It must be an election year. The latest entries in DC’s and Marvel’s superhero franchises, Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice and Captain America: Civil War, feature heated, campaign-like debates on how to keep the world safe from organized violence. International terrorism is now the go-to villain in the universe of comic book fantasy films and other action genres, as well as American politics. Not only are superheroes struggling with personal problems and the uneasy relationship between their humanity and superhuman abilities, they’re also arguing with each other over the strategic and ethical aspects of maintaining security in an increasingly unstable world. Is that why these movies are becoming so much gloomier? The responsibilities of power, the tragic consequences of past decisions, the burdens of guilt—such hefty issues weigh the heroes down and load their films with as much angst as action, if not more. It's an inevitable result of burdening larger-than-life figures from pop mythology with global-size problems.
Batman’s beef with Superman ostensibly concerns the destruction of downtown Metropolis and the death of innocent bystanders during his fight with General Zod in Man of Steel (2013). Bruce Wayne witnesses the battle firsthand (he was in Metropolis on business, it’s revealed) and stands by helplessly as one of his employees is seriously maimed by falling debris. The incident recalls the trauma Wayne experienced as a boy when he watched his parents being gunned down in front of him. It’s no coincidence that Batman’s suit has been increasing in size with each new installment in the series. Psychologically, Bruce Wayne needs to wall himself off from more and more pain—he literally needs a thicker skin, heavier emotional armor. In the Christopher Nolan-directed trilogy (Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, The Dark Knight Rises), Batman wore an armored suit that was solid but supple enough to accommodate his acrobatics. In Batman v. Superman, he wears a suit so bulked up and stiff he looks like a Transformer. Watching him lumber into battle is the antithesis of excitement.
But the scenario’s attention to psychic pain is eclipsed by the isolationist and nativist strains in Batman’s anti-Superman crusade. Superman is from an alien world--the late planet Krypton--and his presence on Earth has made it a target for the enemies who have tracked him here. Many people view him as an interloper doing more harm than good and call for his banishment or death in order to protect Earth’s inhabitants. Manipulated by megalomaniac Lex Luthor (a scene-chewing Jesse Eisenberg), who wants Superman out of the way for his own Machiavellian ends, Bruce Wayne converts to the cause of defeating Superman. For him, as for many others, the wars of outer space belong in outer space, far from our world’s borders. It all sounds very familiar.
The plot of Captain America: Civil War is similarly charged with current politics. The central issue is whether the Avengers should continue to operate independently or answer to the world’s nations for their actions. The superheroes have saved lives, even the whole planet, but at a huge cost. Smashed cityscapes and mounting civilian deaths are collateral damage the world is no longer comfortable accepting. Things have gotten way more complicated than when the heroes first came together to save Earth from invasion by Thor’s crazy half-brother Loki in The Avengers (2012). The price of salvation has climbed too high in the intervening years. Now world leaders want the Avengers to ask them for permission before going into action. They present the superheroes with an agreement that would exchange their independence for oversight by the U.N.
The group splits into two factions, those in favor of signing the agreement and those against. The hold-outs are led by—no surprise—Captain America (Chris Evans). There’s no misreading this perhaps inevitable symbolism, but such predictability is offset by the surprise leader of the opposing side—industrial maverick and perpetual bad boy Tony Stark/Iron Man (Robert Downey, Jr.). Choosing the irreverent Stark to make the case for cooperation and responsible behavior is a sly move on the part of the writers. There’s obvious irony at work here but perhaps something insidious as well. Tony Stark is a corporate tycoon, a privileged scion of Big Money, presumably dependent on cozy relations between industry and government to maintain his wealth and position. In his person, the plea for diplomacy/international cooperation/One World harmony is merged with the interests of big business. If Stark advocates collaboration between nations, is it for security and peace alone or also to keep the world economy robust and his profit margin high? This potential conflict of interest puts Iron Man’s righteousness in an ambivalent light--and, by association, the proposal placing superheroes in the service of international bureaucracy. By contrast, Captain America’s championing of self-determination and the right to pursue unilateral action regardless of world opinion—problematic in real circumstances–seems a purer form of heroism.
