Thoughts on Iron Man 2

Every now and then I’ll find myself watching a YouTube clip on applying make-up in preparation for my next big debutante ball. While engaging, to be sure, I sometimes grow lethargic and lose complete track of time. During these cathartic moments my body will begin to decompose due to lack of use and emits some sort of strange fungal ether which enters my brain and causes me to start hallucinating. In the hallucinations I am a board member at some haughty Hollywood film studio overseeing which movies should be given the green flag and released upon the unsuspecting masses to rob them of their dignity while we board members smoke cigars and sacrifice baby animals to our demonic corporate gods.

In one such illusion I found myself at a desk with a mound of comic books in front of me; my job was to select one for a movie deal. While there were a few obvious choices such as Spider-man, Batman, Superman, et cetera, there were others I might consider depending on which writer was being presented to me. For instance, the ghetto fabulous D-list super hero Iron Fist from the Marvel universe, whom enjoys wearing popped collar V neck 1960/70 era costumes no doubt made simply to capitalize on the success of bruce-sploitation, would seem like a terrible choice unless of course you were showing me the Brubaker run of the series in which case I dare say I would be as intrigued as a young school boy stumbling across Japanese Lovecraftian porn. You see writing is semi important, a talented writer can take the least interesting character and elevate him to superstar status; I say semi because other stories just skate by based on – err – to be honest I don’t know. Take Iron Man for instance. He’s never been a very interesting character despite being one of the three chief members of the Avengers team and this is to be expected when you come to the understanding that half of his stories are about a billionaire tycoon battling a stereotypical Chinese villain named the Mandarin who battles his science with magic. Please excuse me if my writing begins to suffer in the next few lines of text, as I’m in the process of trying to retrieve my eyes from the top of my head where they just rolled off to.

So back in 2008 when it was announced there was going to be an Iron Man movie I was not at all thrilled. Color me tickled prick, but I just didn’t see what was so great about Bruce Wayne with an alcohol problem, an expensive suit, and a penchant for seducing women rather than young men into his “Bat Cave” to train them in the art of grappling. Still, it was being directed by Jon Favreau, whom I liked, and had Robert Downey Jr. playing lead who I always thought was a spectacular actor who could really go places if he could just figure out the difference between cocaine and sweet and low.

The movie came out and I was flabbergasted. It was stupendous and ushered in an entire summer season of fun and thrilling superhero movies for the eager nerd republic of America to shell out their hard earned taco bell money towards. The movie was so successful that a sequel was announced within days. Now I’ve been around this block for a while and know all the prostitutes on a first name basis, but any thought of a sequel immediately has me reaching for my security blanket and a poo flinging defense monkey. Sequels by their nature lack the creative spark often times needed to create a movie and are nothing more than a desperate cash grab jury-rigged at the last second by the studio in order to pay off the money they spent on that orbital laser designed to carve their names into the earth’s surface. So in case you currently have a an infestation of carnivorous worms in your brain and are unable to make out what I am getting at here, let me spell it out for you. I went into this movie very cautiously.

The movie begins like this. An evil Russian hipster, who clearly enjoys his dessert a little too much and sees dentist drills as a sort of cyanide, has just arrived home after Seattle’s hemp-fest to discover his father is dying and that Tony Stark is a prick, thus setting the stage for a revenge plot. Rar! Said Russian pretty boy, named Ivan, is being played by Mickey Rourke, a man so hardcore that he is willing to disfigure himself in an attempt to improve his demeanor. Hey Rourke, just buy a necklace that gives you a +6 enhancement bonus to charisma. Hmm, he must be playing in 4th edition rules.

Cut to America and we see that Mr. Stark is walking on water and curing the sick with his awesome Expos which come equipped with big booty bitches in Iron Man costumes and enough eager fans present to start a hurricane if they begin to oscillate in unison. So right off the bat it appears that the yearly expo for Stark enterprises is some sort of amalgam of E3 and a military defense summit that is open to the public where the people hang on to Tony Stark’s words in the same level of awe and excitement as the day when Steve jobs reveals the new iwank telephone that drains the venom from your pocket python every time you make a call. The audience gets to play the role of the slightly ugly groupie who follows Stark around but never gets to polish his marbles. This isn’t so bad though, because while the plot is stammering along at the pace of a gimp carrying a cripple across a valley of broken glass, there is a lot of fun to be had without getting any salty taste in your mouth.

Holding the audience by the hand and Tony Stark by the cock is Jon Favreau the director, shoe horning himself in as Happy Hogan (god bless you comic book name alliteration) for a good bit of comic relief and fulfilling the duty of the no nonsense “everyman”. To be honest I’ve never understood the need for some directors to cast themselves in their own movies. This sort of thing doesn’t really bother me unless you are M. Night Shamalan and the movie in question is Lady in the Water. However, I have to make an exception with Mr. Favreau. If I’m not mistaken, Favreau began as a comedic actor and so he is actually a welcome member to the cast. Strange, I never thought I would see eye to eye with a director on this matter; now if you’ll excuse me my brain has leapt out from my ear. Let me go retrieve it and I’ll try to continue this review.

