Unease has surrounded Marvel's "Captain Marvel", perhaps for good reason, considering the insinuating comments aimed at certain sectors of potential followers. Also, to perpetuate concern, "The Last Jedi", "The Shape of Water", CW's "Supergirl", the current "Doctor Who" and the more-fiction-than-fact "Professor Marston and the Wonder Women" set the ugly pace by dishing degrees of "reversed discrimination" (bigotry by any other name, folks...), thus alienating those who by tradition have granted support to such endeavors, while making those on the fence wary to invest.
After viewing "Captain Marvel", I can say it's neither an utter turncoat to open-mindedness or a proponent of sugar-coated contempt, but as with "The Last Jedi'"s "Solo" aftermath, it takes a cold, bland turn to make its point.
And what is its point? Why, to castigate evil, and for the sake of this prequel, doing so during a give-or-take time when a divide between the factions played in all philosophical sectors of pop-cultural life. Hey, that righteous vibe caused the Berlin Wall to fall, right? Alas, though "Captain Marvel" may occupy the past, its conscientious sensibility has been reduced to meager decor.
At any rate, the film introduces us to Carol Danvers, played by Brie "Kong: Skull Island" Larson, an Air Force captain who gets transitioned into something more Kree than earthling, though it does appear she always had the right, alien stuff inside her. It only had to be unleashed.
This version of the character also skims a lot of her comic-book history. For the record, she was once known as Warbird, Binary and Ms. Marvel, performing as the protege of another called Captain Marvel, who's name was stolen from an apparition conjured by the incantation, "Shazam!". Jude Law (who was once considered to play Kal-El and Zod) acts as her charismatic mentor, Yon-Rogg, but he comes and goes, then comes and goes again...and again. That's that.
Once Danvers' Hal Jordan-knockoff origin is fixed, she crosses paths with Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson: Larson's "Skull Island" costar) and Phil Coulson (Clark Gregg), who inadvertently join her crusade against a crafty Skrull who appears to be the movie's prime antagonist, Talos, played by Ben "Robin Hood" Mendelsohn, but not all is as it seems.
In fact, that's Danvers' dilemma and the film's subtle motif: Who can she trust, if she can't trust herself due to a muddled memory?
That's the gist of it, and that would be more than sufficient, if the movie only spurt some spirit. Directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck are competent directors (the film flows at an even clip), and the mythic mix-match (thanks to too many screenwriters to mention here) is viable, but again, something is missing.
I do believe it's a lack of credible commitment to the cause. Danvers' screen embodiment is affable, but she requires more than she's dealt to hit the empathetic mark. I'm not talking physical prowess, but rather an expressed understanding of what she's doing and what she's fighting.
Perhaps that should have been better defined during the fleeting flashbacks and resulting revelations. Instead, there are times when Danvers' alternating attire appears more a part of her personality than what one can presume lies inside: good for flash, but not plot.
Talos' presence does help, but once his "secret" is revealed, he can't help but steal every scene he's in, which leaves out titular heroine looking lopsided in comparison.
Most vexing is that various episodes of "S.H.I.E.L.D.", "Agent Carter" and "Inhumans" are indisputably stronger than this venture. Maybe if the film had discarded its hallow, graphic gloss (in a vain attempt for "Doctor Strange" surrealism) and fell more in line with those old, unpretentious "Incredible Hulk" movie-of-the-week revivals, the set-up would've felt more sincere. In other words, through sentimental smallness, "Captain Marvel" could have made a huge statement, not merely on feminist derring-do, but humanity in general.
Though I'm relieved the movie didn't over-pander to those oversensitive SJWs, it still doesn't fly the way its comic-book counterpart does. For a chapter holding such promised importance (a prelude to "Endgame", no less), it should have landed more identifiable punch. What stands plays like a nervous test run and not the commanding submission it could have been.
Sorry, but tepid tries should never characterize the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and they should certainly never define their tried-and-true icons.
Guy Ritchie's "King Arthur: Legend of the Sword" is arguably as offbeat an interpretation of a classic character as is his Sherlock Holmes. It also exudes a Bondian ambiance: not quite like Ritchie's "Man From U.N.C.L.E." remake, but still succinct enough for detection. These traits give the story its distinction, its style and most importantly, its guts; and all confined to a mythology we may not have expected.
