to further the plot. Getting kidnapped doesn’t make characters inherently weak or passive. Context is everything, and here the context makes this more an inversion of the trope than the trope itself. 

And, speaking of Natasha, possibly the biggest criticism of all: “The Hulk/Bruce-Black Widow/Natasha romance came out of nowhere!!! Now Natasha is defined by a man!!!! I don’t know how to think critically!”

We’re gonna come back to this more in-depth later, but I’ll just say here that both of these critiques are shallow and the latter is often made with a misguided application and understanding of feminist media criticism. 

First off, Natasha isn’t defined by a man, for the exact same reasons I said her being kidnapped is not problematic: because it’s A) not a pattern and B) a subversion of a trope. Romance is not the problem, in and of itself. Being in a relationship is not what makes a character have a sexist portrayal. If that were the case, every other Avenger should be called out because they are in romantic relationships.

The reason the role of women and romantic relationships in media is so heavily scrutinized is because women’s roles and agency in stories are often only contained within a romantic relationship, sending the message that women need to be in a romantic relationship to have value. But this should be evaluated on a case-by-case basis, and not an overarching generalization that all women in relationships in movies are bad. If you look at the roles Bruce and Nat inhabit in the film and in their relationship, Bruce embodies the classic romantic interest type much more than Natasha does. Natasha is more proactive, pursues without taking no for an answer, has a dramatic confession of love, and is ultimately the more heroic character. Meanwhile Bruce, in the words of our modern poets, One Direction, doesn’t know he’s beautiful! Natasha spends much of the movie telling him such:

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He’s adorably clumsy! He has Black Widow guard him in the first Ultron fight. His power set is, like many classic female superheroes, dictated by his emotions. He doesn’t like violence and wants the two of them to leave the superhero business. In every movie he’s in we just happen to see him shirtless or naked! If we’re gonna be worried about anyone being the passive, defined-by-their-romantic-relationship character, it should be Bruce. But we don’t worry about him, because he has other things going on in this movie and other parts to his identity and character, just like Natasha. We don’t put the crushing weight of thousands of contradicting expectations on him so he can positively represent all men. 

Secondly, there are a ton of things in AOU that are inferred to have happened between movies. The movie clearly establishes how the team has grown closer and who has become besties with who. A romance isn’t all that hard to imagine happening between two attractive, shy, similarly traumatized characters with complementary skill sets who have a mutual admiration for the other’s deeper, more peaceful self. 

But, critically, the promising seeds of this relationship are sown in the first movie. Watch it again. Pay attention. Nat and Bruce have more screen-time together than with any other characters, from Nat recruiting Bruce in Calcutta, to him Hulking out, to Nat and Bruce’s various confrontations and conversations throughout, to him asking for her forgiveness at the end. As a duo they had a dramatic joint-character arc that is reflective of the emotional arc the entire team goes through: they had to learn to trust each other. 

Their relationship embodying the beats of the entire team’s experience continues in this film. This is made very clear a few minutes into the film when they have an exchange where Bruce expresses fear about Hulk’s involvement in their recent battle. When Natasha tries to reassure him of Hulk’s usefulness, he’s doubtful. Then Natasha says:

Natasha: How long before you trust me?

Bruce: It’s not you I don’t trust.

BOOM. That’s the entire team’s problem. They can’t trust themselves, so they can’t truly trust and rely on each other. Bruce and Natasha’s trust issues stem from fear they have about themselves. Bruce, that in the end he’s just a green mean killing machine; Nat, that she’ll never move past being the monstrous assassin she once was. In other words, neither of them can shake their “programming,” which of course sounds a bit like the problem of our titular murderous robot.  Every one of the Avengers has this problem and it is ultimately everyone’s downfall. Thus the film operates on two levels. The micro-level is this intimate romance between two characters, which mirrors the macro level, which is a conversation of whether:

  1. A) The Avengers will and can last (and are even good for the world), and  
  2. B) If the individual members will ever be able to find personal satisfaction, whether by superhero-ing or not. 

