It’s been a tough summer for superheroes. Apart from causing comic book fatigue to a large percentage of worldwide audiences (the ones that don’t plan their annual calendars around Comic-Con), 2011 was the year in which every spandex-clad do-gooder that landed in our multiplexes seemed to come with a different set of problems. Thor’s Shakespearean pomp risked widespread derision, the X-Men propositioned yet another origin story and most viewers could not tell their Green Lantern from their Green Hornet.
Captain America: The First Avenger, the last in this summer’s line of superhero flicks, faces a different obstacle altogether: political controversy. Ostensibly a movie about an all-American war hero who likes to dress up in the US flag while dishing out justice, Joe Johnston’s film would have proved a tough sell had it been released at the height of George W. Bush’s war on terror or the occupation of Iraq. Even in the more eloquent Obama era, it seems unlikely that foreign viewers will take kindly to Steve Rogers like they did to Peter Parker.
The fact that Captain America never feels like an allegory for US propaganda comes as good news. Part of it may be down to the WWII setting (a time in which American intervention in the struggle against the Axis powers was highly praised), but mostly boils down to the characterization of the protagonist. In the film’s terrific first half Steve Rogers is introduced as a scrawny underdog with a heart of gold, who wishes to join the war not because he wants to kill nazis, but because he hates bullies, no matter where they are from. It’s these early scenes of unyielding determination which make his transformation into a physically enhanced, virtually flawless ubermensch worthwhile. It is thanks to Chris Evans’ tender portrayal that Cap never comes off as self-righteous; he is simply a very nice guy who has a knack for kicking ass.
It’s around the halfway mark that Joe Johnston drops the shield and doesn’t quite know what to do with his leading man, other than stick him in a flurry of bust-ups with some faceless goons headed by Hugo Weaving’s one-note psycho, the Red Skull. It is in these moments that Johnston’s shortcomings as a director become apparent. Lacking Jon Favreau’s affinity with dialogue and Kenneth Branagh’s ability to convey hefty themes, Johnston seems content to be merely a clever choreographer. Take for instance the action set-piece aboard a massive aircraft: visually impressive, but rushed into so abruptly, it actually takes a few minutes to realize it is the final showdown.
The film’s saving grace is a healthy dose of light-hearted humour, the kind which made the Indiana Jones films such a joy to watch. Steve may not be good at rapid fire wit like Tony Stark, but there’s fun to be had seeing him awkwardly prance around on stage in a gloriously cheesy USO musical number. Tommy Lee Jones’ innate talent for deadpan is also a very welcome plus.
The end result is little more than a solid comic book caper and a tantalising prelude to next year’s superhero epic The Avengers. However, with its growing reputation in the film industry, Marvel could have easily afforded an edgier, more leftfield choice for director. Like, say, Joe Wright. Remember the five-minute tracking shot of the Dunkirk evacuation in Atonement? Now imagine a scene like that in a Captain America movie…
3/5
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