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Movie Reviews

Zack Snyder’s Justice League

Warner Bros, 2021

Director’s cuts are not an uncommon occurrence in the movie industry. We’ve seen classics like Blade Runner and Apocalypse Now improve upon the already iconic finished products and some not as successful attempts (sorry George Lucas). Zack Snyder’s Justice League may be the most deserving of all for its director to be given a second chance, with the original 2017 film caught in a storm of personal grievances and restrictive studio mandates which eventually led to his replacement by Avengers director Joss Whedon. The resulting product was a surface level fight-fest, with nary a full character arc in sight, that attempted to please studio executives rather than the fan base rampant to see out Snyder’s vision, which began with 2013’s excellent Man of Steel. Finally, after years of vehement online support, Warner Bros acquiesced, allowing Snyder to present his full, gigantic 4 hour vision of the ultimate DC super-hero team-up on streaming services around the world. Does it live up to the hype? Yes and no. Let’s get into it.

For the uninitiated, the broad strokes of Justice League centre around Batman (Ben Affleck) and Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot) attempting to recruit a team of super-powered individuals to fight against the oncoming threat of Steppenwolf (Ciarán Hinds), an intergalactic being hell-bent on destroying the Earth and cultivating it into an apocalyptic wasteland for big bad Darkseid (Ray Porter). In order to do this, he must collect the DC equivalent of the Infinity Stones, the Mother Boxes; three cubes scattered across the globe which, when combined, create an unstoppable force to change the planet to the user’s will. As the newly formed Justice League – now including Aquaman (Jason Momoa), Flash (Ezra Miller) and Cyborg (Ray Fisher) – clash with Steppenwolf, they begin to realise that their only way to achieve victory may be through some less than ethical means and a recently deceased Kryptonian.

Warner Bros, 2021

Simply put, Zack Snyder’s Justice League is the vastly superior version of the film, feeling like far more of a thematically and tonally consistent sequel to Man of Steel and Batman v Superman than Whedon’s cut. Narratively it is a very similar beast, with majority of the big action set-pieces remaining intact, but where Whedon’s version threw away character development and story in favour of quippy one-liners and mindless filler scuffles, Snyder restores these aspects, with a particular focus placed on the characters of Cyborg and Steppenwolf, two of the most underserved and generic characters from the 2017 film. Cyborg’s origin and relationship with his father is the emotional centre of the film, leaving the baffling question as to why Whedon chose to remove the only fully fledged character arc from his movie. Fisher is wonderful as the troubled half-man half-machine, conflicted over his feelings towards his father’s work that left him alive but cost him his mother and any semblance of a normal life. No longer does Cyborg simply become a hero after a pep-talk from Wonder Woman, but from some serious soul-searching and forgiveness, a theme Ben Affleck’s caped crusader learnt the hard way in Batman v Superman.

Ciarán Hinds’ incompetent villain Steppenwolf is also reworked into a more sympathetic character this time around, less concerned with collecting macguffins to destroy the world than he is to serve out a debt owed to Darkseid and win back his place as the right-hand man of DC’s answer to Thanos. Sure this may be shown in something of a clumsy and eerily relatable way, with Steppenwolf communicating with his boss via a series of magical Zoom calls, but using redemption as a motivator following an implied betrayal of Darkseid makes for a much more interesting character. Steppenwolf’s revamp extends to the visual side as well, marking a significant upgrade for the creature who has gone from a poorly rendered, gladiator armour wearing alien to a ferocious, spike clad minion of death, worthy of the threat Snyder insistently reminds us he is to the newly formed league of heroes. The scenes involving Steppenwolf also showcase a new feature of the Snyder Cut: the R rating. Gore features heavily as Steppenwolf slices and dices his way through scores of Amazonian and Atlantean soldiers, who explode in puffs of viscera at the blade of his lethal axe. It’s an unneeded touch for sure, likely to alienate the ever-present audience of young children who come to these films to see Superman and Wonder-Woman kick butt without any evidence of actual harm, but it certainly fits in with Snyders MO of throwing everything at his likely last outing in the DC universe.