Before I go any further with this critique I would like to briefly analyze the first Iron Man film. The biggest strength of the first Iron Man movie was getting to see Robert Downey Jr. play Tony Stark; in fact the scenes involving Stark were vastly more interesting than any of the sequences with him in the Iron Man suit. Even towards the end of the film when Jeffrey Lebowski finally suits up and plays a rousing game of hacky sack with our titular hero, I couldn’t help but feel uninterested. I wanted to return to the fun characterizations and witty dialogue. If you are going to have a climactic battle sequence, then give me more spectacles and less of a girly slap fight where the two adversaries spend half the time sticking tea cozies up their asses. All I’m saying is that if you are going to have a fight scene make sure it’s at least half interesting. Ah ha! Found you brain. Now that everything is back to working order, let’s pick up this review where I last left off.

The US government in this story is completely mischaracterized as this ominous, completely disconnected entity which fears not having any form of control over its citizens and is absolutely outraged that a man’s private property cannot be seized by them as they deem it “unsafe”. How absurd. Everyone knows that – ah fuck it, this joke is going nowhere.

During the meeting with the big bad government that you’ve all heard about on the TVs and internets, we are introduced to a Muppet playing the role of Garry Shandling, and doing a mighty fine job too I might add. Alongside Shandling is Justin Hammer, a weapons defense contractor or something played by Sam Rockwell. At this point in the review I would like to take the time to stop and comment on the awesomeness that is pouring out of each orifice on Sam Rockwell, and yes, I checked them all. His performance is so over the top that he might as well have stolen Mickey Rourke’s metal teeth and used them to start chewing through the scenery. His ass-hole demeanor is the perfect counter point for Mr. Downey’s arrogance and completely runs away with the show leaving behind a trail of bloodied gaffers with teeth marks in their throats.

As the intensity of the scene reaches a rolling boil, James Rhodes walks in to add the spaghetti noodles to the pot and slowly stir. Remember Rhodey, 6-8 minutes for that al dente taste. Here’s where the movie gets a bit strange though because it seems as though there is a missing scene which will no doubt make an appearance on the DVD. When Terrence Howard walks in its immediately noticeable that he was involved in some sort of fire since we last saw him. His skin is darker and all his hair is missing. Our thoughts and prayers go with you Mr. Howard – oh wait. Apparently I am mistaken and Rhodes will now be played by Don Cheadle. Trying to pull a fast one on me, eh Mr. Favreau? Well let me just say that – oh, well that was actually rather clever. I tip my hat to you good sir (inside joke for those who have seen the movie and are not empty headed twats)!

After all the introductions are complete, the government wants Tony to relinquish the Iron Man suit to which he replies with a figurative middle-finger. Hurray Iron Man! Jingoism is for teat sucking fascists anyway. At this point the movie becomes one big after party of fun. We get a lot of jokes, a lot of fun, and hey, Scarlett Johansson even showed up with some rave sticks for everyone to play around with, although it seems like the swelling from those bee stings to her lips and butt still hasn’t gone away. Our thoughts and prayers go with your Ms. Johansson.

So where was I? I keep getting distracted by all these pretty colors, it seems Tony Stark has returned to his old ways and is molesting his holographic computer projections again. Oh yeah, that’s right the big party. Without giving away too much of the story it seems as though Stark is leading a devil may care lifestyle due to some sort of ambiguous time restriction placed on his life thanks to the radioactive toxins and isotopes coursing throughout his body caused by that weird Tron disc lodged in his chest; Screen Writing 101 is in the English department just past the drinking fountain near the entrance. But who cares! Life is sweet, and with the help of a little plot convenience or contrivance, Tony decides to pilot a race car in France where he is nearly killed by that Mickey Rourke guy. Remember him? From the beginning? Look I know you are trying to have fun, but this is a movie and we have shit to do. They mean business here and if the plot doesn’t show up by now who knows what will happen?

Suspecting at this point that he might be roped into a soulless sequel shat out of the asshole of the malaria test sloth of Hollywood, Jon Favreau as the character Happy decides to dispose of metaphors and quite literally save Iron Man from being killed. Afterwards we have an awesome fight sequence that lasts all of 30 seconds where the fully armored Stark defeats a half naked man with whips. I knew I should have never bet against those kinds of odds.

So Rourke is carried away and the movie is just beginning so clearly there has to be more to this plot correct? “Why yes!” Cactus ejaculated with much glee and delight. Shortly after Rourke (I suppose I should start referring to him by his character’s name by now) IVAN, is incarcerated by French officials and the movie decides to delicately shove a croissant up the ass of each French person in existence by demonstrating how inept and ineffective they are at keeping one man in jail. Ivan now free thanks to the assistance of Justin Hammer is contractually obligated to do a Marvel team up with the weapon man and produce a series of robots that will put the Iron Man suit to shame.

