As much as
my growing disappointment with quite a few films that 2022 has had to offer may
argue against this, I like to think of myself as the ‘last line of defence’ of
film critics. Over the past eight years of writing on this blog, as well as my
commissions for FilmInk, I have always tried to find the positives in whatever
film I watch. It doesn’t always work out that way, but I genuinely think that I
have yet to watch a film that has literally zero merit to it. If a new
film has come out, and it has been either disregarded or just lambasted by
other critics, chances are good that I have at least one good thing to say
about it, if not several.
That goes
double for superhero films. While I get the inherent problems with how much of
a stranglehold the genre has on the industry nowadays, I personally can’t find
it in myself to lambast the art as a result of that. I love superhero stories.
When they’re done well, they can make for just the right kind of storytelling
that tap into that part of me that holds onto the ideals of goodness within
humanity like a life preserver. I may not want every film to be like
that, and indeed not every film should, but I usually have a lot of nice words
for the ones I come across.
To put it
simply, in order for a superhero film to get on my bad side, it has to be a
particularly crap example of the genre. I mean, I was able to unironically vibe
with parts of Morbius, just to show how lenient I can be with this kind of fare.
But then I come across stuff like this, which feel like they exist solely to
validate every single criticism that has been levelled at the genre and its
effect on the industry over the past decade and a half.