Half an hour into Iron Man 2, I checked my cell phone clock, slouched in my seat, and leaned on the arm rest. Iron Man 2 blew into theaters last Friday, with the requisite mixed critical reaction and fanboy fervor, and it was easily the most tedious superhero flick I’ve seen in a while.
I’ll admit I never cared for Iron Man/Tony Stark and his “struggles” as the smartest, richest man in the Marvel-verse—in fact, I actively despised the clown after he inadvertently precipitated Captain America’s “death” —and cared little for the corporate intrigue of the first film. Yet, I enjoyed Robert Downey Jr.’s performance as Tony Stark, mostly because of the sheer force of his personality. Once I saw the commercials for the sequel, I expected more of the same: a great performance by Downey and a middling story of corporate espionage peppered with mecha battles. I was right. Iron Man 2 dropped below my expectations with pitiful pacing, dues ex machine plot and action figures for characters. Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Black Widow), Ivan Vanko (“Whiplash”) and Justin Hammer weren’t real characters; they were toys.
A week before Iron Man 2 was released, I had the pleasure of catching a film that actually treated comic book characters like human beings: Kick Ass. Kick Ass, distributed in comic form by Marvel’s creator-owned imprint, Icon, was a fun, memorable flick that put people before and “super” heroes. In Kick Ass, the story of normal people who pursue super heroics in the “real” world, each character had a life before heroism, or vigilantism as the case maybe. Whether it was Dave Liezewski’s (Kick Ass) mundane existence as a teenage nobody or Mindy McCready’s (Hit Girl) all-to-brief childhood, I believed these characters had a life—one I could relate to--beyond their absurd exploits. These characters also had clear goals. Big Daddy’s quest for revenge and Dave Liezewski’s grab at gallantry may be obsessive and misguided, but at least they were more realistic than Tony Stark being stingy with his super armor. Admittedly, both flicks strain plausibility, but the characters of Kick Ass ground the film in a semblance of reality that encourages the audience to care and cheer for the characters despite their suicidal stupidity. In Iron Man 2(IM2), the audience is told to love the super kewl characters because of their hipper-than-thou dialogue and feats of computer generated derring-do.
A comparison the of Kick Ass and IM2’s characters shows just how crucial grounded, relatable characters are to the effectiveness of films that demand suspension of disbelief. Kick Ass protagonist Dave Liezewski becomes "super" hero Kick Ass for reasons both selfish and altruistic. As much as Dave’s interest in being a superhero is bolstered by his desire for girls and popularity, he also genuinely wants to protect people, even at risk to his own safety. Tony Stark became an amplified version of this character type in the first Iron Man, as he gradually evolved form an arrogant hot shot to a hero who wanted to protect the world and erase his sins. But, in IM2, Stark regressed to the being a petulant prick due to an inability to cope with internal and external challenges. All of Stark’s character growth in IM1 is nullified by his actions in IM2. Stark is more interested in protecting his precious suit from antagonists that may never exist in the really real world than protecting the helpless from real-life terrorists. Conversely, by the end of Kick Ass, Dave Liezewski has moved from being teen with a power fantasy to honest-to-God hero when he helps Hit-Girl get her revenge on the D’Amico mob. Adding to Dave’s human-centered heroism is his resolve after being brutally injured. He doesn’t magically invent an element to save his life; he lies in the hospital, heals and returns to crime-fighting once he’s healthy. Kick Ass’ return to the streets may be based on delusional obsession, but positively rebounding from injury after a long recuperation is all-too-human.