What a relief that in this age of lame reinterpretations, the writer/director didn't make Arthur Pendragon a sniffling kid with whom millennials can identify. (Really, like any member of that sissified sect would possess the required fortitude, let alone the respectful perspective, to admire any member of burgeoning Camelot. Do they even teach Arthurian legend in schools these days? Doubt it!)
Acting as the rough-and-tough Arthur is Charlie "Sons of Anarchy" Hunnam. It's cool to see this "street-wise" guy stumble into the scene and yank Excalibur from its stone. We can easily believe this son of a gun capable of leading the masses, with or without a supernatural blade and/or any other form of divine intervention. Ritchie's version also makes it clear that though Arthur stems from royal roots, he's an underdog in his fight to regain his ordained right. In all other respects, he emerges as a conscientious biker type, existing centuries before such would have ever roamed the scene. Clever.
Jude Law is King Vertigern, Arthur's uncle: so rotten and self-entitled that his contemptuous actions lead to his brother (Eric "Hulk" Bana)'s death. Even without such blood on his hands, Vertigern would still beam a troubling light. In fact, Law makes his character not only the staple, mad magician, but a full-fledged snoot, similar to those modern-era professors and conniving politicians who tell us what to think and do. (Gee, those misguided millennials might actually fancy this phony despot and go the extra mile to keep him in "office". Hardy har har!) The inclusion of Uncle Vertigern's elitist ilk is, therefore, ideal villainy, giving us proponents of virtue further reason to cheer the brawny Pendragon on.
As far as Lancelot goes, forget it. He's nonexistent in this edition, since we're dealing solely with Arthur's ascension. With that in mind, this film plays like a big prelude to something even bigger, rather like Ridley Scott's "Robin Hood", though that ambitious venture never sprung a Russell Crowe sequel. One can only wonder if Ritchie's film might face the same fate, but if that's the case, so be it.
We're at least granted other significant personas (some classic and a few pulled from left field), including Kamil Lemieszewski's Merlin (though he's, alas, merely a referenced, background fixture) and Djimon Hounsou's courageous Sir Bedivere (an undeniable force throughout the film). The legendary Mordred even makes an appearance, albeit out of mythological place, in the guise of Rob Knighton, but for more basic, trustworthy manifestations, there's Freddie Fox's Rubio and Aidian Gillen's Goosefat Bill.
The film also dishes up several ladies to catch our eye, as fetching as any one might find in any modern espionage try. They include Annabelle Wallis as Maggie; Katie McGrath (who interestingly enough, played Morgana on BBC's "Merlin") as Elsa; Poppy Delevigne as Queen Igraine; Millie Brady as Princess Catia; Georgina Campbell as Kay; and (drum roll please...) Astrid Berges-Frisbey (who played an enchanting, killer mermaid in "Stranger Tides") as the Mage, but we damn well know she's really Guinevere in disguise. Fortunately, none of these ladies inflict romance upon our sword-anointed protagonist, which may seem unorthodox, but for this refashioned origin, it was wise of Ritchie (and his coauthors, David Dobkin, Joby Harold and Lionel Wigram) to have pulled in the reins.
As the movie mounts, its mission remains steadfast, layering on revenge, honor and merciless melees on every occasion. Those seeking an effortless outcome between the sides can look elsewhere, for the conflict contained is realistically cruel and on occasion even monster-laden. Those who fight the good fight are the type we'd be honored to call friends (and fellow soldiers), which makes this film an easy ride, despite its boisterous brutality, snarky slant and two-hour-plus running time.
It is, therefore, that solidifying camaraderie (and the related cause to nurture the kingdom) that remains all-consuming; but hasn't that always been the gist of early Camelot? As with any version, Arthur and his friends are the legend's clinging contenders. When victory does hit (and how could it not?), it truly lifts the spirits, the feeling as traditional as it's radical.
For those who prefer their heroes strong and their revitalized legends even stronger, this Pendragon serving is a veritable meat-and-potatoes treat, guaranteed to fill one's belly with virile pride. Indeed, hail to the king!!!
