"It's All About Bucks, Kid. The Rest is Conversation."
Another season, another entry into the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania is the thirty-first entry into the franchise and, like at least the last twelve before it, does nothing to renew or revitalize the cinematic behemoth's trite formula. Peyton Reed is back in the director's chair, enthusiastically kowtowing to the demands of producers and ensuring there is no detectable sense of style or personal touch.
Quantumania plays like a cross between tediously scripted Saturday morning cartoon and embarrassingly generic Star Wars rip-off, evoking no sense of fun or wonder despite creative makeup, costuming, and digital landscapes. It's utterly disposable and completely forgettable, but the theater was full at 3:00 pm on a Thursday, so silver lining, it will line some cultural overlords' pockets with cash.
The film follows Scott Lang and company as they're sucked into the quantum realm, a land of mind-bending vistas and infinite possibilities. As Lang discovers the secrets of the realm and tries to protect his daughter Cassie, a new threat rises. Kang the Conqueror, one of Marvel's most powerful villains, takes advantage of the newly available Pym Particles, enacting a savage plan to nebulously do something or another. The film also introduces M. O. D. O. K, immediately butchering his characterization and badassery.
The MCU runs the gamut from inspired to miserably inept. Quantumania proudly slots into the center of the spectrum, not nearly as imaginative or well-crafted as Iron Man or Infinity War, but not as boring or portentous as Thor: The Dark World or Eternals. It squeezes so snugly into its predestined mediocrity that it's difficult to scrape up thoughts which haven't been said of any other MCU film from the last two years.
The tone is still scatterbrained due to incessant quipping, the filmic craft is still laughably corporatized, the CGI is still creative and complex though horrendously fake-looking, the villain is still stripped of all complexity or intrigue, and the heroes are still indestructible paragons of status quo ubiquity.
Specifically, Quantumania's story unfolds sluggishly before kicking into hyper-speed. There's hardly time for character introductions, let alone character growth. A few minutes' stretch sets up a story of trust, subversion, and calculation, but is quickly bolled over for an overplayed, gratingly uninspired rebellion angle. By the time our characters are situated in this strange new world, the final act has started, and quickly becomes a typically rote slog.
None of the performances elevate the film, though Paul Rudd is eminently likeable and Michael Douglas plays up to the stupidity of the material, charismatically smartassing his way through the adventure. Kathryn Newton is charming enough, Michelle Pfeiffer lends legitimacy to the inanity, and Evangeline Lilly...doesn't really have much to do, honestly.
Jonathan Majors is the disappointment of the cast, always just teetering on the verge of sobbing no matter the scene or context. Kang is an all-powerful force of destruction, but Majors plays him like he never left the set for The Last Black Man in San Francisco. He's a great actor, but not an intimidator - he may have added thirty extra pounds of muscle to transform into a daunting presence in Creed III, but he didn't here; all he has here is a cool-looking cloak.
What else is there to extrapolate after thirty previous entries? For perspective, the Bond franchise has been running for sixty years and just recently celebrated the twenty-fifth entry into its franchise, and where Bond has reasonably shifted its values, identity, and presence throughout several decades, the MCU continuously doubles down on its commitment to assembly line productions.
The true shame is that, despite the staggering volume of the genre over the last twenty years, its context and potential for alteration (fundamental or superficial) has hardly been mined. Imagine a three-hour sweeping superhero epic, a dusty superhero western, or a psychological horror of superpowered insanity, all of varying budgets, tones, moods, styles, and complexity.
Take the thought further - hire legendary filmmakers like David Lynch, Paul Thomas Anderson, Darron Aronofsky, the Coen Brothers, David Fincher, or (your favorite filmmaker). Sure, not everyone would go for the idea, but those who do would surely produce something of staggering ingenuity and creativity; the inexhaustible subtext of a superpowered world could be explored for decades, and these production companies have limitless resources to explore it.
All a pipedream. Rather than force their audiences to grow up, Marvel and DC eagerly cater to their infantilized, developmentally arrested fanbases, slapping together content like Chinese day laborers, desperate to keep the dopamine perpetually dripping. Guardians of the Galaxy 3 will be here soon, The Marvels soon after that.