By the end of the film, it’s clear that Bruce and Nat’s insecurities and trauma keep them apart (for now), and so too does it keep the Avengers from ever completely self-actualizing as a group. While Bruce and Nat are able to save the day at the end, they’ve given up on the relationship. Meanwhile, the team itself is splintered, also having, in a way, given up. Bruce and Thor go into self-appointed exile while the others try to pick up the pieces, knowing things will never be the same. 

To the idea that these heroes can ever escape the self-destructive path of superhero-ing, the film ultimately gives a sad ‘no’, displaying a rather cynical view that saving other people is a job only for those who can’t save themselves. So when you consider the Hulk/Black Widow relationship, not just as a B-storyline, but as a shadow, a more intimate, smaller picture of the overall drama happening, the beats begin to make more sense. 

The Thesis of AOU

So the main question of AOU is this: Can superheroes (the Avengers) live normal lives? 

I talk in my Endgame review about how the MCU equates a normal life, aka “making it,” with a biological family and domestic bliss. The Marvel movies operate on the assumption that  “having a biological family is a sign of a character succeeding, being relatable, and having a greater purpose. It’s presented as an ideal life.” And while I love biological families, having one should never be an idol, in any case, and especially not in a series that is the definition of a “found family” trope. AOU is the only Marvel film to really wrestle at all with this assumption, while also reinforcing it. 

Throughout AOU, the language of the film makes it clear that this is a movie about family. What makes it, what destroys it, and what it looks like. Almost everything in the film is codified using the language of family. From Nick Fury calling the avengers “kids,” to Helen Cho’s machine that creates Vision literally being called  “The Cradle,” to Nat’s ritual with the Hulk being called a “lullaby.” The child metaphor is not subtle. 

I’ve already said that the film ends up having the view that these heroes, by nature of themselves and their jobs, can’t ever have this domestic bliss. To come to that conclusion, the film breaks down each of the Avenger’s possibility of getting biological family and domesticity. So let’s take a look. 

Thor

Age of Ultron is decidedly not Thor’s movie. As a consequence, this theme is the weakest with him. However, there are some things to take away. 

Thor’s family are his people, the Asgardians. He feels a responsibility to them, but as the vision, Wanda gives him shows, his deepest fear is that he’ll destroy them. In the vision, Hemindall (a wasted Idris Elba) says to Thor, “You’re a destroyer, Odinson. See where your power leads you.” Then we see Thor killing people in the vision. Even during the scene when the team is at Clint’s house, Thor steps on a Lego house, crushing it. Thor is a threat to the home. This is setting up an arc where Thor has to overcome his fear that he will destroy his own people. 

This never goes anywhere because Taika Waititi and the Russo Brothers drop this character arc completely, making it so that Thor is never a threat to his own people. But this isn’t Whedon’s fault. Thor’s journey changes from “How can I be a leader if I have the potential to kill my people, my family” to “All the things I have set my identity on have been taken away. Who am I now?” But while Whedon’s arc for Thor is never completed, it demonstrates how Thor will never get a domestic ending, and by extension, will never get to quit being a superhero. 

Steve 

Steve is haunted by the war and can’t leave it behind, which may explain why he would rather start a civil war then talk reasonably (come @ me Team Cap). In Steve’s dream, he’s walking through a WWII victory party. But, among the festivities, the war is mixed in. A camera flashes and it sounds like explosions. A spilled cup of red wine looks like a bullet wound. Ultron says that Steve can’t live without a war. Even in his happiest moments, he can’t separate himself from the war, and this follows him until his resolution in Endgame, which is why he and Nat are the only Avengers who really stay and lead the team. They won’t abandon the fight. It’s all they know. 

 Peggy appears in the vision, telling Steve, “We can go home.” But, clearly, Steve can’t. This picture of domestic bliss in front of him is barred, like it is for all of the other characters. It’s still an idol, but one they will never get. But, because the Russos didn’t watch this movie he actually does get this ending, so… whatevs. 