Warner Bros, 2021

That’s right, all the quirks that come with Zack Snyder’s style are present here on a scale larger than anything we have seen before. That includes some truly cringe inducing dialogue, a return to the gritty, grounded characters of before (gone is the giddily childish humour of Whedon) and as much slow-motion action that the human mind can physically endure before exploding. Seriously, at times it feels like a quarter of the film is just slow-motion shots of our heroes narrowly avoiding a bullet or pushing something out of the way of harm. The lack of a restriction on runtime allows for all sorts of overindulgence on Snyder’s part, from an extended scene of hymns to Aquaman sung by an Icelandic village to an almost Return of the King number of endings, including the much hyped “Knightmare” sequence, which serves as an intriguing, if unfulfilling look at where Snyder’s proposed trilogy of films would have gone. Jared Leto’s singular scene as the Joker here is better than the entirety of Suicide Squad, even if it is about a fraction of the length of that mess, but doesn’t elevate the film significantly or warrant a complete viewing on its own merits.

The continued narrative of Superman continues to be Snyder’s greatest contribution to this iteration of the DC universe, even if he doesn’t lean into the character’s moral compass as much as in Man of Steel, with his endlessly positive message of hope ringing louder now than ever. It is genuinely exciting to see him return to save the day, and the touches of Hans Zimmer’s Man of Steel score in Thomas Holkenborg’s completely re-recorded and otherwise rather generic score are goosebump inducing during the climactic fight scenes. Cavill’s performance is one for the ages and the fact that this may very well be the last time we see him don the blue and red (or black this time around) suit can’t help but feel bittersweet, especially given this film’s lack of importance to the overarching DC story going forward, with Warner Bros declaring Whedon’s cut the canonical entry in the franchise. There is some retribution in knowing that Cavill’s last appearance as the Man of Steel isn’t marred by a digitally removed moustache (Google it) but here’s hoping it isn’t the last time we see him on-screen.

Warner Bros, 2021

Zack Snyder’s Justice League is a fascinating experiment of a film. Whilst it is an undoubtedly good thing that Snyder was allowed to see out his full creative vision, the fact remains that this version of the superhero epic – whilst superior to Whedon’s – is at times a bloated, directionless cluster bomb of a movie, with the director let loose to throw everything and the kitchen sink into the viewer’s eyeballs: the good, the bad and the godawful slow-motion (seriously stop doing that). As a continuation of his previous DC work, this feels like a satisfactory, suitably epic conclusion, even if the epilogue scene doesn’t convey that sense of finality. While it is easy to look at the Snyder Cut as a win, it also represents something of the toxic side of fandom, where “fan ownership” of characters leads to the bullying of studios and individuals into getting what they want. I’m more than curious to see what Zack Snyder would do with the sequels to this film and I genuinely hope they get made, but only if the creative team has genuine interest and supports the project, not as a result of a bunch of bullish, entitled fans. When part of the fandom turns as dark as Darkseid’s minions, no one wins.

Warner Bros, 2021

Zack Snyder’s Justice League stars Ben Affleck, Gal Gadot, Ezra Miller, Jason Momoa, Ray Fisher, Amy Adams, Diane Lane, Willem Dafoe, Jesse Eisenberg, Jeremy Irons, Connie Nielsen, J.K. Simmons, Ciarán Hinds, Amber Heard, Joe Morton and Henry Cavill – Streaming on HBO Max in the US and on Binge in Australia now.

Categories
Movie Reviews

Hillbilly Elegy

Netflix, 2020

As the poster for his latest work says, Ron Howard has made many great movies – A Beautiful Mind and Apollo 13 to name a few. On the other hand, films like The Dilemma prove that some of his work does fall below average now and then. His latest Netflix produced feature, Hillbilly Elegy, sits squarely in the middle; a stock-standard awards-bait drama that doesn’t really have a lot to say other than some fairly rote dialogue about the lower class having to rely on tough love to get through their troubles. The acting is typically great from veteran performers Amy Adams and Glenn Close, but outside of that the film never finds a groove or a spark to get things moving in a way that is unlike anything you’ve seen before in a thousand “just fine” dramas.

