Marvel’s The Avengers topped the worldwide box office for the third week in a row and scored a 93 % approval rating on rottentomatoes.com (247 positive reviews, 18 negative) so I am obviously in the minority here but this megabuck production which collects some of the fabled comic franchise’s biggest superheroes and plops them into one movie left me strangely, um, underwhelmed.
Having said that, I realize I have placed myself directly in the path of a rabid fanboy army and a bunch of formerly respected film critics desperate to sell their soul to remain hip and relevant in the New World Order.
To make matters worse, I can’t even put my cursor on what it is about the movie that didn’t click with me.
I mean, I’ve been reading Marvel Comics since I was kneehigh to a newsstand ….
and although I am not a card-carrying Joss Whedon fan (he co-wrote and directed the movie) everything he has been involved with (that I’ve seen) worked for me (shucks, I even watched Dollhouse and was pissed when they pinkslipped it after less than two seasons).
In terms of casting well, Samuel L. Jackson (Nick Fury), Robert Downey Jr. (Iron Man), Mark Ruffalo (Hulk) and Jeremy Renner (Hawkeye) are on an (admittedly short) list of contemporary actors I admire and as for Scarlett Johansson in a form-fitting catsuit, well, be still, my foolish heart (I think I spelled that right.)
So what is it about this movie that made me feel as if … to borrow a popular fanboy phrase … that’s two hours and twenty minutes of my life that I can’t get back?
Well, maybe it’s the paperthin plot or maybe there was just too many CGI-saturated battle scenes.
Whatever. By the time the skies opened up over the Big Apple and an alien army started trashing Manhattan I was too shellshocked to finish my popcorn.