Kick Ass’ humanity is echoed in the exploits of Big Daddy and Hit Girl. Big Daddy and Hit Girl are the opposite of IM2’s Ivan Vanko and Natasha Romanov. Big Daddy, like Vanko, is man trying violently and decisively avenge himself and his family. Both characters want to make powerful men suffer, but where their stories differ is the quality of the motivating offense and their physical response. Ivan Vanko builds a exoskeleton with electric whips to show the world “he can do what Stark can do better.” Big Daddy builds his body and gun collection while turning his daughter into a weapon in an effort to kill the man who sent him to prison and “killed” his wife. While both responses are ridiculously disproportionate, Big Daddy doesn’t care about embarrassing his opponent; he wants the guy dead. Vanko wants to shame Stark, with Stark’s death being a bonus. Both characters build “arsenals,” but Big Daddy treats himself and his daughter as the ultimate weapons as opposed to Vanko’s Gundams. Vanko balances equations and tinkers with toy robots before fighting Iron Man in a suit, that will surely protect him from nuclear attack. With little more than a bullet proof vest and some sturdy leather, Big Daddy and sidekick/daughter Hit Girl put their own bodies on the line to attack their enemies, a fact particularly evident in any scene featuring Hit Girl.
Compared to Natasha Romanov, her closest analogue in IM2, Hit Girl is a paragon of human heroism. Trained in the “art of death” by her father, Hit Girl is efficient and ruthless, yet charming and exuberant. She may move, bouncing around like a ninja slash the bad guys—in a far more effective and less-showy manner than the hipper-than-thou Romanov—but, on her off-hours, she’s a kid who loves her Dad and her toys. Hit Girl’s father may be certifiable and her toys—guns, knives and jetpacks—are surely dangerous, but its her genuine glee and warmth that reminds the audience—especially when she’s being beaten by a man three time her size—that this a “real” 11-year old child. Natasha Romanov, on the other hand, is a fembot. There’s no humanity behind her eyes, no life to her story. She’s a fully-poseable cheesecake maquette doing tricks that pale in comparison to Hit Girl’s more efficient, practical carnage. In IM2, Natasha is given one clumsy scene to demonstrate her “skill” and make the audience like her. In Kick Ass, the audience falls in love with Hit Girl because see her story and watch her drop every thug in a room more than once.
Rounding out the main characters of both films are antagonists that toe the line between friend and foe. Kick Ass’ Chris D’Amico (Red Mist) and IM2’s Justin Hammer both enter their respective films as ineffective jokes. Through betrayal and subterfuge, , they morph into dangerous villains as the films progress. The difference between these two villains is the nature of their threats, particularly in relation to the loss of human life. While Hammer is satisfied with stealing government contracts and Iron Man suit from stark, Chris takes part in a betrayal that truly threatens the lives of Kick Ass, Hit Girl and Big Daddy. By putting human life in the crossfire, rather than contracts and magic suits of armor, Kick Ass demonstrates that it deals in absolute, far from the vagaries of IM2. The villain’s response to the unveiling and, subsequent, foiling of their schemes highlights this principle. Chris is shocked, hurt and betrayed when his father threatens the heroes, and, later, is so angered by the death of his father that he sets forth on a path towards bloody vengeance. Justin Hammer, on the other hand smirks when he gets caught for allowing Vanko to turn his military robots into Iron Man-hunters. He even quietly went to jail rather than disappearing. Judging by the endings of both films, one could anticipate that in future sequels Justin hammer will return to take Tony Stark’s company while the Red Mist will return to take Kick Ass’ life. Those assumptions are indicative of the fundamental divergence between these two films: the weight of the human element.
The human element--prevalent in Kick Ass, yet lacking in IM2--grounds the fantastic in reasonable reality, encourages audience investment through character development and raises the stakes by putting lives, not companies or magic armor, in danger. The more attention a film pays to character the less likely it is to require contrived stakes. IM2 deals solely in contrived, inhuman stakes. None of the characters are ever in any real danger, so nothing matters, save plot progression. And, that’s what Marvel cares about: the mighty march to the Avengers epic. The characters in IM2 don’t serve an engaging story that delves into their core and examines the motivation and consequence of their actions; they serve a plot that teases the Avengers. Until Marvel executes its event film, and puts character first, creator-owned comic book movies will—much like their printed counterparts—capture audiences by telling stories about characters worth caring for.
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