Avengers and comics and things
May. 7th, 2012 01:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sienamysticSo, my comic book dorkiness never actually encompassed the majority of the Avengers in their solo works, let alone their group books. As a little kid, I read Batman, Superman, and Spiderman almost exclusively (with a smattering of Scrooge McDuck and other Disney comics), and mostly those were comics picked up on my family's many cross-country drives. And then, in the late eighties, I went through a big X-Men thing where I read a ton of stuff and bought a bunch of back issues (and holographic trading cards, god help me), with just a tiny sprinkling of Sandman in after a friend recommended them. (This era is why I have an unabashed love for Gambit/Rogue, Pryde/Wisdom, Polaris/Havoc, and Banshee/White Queen, by the way.)
My love for the Avengers, separately and together, has all come from the movies. Since I'm on Tumblr and following a bunch of more dedicated comic folk, I've gotten to see some backstory in panels people put up and comment on, but I'm ok with just knowing rough outlines. So really, how did I end up so excited about all these characters? Without that knowledge of the comics, was I coming into the story without the spearpoints that Jo Walton described, which can be so important to emotional impact in storytelling. I might not have enough forward momentum to bring me into the story on a level deeper than "ooh, 'splosions and funny!" But the movies (barring the various Hulks, which I didn't watch) have been so excellent in their own individual ways, and interconnected just carefully enough, that I fell in love with them in this particular medium, and came to this movie with as much excitement as if these had been my nine-year-old self's favorite comic book purchase at the Stucky's somewhere off a highway.
The first ten-fifteen minutes or so were a little stiff. I was starting to get worried. And then, at some point I have not yet precisely determined, things started to roll downhill at a fast and awesome speed.
What I really love most, and what Joss Whedon tends to do so very well, is set up a group of people with widely varying personalities, and let them bounce off each other. So unexpectedly, I fall in love with Bruce/Hulk, partly because of the Tony-and-Bruce-Let's-Be-Science-Bros thing. Steve is unexpectedly cheered by finally, finally getting a pop culture reference buried inside Tony's fast-paced jabbering. (Can you imagine how alien most of the people around Steve must sound? That's got to take a while to get used to.) Natasha and Clint turn into this gorgeous duo, all honor codes and fights where you don't get to hit your opponent from a safe distance. You have to do it up close and personal.
Of course I mumbled under my breath about Coulson's death. The man knew what was going on to the point where he fridged himself. Aaaagh. Although I'm weirdly certain that he'll be back. I really, really hope he will be. REALLY REALLY.
Tony and Pepper, and remembering Jane (why no Darcy? There needs to be more Darcy), and Natasha getting to be a member of the team without turning her into the token hot chick. Thor trying to figure out his wayward brother.
The thing is, if you build up this kind of connective tissue, it makes all the big action setpieces resonate. It makes them live, it gets us invested. Otherwise they just turn into emptiness. There's probably nothing I like better than a really smart genre film, and this is a pretty good example of that. I ranted earlier in someone else's LJ about a condescending-as-fuck Slate reviewer talking about how clearly Joss Whedon's brand of humor had been brought to bear on this movie because it's the only way adults will excuse themselves for watching this sort of silly tripe meant for kiddies - if we couldn't say to ourselves, "But it's ironic!" than of course we'd stay away from the big pretty popcorn movie only meant for kids. Screw that. I've never been particularly attached to a nerd identity, but there's no better way to get me to fly into a pure, unholy nerd rage than people who think that if a story fits a "lesser" genre, the story automatically has no value.
My love for the Avengers, separately and together, has all come from the movies. Since I'm on Tumblr and following a bunch of more dedicated comic folk, I've gotten to see some backstory in panels people put up and comment on, but I'm ok with just knowing rough outlines. So really, how did I end up so excited about all these characters? Without that knowledge of the comics, was I coming into the story without the spearpoints that Jo Walton described, which can be so important to emotional impact in storytelling. I might not have enough forward momentum to bring me into the story on a level deeper than "ooh, 'splosions and funny!" But the movies (barring the various Hulks, which I didn't watch) have been so excellent in their own individual ways, and interconnected just carefully enough, that I fell in love with them in this particular medium, and came to this movie with as much excitement as if these had been my nine-year-old self's favorite comic book purchase at the Stucky's somewhere off a highway.
The first ten-fifteen minutes or so were a little stiff. I was starting to get worried. And then, at some point I have not yet precisely determined, things started to roll downhill at a fast and awesome speed.
What I really love most, and what Joss Whedon tends to do so very well, is set up a group of people with widely varying personalities, and let them bounce off each other. So unexpectedly, I fall in love with Bruce/Hulk, partly because of the Tony-and-Bruce-Let's-Be-Science-Bros thing. Steve is unexpectedly cheered by finally, finally getting a pop culture reference buried inside Tony's fast-paced jabbering. (Can you imagine how alien most of the people around Steve must sound? That's got to take a while to get used to.) Natasha and Clint turn into this gorgeous duo, all honor codes and fights where you don't get to hit your opponent from a safe distance. You have to do it up close and personal.
Of course I mumbled under my breath about Coulson's death. The man knew what was going on to the point where he fridged himself. Aaaagh. Although I'm weirdly certain that he'll be back. I really, really hope he will be. REALLY REALLY.
Tony and Pepper, and remembering Jane (why no Darcy? There needs to be more Darcy), and Natasha getting to be a member of the team without turning her into the token hot chick. Thor trying to figure out his wayward brother.
The thing is, if you build up this kind of connective tissue, it makes all the big action setpieces resonate. It makes them live, it gets us invested. Otherwise they just turn into emptiness. There's probably nothing I like better than a really smart genre film, and this is a pretty good example of that. I ranted earlier in someone else's LJ about a condescending-as-fuck Slate reviewer talking about how clearly Joss Whedon's brand of humor had been brought to bear on this movie because it's the only way adults will excuse themselves for watching this sort of silly tripe meant for kiddies - if we couldn't say to ourselves, "But it's ironic!" than of course we'd stay away from the big pretty popcorn movie only meant for kids. Screw that. I've never been particularly attached to a nerd identity, but there's no better way to get me to fly into a pure, unholy nerd rage than people who think that if a story fits a "lesser" genre, the story automatically has no value.