Clint

Clint’s storyline is strange here, and the most complicated in terms of this theme. He acts as a foil to the rest of the Avengers because he’s the only one who actually achieves the domestic dream (until Endgame). 

He is only able to achieve this dream by 1) hiding his family away, and 2) being the least effective, interesting, or necessary member of the team. Clint and his family’s role as a foil is showcased in the safehouse sequence in the middle of the film. After the team gets a beating from Ultron and the twins, they go to Clint’s house to hide out and regroup. This is where we get Bruce and Natasha’s dialogue about kids, and some other nice character moments. But this whole sequence, and Clint’s family in particular, has a dark edge to it that adds to the film’s view on family and all it represents by being denied to the other Avengers. 

The small detail I previously mentioned of Thor stepping on the Lego house sends the message that these heroes are a threat to the home, and that’s almost immediately when the Avengers arrive. 

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Bruce and Nat’s conversation shows their ideological split, one they won’t be able to mend in the course of the film. Clint’s wife, Laura (Linda Cardellini), talks about Clint making it back home from the fight (which in movie-language is supposed to make you fear for Clint’s life). Tony and Steve have an argument that helps set up Civil War.  Thor leaves, and this is the last time the whole team is ever all together again (except briefly during the final battle) until literally Endgame. And in Endgame Clint loses his family. All of this shows that for the Avengers, even if they get to achieve this domestic bliss, their identity as superheroes will always be threatening the family and any illusion of stability. 

Natasha

We’ll talk more about this later, but in the safehouse scene, we learn that both Nat and Bruce are infertile. They cannot have biological children. It’s also heavily implied they also both feel like they would be a threat to their own children. The movie clearly disproves this view, but the characters never get over this view of themselves. If Bruce and Nat are our micro-look at the rest of the Avengers, then the message is crystal clear: the Avengers will never be able to have children. Therefore, they won’t ever get a happy ending, because in Marvel, children and biological family = happiness and peace. (Then the Russos go and ruin that theme with Endgame. It’s fine that they didn’t watch this film. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. it’s. fine.)

The movie posits that Bruce and Nat’s only option for happiness together is to run away from their superhero responsibilities. But Nat can’t do that. She shows, time and time again, that she prioritizes the mission over everything, including her own happiness. Throughout all of these films, Natasha is the only one who sees the Avengers as a family (because she understands that this is a found-family storyline, dammit!). She’s the one who tries to unite the team in Civil War and keeps it going in Endgame. She sees herself solely as an Avenger and is the quickest out of all the teammates to stop pursuing any other end for herself. 

When Bruce later frees her from Ultron and suggests that this is their chance to finally run away, she says “The job’s not finished.” It’s her way of punishing herself, trying to get the red out of her ledger. Bruce then tells her, “You’ve done plenty.” He is the first person to ever say she is enough. She’s done enough. She can stop punishing herself. The tragedy is that she can’t believe him, and turns down the opportunity to “run with it,” and instead goes back to work. That was how she was programmed: Never abandon the mission. 

Tony (and Why Ultron is a Good Villain, Actually)

I said in my Endgame review that making Tony have a daughter, Morgan, is a poor choice because it undermines Tony’s arc. Tony’s arc has been about him feeling responsible for saving the world because he understands how much his mistakes have put it in danger. He didn’t need a child to make the fight personal and raise the stakes- it’s always been personal and the stakes have always been raised, which we particularly see in AOU. 

Yes, part of Tony’s arc has been trying to become a better father than his father was. But this isn’t happening through Morgan Stark, who, while she is his actual offspring, is not nearly the same foil to him as his first child-figure, which is Peter Parker. But even before we got Morgan or Peter, we got Ultron. Tony creates Ultron because after his vision from Wanda, he decides his Iron Legion fleet could be used to create “a suit of armor around the world.” Loki’s scepter finally gives Tony the power he needs to make this vision a reality with Ultron. 