53% blood toxicity later and the true boo-ger man that haunts Tony Starks nightmares rears its liquidy head within frame; alcoholism. Caught in the downward coriolis toilet spiral of doom it seems like there is no one left to save Iron Man. Luckily for the American people we have James Rhodes to save the day whom promptly beats the shit out of his inebriated friend and then jacks one of his suits and delivers it to the American Air force. That’s true love right there.

Now if you’re like me then by this point you are starting to notice something a little queer. The movie is slowly but surely changing direction and pace. No longer are you in the topsy-turvy fun ride that was Iron Man 2 the Experience – coming soon to Six Flags Adventures. Instead you find yourself in some sort of PSA. You claw at the walls and try to negotiate with those who have you captured, but there is no escape. You are about to be hit with exposition!

The following day we are “blessed” - and no those quotes are not just for decoration - with the presence of Samuel L. Jackson as nick Fury, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Now before you start arming yourselves with pencils to jam into your brains, I want to stop you for a second and remind you that using a hot drill might be quicker and less painful.

Now I can’t be sure if anyone else in the theatre noticed this, but when Nick Fury came on screen (ha, perverted joke there) a nebulous singularity began forming over the screen which sucked all the life and energy from the film. But why? What is it about this character that could be causing this effect? Well I sat down with some Brazilian models in lab coats and came to the conclusion that even with money women still won’t remain in the same room with me for more than 30 minute intervals.

Nick Fury’s part in this grand opera is to sit you down and start telling you what this story is about. Yes, Sam Jackson is essentially the narrator of this movie. Now I don’t mind Sam Jackson, he’s a good actor when you give him a role that suits his natural charisma. Mr. Jackson has an intensity to him that is rivaled by very few and he does well when you drop him into a persona that demands this kind of thing. However, just because the character in question is a man wearing an eye patch with a black leather coat, does not make him Jules Winnfield. Nick Fury is a calm level headed individual, and while I know why they used Jackson for this character (*see The Ultimates), when you have the character spouting out exposition you really need someone with a smooth voice that can carry this as gracefully as a canoe in a calm morning lake; Jackson has about the same level of flow as a menstruating polar bear on a unicycle rocket. But as bad as this segment of the film is, the one ray of sunshine is that you get to see Ms. Johansson in skin tight bondage leather, a fact picked up by the cameraman when you notice all the shots of her revolved around her ass, as if the camera crew is trying to locate the exact location of the bee sting wound and apply ointment.

Ok, so maybe I’m being too hard on Jackson, maybe there is something of substance here that I can sink my sweet tooth into. Where is Rockwell? I need to see if he’s still borrowing Rourke’s teeth. But alas, I am wrong, for I have every reason to hate this portion of the movie. Why you may ask in an innocent voice? Because the whole rationale of this middle segment is to uncomfortably shove an Avengers plot into the same slutty corset that Iron Man is wearing leaving the nasty muffin top love handles and patchy Avengers breasts bulging out around the edges. I can already hear the geekgasms now, but before you go soiling your dainty panties I want to carefully explain to you how stupid this is. This is an Iron Man movie, not an Avengers movie, and while Marvel is diligently working its damndest to bring us that Avengers movie, it doesn’t have to try to fill tidbits of it into other movies. At the conclusion to both Iron Man and the new Hulk film we had a sprinkling of Avengers conservatively applied to our ice cream sundae; that’s fine by me but now the Avengers stuff is dissecting a portion of another movie and performing some sort of in vitro fertilization. That’s rape in my book!

After shuffling around kicking cans and weeds for 30 minutes the film finally gets back on course and decides to start wrapping things up. Thankfully this is where it gets good. Probably after hearing all the complaints about the climax of the first film, Favreau decides to have a big howdy do with the effects department and gives Iron Man a proper ending with a fight sequence that goes on for just the appropriate length. I would go in to more depth about this, but I feel like I’ve spoiled enough of this movie as it is. Feel free to cut off the rotten parts with green mold and digest the rest at your own risk.

All in all Iron Man 2 was an excellent film. Although I really do have to stress the importance of how nut twistingly awful that middle segment is, the rest of the movie is pretty good, if not better than the original. All the things I liked about the original: characters, dialogue, the fun and thrill of experiencing the life of Tony Stark, Jon Favreau’s man package, are all done better in the sequel. Also, the only thing I hated about the first film, which was the climax, was also greatly improved upon. In many ways this is a film that surpasses the original in almost every conceivable way until you get to the actual nuisance of that whole story telling business. If the screen writers had simply found a way to better explain things rather than stitching the exposition into the narrative and Frankensteining the whole thing at the last minute and maybe surgically removing all the SHIELD/Avengers nonsense, this would enter the rare hall of fame for “Movie sequels better than the original”. Oh well, that’s all I really have to say. Now if you’ll excuse me I have some bees that need training. Also, I have a sudden craving for Dr. Pepper. Weird.