Writing this review was tedious enough; I cower to think of recording thoughts for MCU film number thirty-eight, number thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, onward and onward for eternity, until the Canadians invade, the dollar collapses, or The Living Tribunal is caught in a human trafficking scheme. Either way, blessed release.
Quantumania plays like a cross between tediously scripted Saturday morning cartoon and embarrassingly generic Star Wars rip-off, evoking no sense of fun or wonder despite creative makeup, costuming, and digital landscapes. It's utterly disposable and completely forgettable, but the theater was full at 3:00 pm on a Thursday, so silver lining, it will line some cultural overlords' pockets with cash.
The film follows Scott Lang and company as they're sucked into the quantum realm, a land of mind-bending vistas and infinite possibilities. As Lang discovers the secrets of the realm and tries to protect his daughter Cassie, a new threat rises. Kang the Conqueror, one of Marvel's most powerful villains, takes advantage of the newly available Pym Particles, enacting a savage plan to nebulously do something or another. The film also introduces M. O. D. O. K, immediately butchering his characterization and badassery.
The MCU runs the gamut from inspired to miserably inept. Quantumania proudly slots into the center of the spectrum, not nearly as imaginative or well-crafted as Iron Man or Infinity War, but not as boring or portentous as Thor: The Dark World or Eternals. It squeezes so snugly into its predestined mediocrity that it's difficult to scrape up thoughts which haven't been said of any other MCU film from the last two years.
The tone is still scatterbrained due to incessant quipping, the filmic craft is still laughably corporatized, the CGI is still creative and complex though horrendously fake-looking, the villain is still stripped of all complexity or intrigue, and the heroes are still indestructible paragons of status quo ubiquity.
Specifically, Quantumania's story unfolds sluggishly before kicking into hyper-speed. There's hardly time for character introductions, let alone character growth. A few minutes' stretch sets up a story of trust, subversion, and calculation, but is quickly bolled over for an overplayed, gratingly uninspired rebellion angle. By the time our characters are situated in this strange new world, the final act has started, and quickly becomes a typically rote slog.
None of the performances elevate the film, though Paul Rudd is eminently likeable and Michael Douglas plays up to the stupidity of the material, charismatically smartassing his way through the adventure. Kathryn Newton is charming enough, Michelle Pfeiffer lends legitimacy to the inanity, and Evangeline Lilly...doesn't really have much to do, honestly.
Jonathan Majors is the disappointment of the cast, always just teetering on the verge of sobbing no matter the scene or context. Kang is an all-powerful force of destruction, but Majors plays him like he never left the set for The Last Black Man in San Francisco. He's a great actor, but not an intimidator - he may have added thirty extra pounds of muscle to transform into a daunting presence in Creed III, but he didn't here; all he has here is a cool-looking cloak.
What else is there to extrapolate after thirty previous entries? For perspective, the Bond franchise has been running for sixty years and just recently celebrated the twenty-fifth entry into its franchise, and where Bond has reasonably shifted its values, identity, and presence throughout several decades, the MCU continuously doubles down on its commitment to assembly line productions.
The true shame is that, despite the staggering volume of the genre over the last twenty years, its context and potential for alteration (fundamental or superficial) has hardly been mined. Imagine a three-hour sweeping superhero epic, a dusty superhero western, or a psychological horror of superpowered insanity, all of varying budgets, tones, moods, styles, and complexity.
Take the thought further - hire legendary filmmakers like David Lynch, Paul Thomas Anderson, Darron Aronofsky, the Coen Brothers, David Fincher, or (your favorite filmmaker). Sure, not everyone would go for the idea, but those who do would surely produce something of staggering ingenuity and creativity; the inexhaustible subtext of a superpowered world could be explored for decades, and these production companies have limitless resources to explore it.
All a pipedream. Rather than force their audiences to grow up, Marvel and DC eagerly cater to their infantilized, developmentally arrested fanbases, slapping together content like Chinese day laborers, desperate to keep the dopamine perpetually dripping. Guardians of the Galaxy 3 will be here soon, The Marvels soon after that.
Writing this review was tedious enough; I cower to think of recording thoughts for MCU film number thirty-eight, number thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, onward and onward for eternity, until the Canadians invade, the dollar collapses, or The Living Tribunal is caught in a human trafficking scheme. Either way, blessed release.
- mattstone137
- Feb 16, 2023