After he and Bruce create Ultron, Ultron appears “in the flesh” at the Avengers’ dinner party, quite literally interrupting the most intimate, family-like setting we’ll ever see them in again for the rest of the MCU. This “birth” is chaotic, unplanned, and changes everything, and sets the stage for why the Avengers will never get families of their own. 

The movie consistently uses the language of father and son to express Tony (and Bruce) and Ultron’s relationship. During one of their first confrontations, Tony and Ultron have this exchange:

Ultron: Don’t compare me to Stark. He’s… a sickness!

Tony: Ah, Junior. You’re gonna break your old man’s heart.

Ultron: If I have to.

Later, Wanda tells Steve, “Ultron can’t tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it. Where do you think he gets that?” and in context she’s obviously talking about Tony. And maybe most explicitly:

Wanda to Ultron: I saw Stark’s fear. I knew it would make him self destruct.

Ultron: Everyone creates the thing they dread. People create… smaller people? Children! I lost the word there. Designed to supplant them, to help them end.

This is literally what happened with Tony. He tried to grasp onto the domestic dream, hoping it would help not only him achieve peace, but the world. And it turned against him, and ended his chance at ever being free from the burden of being a hero (until Endgame). He created Ultron, the thing he would come to dread. 

Bruce

Bruce’s arc here is less clear, as Bruce is more coerced by Tony into creating Ultron and Jarvis and therefore the film gives him much less responsibility in the matter. Despite this, there are fascinating implications of Bruce becoming, like Tony, a father of these two AIs. The best way is to see them is in a callback to a small moment in the first Avengers film.

In the scene where Bruce and Nat first meet, he touches a baby cradle (splattered with green) and says “I don’t every time get what I want.”

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Along with the looks of longing Bruce has as he watches Natasha interact with Clint’s kids, it’s clear that he had wanted children. So isn’t it just a bitter and yet darkly hilarious turn of fate that Bruce is then the “father” of both Ultron- a literal supervillain that reflects Bruce’s worst fears about himself, but ALSO Vision, the scientific, heroic Messianic figure who is worthy enough to wield Mjolnir? Bruce, a man of dual natures, creates two equally dualling forces. That’s-

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In this, we get a little pushback on the theme of the Avengers not being able to have children. Bruce’s arc here suggests that, sure, they might mess them up and be bad parents, but perhaps not. Perhaps children can truly save the family tree. But sadly, we’ll never know for these characters. 

Age of Ultron uses a complex metaphorical framework, in both its language and visuals, to explore ideas about family. It comes to the conclusion that family, both in a biological sense and in a team-sense, is impossible for these heroes. This conclusion questions many of the traditional worldviews and themes of comic book stories, making Whedon’s film more subversive then it may initially appear. 

However, like any good piece of art, there are multiple themes and interpretations within this one film. So let’s take a look at a few more things Age of Ultron has to say.  

The Gospel According to Ultron

Steve tells the team in the pre-final battle speech: “Ultron thinks we’re monsters. That we’re what’s wrong with the world. This isn’t just about beating him. It’s about whether he’s right.” The movie, by showing us the monstrosity of its heroes throughout and denying them a chance of redemption through a happy family ending, seems to fall, in part, on the side of Ultron. Our heroes are what’s wrong with the world, but they’re also the best we have, because there are no other saviors. And speaking of there being no other saviors:

Age of Ultron is an atheistic movie. It sure doesn’t appear that way at first. Even a non-religious viewer will probably notice the references to biblical scripture, the religious imagery, and Vision, the messianic Christ figure who is born of men to save them from their own sins, literally calling himself, “I am.” But context matters, and in AOU, only the villain believes in a God. 

