Man of Steel understands Superman well enough to know he should be taken seriously, even if it doesn't always quite know how to make that understanding real.By Serdar Yegulalp on 2013/12/17 13:00
The problem with comic book movies is that it's too easy to give people what they think they want, instead of what they need. Man of Steel is a case study in such a contradiction. For the great majority of its running time, it's a dazzling and thought-provoking exploration of the Superman mythos, where tough questions are raised about what it would mean to be Clark Kent in a world that would almost certainly mistrust and fear him. Then it turns into a PlayStation game, mostly as a way to shut up all the fans who wanted to see Superman punch things, and while the fun didn't end there for me, it did get dialed down a whole lot.
Maybe it's just the Superman fan in me talking when I say the movie still works despite all that. But if there's one thing I've learned in my time as both a fan and a critic, it's that some of my favorite films are not the perfect ones, but the ones that struggle against their own very evident flaws and still somehow deliver. Man of Steel is flawed in ways that draw me back to it, because when seen in the right light those flaws are also revelatory. They say at least as much about our attitudes towards this sort of material as they speak of any shortcomings in the film itself.
The cruel cost of the samurai code, across the generations.By Serdar Yegulalp on 2013/12/16 10:00
"The problem with Japanese movies today," I said to someone else not long ago, "is that all their teeth have been pulled." The samurai movies of the 1960s and 1970s -- Goyokin, Shura, Samurai Rebellion, Hara-kiri, most any of Kurosawa's films -- were bold and nondoctrinaire, daring Japan to challenge its own image of itself, and with an unsparing view of how the samurai code of old was not only inhumane but counterproductive. Today, the mood is far more sentimental (When the Last Sword is Drawn) than it is confrontatory. Only rarely do maverick productions like Gojoe, or Battle Royale for that matter, come along.
Tadashi Imai's Bushido, from 1963, belongs alongside all the rest of those cage-rattling samurai productions, but for multiple reasons. It's a creative look at how the samurai code destroyed and stunted the lives of those who practiced it, by following several generations of men from the same family down from samurai days of yore to the present day, where such a code incarnates itself as deference to authority that takes away with both hands what it bestowes with one. The film also works as a vehicle for one of Japan's most flamboyant and commanding actors from that period, Kinnosuke Nakamura, and one of the natural end results of watching this film ought to be to seek out most everything else he's been in.
Science fiction, rebooted.
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