The tensions caused by the philosophical split explode in the film’s action centerpiece, a rumble between the two teams of Avengers on an airport tarmac. The sequence is exuberant fun, the kind of cleverly choreographed mayhem that’s become the hallmark of Marvel films, the Avengers franchise in particular. That it’s all rather silly is beside the point. This is where movie money is spent and made. Still, it largely feels like much ado about nothing. The rivals aren’t trying to kill each other—one side is simply trying to stop the other side from going on an unauthorized mission—and it’s not made why a disagreement like that should lead to an epic blowout. Why don’t Captain American and his crew simply make a run for it? It would mean less spectacle but perhaps be more interesting, watching who pursues who, what kinds of pairings/rivalries emerge. Instead, a fast-moving free-for-all exchanges fight partners so frequently it’s nearly impossible to keep straight who’s on which side. Perhaps the film’s major flaw is this: its inability to dispel the impression that the sides were chosen arbitrarily in the first place.
In the long run, though, it’s not that important. The only rivalry the film is serious about is the one between the leaders, Captain America and Iron Man. That pays off in a powerful finale deep within a Siberian fortress when the two lock in gladiatorial combat so fierce it surpasses every climactic Avengers duel in the series so far. (The much longer and louder fight between Batman and Superman possesses only a fraction of the drama.) The resulting bruises are more than physical: in the course of the battle, Oedipal issues explode like a buried land mine, and Iron Man’s wounds go deep. His armor survives the beating, but Tony Stark’s doesn’t.
Downey is superb throughout. The film is Captain America’s in title only--it belongs to Downey all the way. After a weak third Iron Man film, and his reduction to trickster antagonist in Avengers: Age of Ultron, Stark/Iron Man is back as the heart and soul of the Marvel universe. The reason is simple: Iron Man is the one superhero who’s more interesting as a human than as his costumed alter ego. Iron Man’s armor is cool and his combat skills exceptional, but it’s Tony Stark that rocks the screen. When he disappears inside the suit, Iron Man’s impact is lessened because we’re deprived of the full range of Downey’s energy as the mercurial, brilliant, exasperating billionaire. Downey had been refining this character his whole career before first donning the mantle of Tony Stark in 2008, mixing brashness, conceit, and snarky wit with vulnerability and boyish appeal. In Stark, he found the perfect vehicle for this potent cocktail. It was, and still is, an inspired match between performer and role.
Which is good, because some of the other performers are beginning to look tired in theirs. The icy bravado that distinguished Scarlett Johansson’s Black Widow in earlier films is mostly missing from this one, making her presence less compelling. Supporting superheroes like Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner) and War Machine (Don Cheadle) aren’t given enough screen time to establish believable motives for their choice of sides. Renner and Cheadle inject life into their parts with typically deft handling of one-liners, but their characters have been marginalized. Partly making up for this energy drain, two new figures are introduced into the mix--Black Panther (Chadwick Boseman) and a new incarnation of Spider-Man (Tom Holland). Both generate excitement, especially Boseman as the African prince who doubles as a crime fighter with mysterious motives. Perhaps not coincidentally, most of Batman v. Superman’s best moments also belong to a newcomer, Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot). Wonder Woman’s debut on the big screen is long overdue, but the Israeli actress’s dynamic performance makes it obvious that waiting for Gadot to fill Wonder Woman’s costume was the smart thing to do.
Captain America: Civil War effectively exploits the paradox of mythical figures grappling with modern day issues. The contemporary world is a problematic context for risky, self-motivated heroics, and Captain America credibly dramatizes the difficulties those accustomed to unquestioned action in the past encounter when renegotiating their roles in the highly scrutinized, morally complex present. Batman v. Superman’s attempt to do the same is superficial by comparison, but at least it shares the core themes that make both, and other recent superhero movies, more than escapist fantasy: family, identity, power and responsibility, security vs. civil liberties, collective vs. individual freedom, citizen oversight of the police, collateral damage during wartime, the tragedy of global terror, international cooperation v. unilateral action.
The contrasting tones of the two endings are instructive. Batman v. Superman, the visually darker film, ends on a note of reconciliation and hope. As characters and spectators mourn a fallen hero, the film’s final image hints at rebirth and renewal. Captain America’s final moments are more pessimistic. Reconciliation between the estranged Avengers and the return of peace seem a much remoter possibility. Choosing ambiguity over reassurance once again signals the latter film's greater emotional depth and more sophisticated appreciation of the way reality works. In this age of acrimonious division and highly polarized politics, easy answers may be offered but are not truly to be found.
Despite the pervasive rhetoric about Hollywood liberalism, the views of both films are basically conservative. Each conveys in its own way the message that mistrusting superior authority is ultimately wrong. The less conflicted, unapologetic good guys, Superman and Captain America, are the ones we will be looking to for salvation in the promised sequels. Either through sober reflection on human frailty or thrilling anticipation of fulfilled destiny, the final scenes of both movies are united by a shared vision: the ultimate triumph of the superior champions’ will.