Our guide into this backwoods American world is young J.D. Vance (Gabriel Basso), third generation in the Vance clan on the cusp of escaping his lower class roots and achieving great things at Yale law school. Just as he begins to take that education to the next level through legal internships, he’s drawn back to his old home of Ohio by the news that his mother Bev (Amy Adams) has relapsed and overdosed on heroin. With a day before a pivotal interview, J.D. heads home to assist his sister Lindsay (Haley Bennett) in finding the Vance matriarch a rehabilitation facility. During the trip J.D. begins to reminisce about his childhood in Ohio; where he struggled with abuse at the hands of his mother, eventually moving in with his grandmother Mamaw (Glenn Close) to complete his schooling. As J.D. comes to understand his mother and grandmother’s own struggles from the past, he begins to forgive them for their weaker moments and thank them for the lessons he has carried through to adulthood.

Netflix, 2020

The biggest issue here is just how scatterbrained and non-focused the story seems. Howard seems unsure whether to focus on the drug addiction Bev struggles with, the poverty which has impacted the Vance family or J.D.’s attempts to escape his past, ultimately touching on all of them but never taking that deep dive into a central story to carry us through the film. J.D.’s journey back to Ohio is constantly interspersed with flashback scenes of him as a young child (played by Owen Asztalos) wherein we see these pivotal moments in the young man’s life that have prompted him to strive for a better future. Only there seems to be one pivotal moment that really sparks a change, and it is about as contrived and convenient as you can get, with the last 20 minutes of the film tying the flashbacks and modern day story together. All the earlier flashbacks, you then realise, serve no purpose other than showcasing some stellar acting. Bev’s drug addiction storyline has a lot of potential and Adams is totally locked in and committed to the character, but there just isn’t much commentary on addiction that hasn’t been seen before. It is ultimately a cycle with Bev in its clutches and J.D. helpless to aid her. The place where the film leaves her character doesn’t at all tie up with the pre-credits text (detailing the real Bev’s progress) and serves to leave the whole storyline seeming unfinished.

The characterisation of J.D.’s mother and grandmother are excellently brought to life by Adams and Close – no doubt about it they should (and will likely) be in contention for the big awards come Oscar season. The prosthetics and makeup work on Close alone is phenomenal and only once you see footage of the real Mamaw in the credits do you understand just how picture perfectly accurate she looks. Amy Adams swings for the fences in every scene, showing some real humanity and light in her eyes in the quieter moments, which is often overshadowed by the rage and craziness that ensues when her drug habits kick back in. These scenes are great to watch, just to see actors of this caliber giving it their all. When the mother and daughter do eventually face off it is electric, dripping with unbridled anger and tension as you expect the situation to devolve from a heated argument to fisticuffs at any moment. The issue with a lot of these scenes is that they don’t add much to the overarching story of J.D. other than to say he comes from a place of violence and is used to “tough love”.

Netflix, 2020

That phrase really seems to be the hill that Hillbilly Elegy dies on. That no matter how badly you are treated and how dire your circumstances, the people in your family love you regardless. That is all well and good but the film has a hell of a way of showing it, especially in the turn of Glenn Close’ Mamaw, who for so much of the film is the understanding shoulder J.D. cries on when his mother is out of control, but who, when J.D. goes to live with her, turns into the very thing he was running from. Tough love is hard to express when there doesn’t seem to be much “love” involved. Screaming and beating your grandson isn’t all forgiven because you walk away and smile to yourself because he passed a maths test and he happened to see you. Ultimately Howard ends the picture with some optimism and hope that things will turn out alright for J.D. (which they have in reality) but one small, minutes-long montage scene hardly makes up for the previous hour and a half of deeply unsettling viewing. This isn’t something you would throw on for a relaxing Sunday afternoon watch, it is a hard, exhausting watch of the realities facing the lower class who aspire to realise the “American Dream”.

Every year there seems to be one or two awards contender films that only really seem present because of the phenomenal performances of the talent involved. Hillbilly Elegy falls squarely into that category, with some solid, if unremarkable, directing from Ron Howard and a fairly rote, paint-by-numbers plot that is buoyed by absolutely brilliant turns from Amy Adams and Glenn Close. While it is worth a watch for these performances alone, Hillbilly Elegy will soon fade out of memory, similar to the way it asks you to forget that child abuse is a bad thing for two uncomfortable hours of your life.

Netflix, 2020

Hillbilly Elegy stars Amy Adams, Glenn Close, Gabriel Basso, Hayley Bennett, Owen Asztalos & Freida Pinto – Streaming on Netflix now.