Ultron, despite being only days old, is more biblically literate than some of the most seasoned Christians. Throughout the film he quotes Scripture. For example, when he finds the vibranium metal he quotes Matthew 16:18, saying, “Upon this rock [vibranium] I will build my church.” When he tells Wanda and Pietro of his plan to turn Sokovia into a meteor to destroy the world, much to the twin’s dismay, he offers the comfort that, “The human race will have every opportunity to evolve.” When Pietro asks if they don’t, Ultron responds, “Ask Noah,” directly tying his plan to destroy the world into God’s in the Biblical story of Noah and the flood in Genesis. Ultron furthers his point by saying, “Whenever the earth starts to settle, God throws a stone at it. Believe me, he’s winding up,” and the stone is obviously Sokovia/meteor, which makes Ultron into God.

Ultron took in the entire internet at the beginning of the movie, but out of all the religions he could choose from, he chooses Christianity. He’s not quoting the Quran. He speaks beyond the language of metaphor. He speaks with complete assurance that there is a God. Yet it’s clear that Ultron is less interested in knowing God then actually being God. He is using religious imagery and stories to justify himself, the way many people abuse Christianity to justify themselves and various atrocities.

When Ultron first recruits the twins, he meets them in a church in Sokovia, where he sits on what looks to be a throne. Then, in the climax of the film, we find out that Ultron has made his fortress/hideout in that church in Sokovia. That is where he has implanted the device that will destroy the whole world. The final fight then takes place primarily inside the church as the Avengers work to stop the device. 

In other words, the Avengers literally have to destroy the church to bring peace. 

I think Joss Whedon might have some issues with organized religion. 

Whedon is a self-proclaimed atheist and humanist, and his worldview pulses through this film with every scene. Ultron is not just a manic A.I. or the spurned child of Tony Stark. He’s a religious extremist, who uses religion as a coat for his own desire to play God, and misuses Scripture to justify his actions. Meanwhile, the heroes are the ones who believe there is no God and take it into their own hands to make the earth better. Religious people are the delusional ones who, if not using religion to suppress others, use it as an excuse for their apathy, while the atheists/agnostics are realists who will actually make the world a better place.

Vision, Ultron’s foil, then is the perfect expression of Whedon’s alternative to religion, which is humanism. This may seem strange; consider what I said before about Vision being a messianic figure who refers to himself with God’s title of “I am,” but these lines of dialogue between Ultron and Vision at the very end summarize the film’s thesis on humanity:

Vision: Humans are odd. They think order and chaos are somehow opposites, and try to control what won’t. But there is grace in their failings. I think you missed that.

Ultron: They’re doomed.

Vision: Yes, but a thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts. It’s a privilege to be among them.

In the end, Vision does not save humankind. He helps save the day, and he reflects the best of the Avengers, but crucially, he is made by them. Pluggedin reviewer Paul Asay writes in his article over the topic that Tony is dutifully punished for creating Ultron, a false idol and god. If the movie had stopped at this, then there would have been a very biblical theme of not “messing in the divine act of life-creation.” But then he goes and makes Vision, who “is, in a way, a New Testament savior pitted against a wrathful, Old Testament-like god—an intercessor to stave off Ultron’s ultra-doom.” No longer do we have a man (Tony) who causes harm when he tries to create a god, but we have a man actually succeeding in creating a god, and now the theme is about humans overcoming through science and technology, which again is a triumph of Whedon’s ideology. 

This is part of what makes AOU stand apart from other Marvel movies. While I don’t agree with Whedon in this area, I love AOU’s philosophical quandaries that I don’t believe any other Marvel movie, besides Black Panther, has truly had. DC movies, particularly Batman vs Superman, have had some similar religious tones in their scripts, but there were no coherent ideas presented there. 

“You’re Not the Only Monster On the Team” – or, Why Y’all Need to Pay Attention to Subtext

This is it. This is the moment we’ve all been eagerly anticipating. We’re gonna think critically about that dang safehouse scene, the scene that gave us a hundred bad hot takes and made people say, “Joss Whedon thinks women who can’t give birth are monsters!” Guys, 

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The safehouse scene should only be watched out of context in Mark Ruffalo or Scarlett Johansson’s Oscar reel. That’s it. Otherwise, it has to be taken in context, because it’s crucial to understanding what’s happening. Remember: These are the characters at their worse. They have just been mind-controlled by Wanda and shown their worst nightmares about themselves. The entire team has been thoroughly beaten, and they are questioning everything. Everything the characters say should be taken with a grain of salt. 

We can infer between the movies that Nat, like Bruce, has come to see the Avengers as her family (she expresses this explicitly in Endgame). Revisiting her past, seeing the violent killing machine she was made into, shakes her entire trust in her ability to ever fit into the Avengers and be a hero. She tells Bruce in this scene: “I had a dream. The kind that seems real… that I was an Avenger.” 

Bruce only brings up the topic of children because he just saw Natasha interacting positively with Clint’s children. It’s not that he assumes she wants to be a mother because she’s a woman. He is caring about her needs and what he perceives to be her desires, so- and this is incredibly important- he brings up his infertility first. I can’t remember ever seeing a movie, much less a blockbuster, that treats a man’s inability to have children seriously and sees it as a tragedy, which is very much what the scene is about. We’re not supposed to just be sad for Natasha, we’re also supposed to be sad for Bruce. For both of them, because within the metaphorical framework of the film biological family means healing, and they literally can’t have it! He is being vulnerable, which gives her the space to be vulnerable. That’s a connection! That’s a relationship! That’s maturing and growing past their disgust with themselves and their inability to get over the past! That’s-

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I do think the placement of “you think you’re the only monster on the team” is ill-placed as it directly follows up Natasha’s reveal, and if it had been put maybe after another a line or two it could have avoided any ambiguity. But if you are watching the events as the film has presented them to you as- a moment where both characters are at their worst and are still operating out of deep-seeded self-destruction- then it makes complete sense!

Natasha is saying the Red Room made her into an assassin. Part of that process was being sterilized against her will, but that’s not what made her a monster. It was that she embraced and thrived in the role, and her vision suggests that she killed a lot of people to gain the favor of her instructors and become the top Black Widow. That’s why she is a monster. It’s because of the red in her ledger. 

Even in the least-charitable interpretation of the scene, if she was saying she’s a monster because she’s sterile, then remember: that’s the exact same thing Bruce is saying about himself. And also, if she did believe her infertility meant she was a monster or less of a woman, that is, unfortunately, a very real reflection on women who have been sexually assaulted and may take on blame or think it is their fault. I don’t think that’s what the scene is saying, but it could be read that way. Either way, both Bruce and Natasha believe they are monsters, and can’t come to forgive themselves. That’s why Bruce/Hulk leaves at the end of AOU and why Natasha sacrifices herself in Endgame. They are clearing the red in the ledger the only way they know how.

When Nat pushes Bruce off the cliff, she takes away his bodily autonomy, forcing him to become the Hulk and encouraging him to “go be a hero,” stating her faith that Hulk, like her, will find purpose in finishing the mission. But that shows a misunderstanding between the characters of the other’s core motivations. This could have been a great thing to explore and work through in future movies, but instead, they drop the whole romance subplot altogether because Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely are c o w a r d s.

In Conclusion

If you liked almost any other Marvel movie that came out after AOU, then you can thank AOU. Despite its mixed reputation and lower profile, it sets up more of the MCU then I think either Whedon or Marvel realized. 

There are so many other good reasons that this movie is the best besides all the ones I have laid out in excruciating detail. The quips! The great group chemistry! The action sequences are some of the more memorable for Marvel. It has one of the better scores that makes use of the international locales of the film. There are references for the comic book nerds (Helen and Amadeus Cho!!!!). Steve rips a log in half with his bare hands! This is when the Avengers still had distinct personalities and their senses of humor were different!

You don’t have to love Avengers: Age of Ultron now. But I do hope you reconsider it, and respect it. 

(And respect me. I’ve finally rested my case to the haters).

-Madeleine D.