Fantastic Four (2015)

With its over-long look inside 5^th grade life to the tacked-on CGI-heavy finale, the latest big-screen version of Marvel stalwart “Fantastic Four” is a joyless, suspense-free dud from frame one. Oh, there have been worse superhero film appearances on the big screen.

But never one so lazy. Never one so dedicated to being mediocre. This is a superhero film with exactly one action scene. A crammed, confusing limp punch that fails to ignite the pure joy of cracking open a comic book spine and digging those panel jumps.

Not a single vibe of geekery hit my veins. 

Nothing hit me. Except fatigue of superheroes on film and battles to save Earth and huge craters, and I say that as a massive comic book nerd of old. Indifference is the word. 

I pitied the actors. I pitied the production crew who must have busted ass, to no avail. I didn’t pity director Josh Trank, who publicly disowned the film opening night. The faults start quick, not at the end where he says the film went all wrong, out of his hands. 

Plot: Our four heroes -– high school students, in a change up from the original comic -- gain incredible powers when a scientific experiment involving inter-dimensional travel goes wrong. Miles Teller’s Reed Richard stretches, Kate Mara’s Sue Storm turns invisible, Michael B. Jordan’s Johnny Storm bursts into flame, and Jamie Bell’s Ben Grimm turns into a rock monster. Each power seems tied to personality trait. Reed’s smarter-than-everyone else nerd is stretched, see? Ben is a tough guy, all rock and closed off feeling. Johnny is a hot head. Traits. These aren’t fleshed-out characters. 

Only vague ideas.

I collected the book for a while and loved it. This reboot, following two other attempts within the past 10 years, reminded me why some printed material cannot go to the live screen. Here, Reed is a boring smug character. Sue? Boring. And not just here, but in the earlier films as well. Boring. (Storm as Human Torch and Grimm as The Thing do hold some interest. But they get short-shifted on screen. To the point of awkward hilarity.)

The whole smart outsider thing is too cliché now to even make a dent. Not when nerds can push a film toward $1 billion, hello “Avengers,” or stay home and kill a studio’s entire fiscal year, oh, hey, this movie. The “Avengers” movies saddle its heroes with woes, their heroic acts landed. This lot sulks by. Or maybe the books would read dull to me now.

The actors can’t fill the void. Not the paper-thin parts, the dull action, nor the forced relationships. Sue and Johnny are adopted brother and sister, Reed and Ben are best pals since childhood; they all whiff of people who don’t even keep in touch on Facebook. 

(Sue isn’t even allowed to make the big leap to that extra-dimensional Earth. It’s a boy’s only party. That’s less progressive than even 1961, when the comic book started. Think about that. She gets her powers when the guys return and ... how the hell?!?!?!) 

The setting is too constrained. In the books, New York City was the heroes’ playground. I loved that, being a city kid. Near every moment here takes pace in an underground bunker that makes Sam’s Club seem like heaven; or an alternate, unformed Earth –- green screen set -– that I can find on any low-ball episode of “Doctor Who.” Trank strangles his characters in every scene with shit lighting and low ceilings, and all CGI everything else. 

Post powers, half the film focuses on a Big Brother O'Brien U.S. military type (Tim Blake Nelson) sending Thing -- that's Ben -- out to attack enemies. We see on monitors this Hulk-like beast of rocks tearing tanks apart and throwing enemy combatants around, who are they? Does Ben get a thrill from this action? Does he hate it? No idea. We never get a close up. This is the product of studio managers who gave up on the film midway through.

Woe Toby Kebbell -– dig him in last year’s “Apes” movie, he is excellent -- as Victor Von Doom, one of Marvel’s best villains, reduced here to an angry geek who’s just discovered Rage Against the Machine lyrics. And maybe retweets Anonymous. On a bad day. 

Lost on that first inter-dimensional trip and thought dead, his absence from the screen is so I stopped caring. When he *finally* appears as a metalized maniac with every power Trank and his writers can throw on screen, screw continuity, Doom has nothing to offer. His look is ridiculous, a rigid metal/plastic face with bulging blank eyes, his voice dubbed in, all ringing a bad 80s film, maybe “Superman III.” That lady robot at the end? Crap.

Add in glaringly bad editing and on-screen errors (blonde wigs!) and this is a doomed film on every level, and no amount of studio/actor spin can save it. It is a dud. Watch that finale, listen to Teller's voice, struggling to sell lines such as “We have to stop him!”  and babble on about “we are stronger together.” He cannot sell it. Look at that panic. 

Several years back, Trank made the rousing low-budget “FF”-inspired “Chronicle.” It followed four different, desperate high school boys with new-found super powers. Not a best-of moment here equals any of that film’s worst-of moments. Is he a one shot wonder, did the studio kill him, or is the material just not workable in 2015? I have no idea. There is zero vision or voice or even clarity here, and that has to fall on his head.

Can we guess how soon the next reboot “FF” is coming?  D

Batman (1989)

I saw Tim Burton’s highly anticipated “Batman” on opening night, in Philadelphia. I loved it, despite the early warning of Michael Keaton as Bruce Wayne/Batman. Damn it, Jack Nicholson was in it and I had discovered Jack in “Shining” and “Chinatown,” far too young. The movie is dark, violent, and -– after recently watching a series of 1940s “Batman” serials on TCM that blazed dark -– I have rediscovered, it’s fuckin’ crazy inspiring. Groundbreaking. A mash-up of 80s action and 50s film noir, shot with grunge. Yeah, Batman has been Rambo’d up, and Joker’s all mafia, but its daring original entertainment, Burton at near career high. Anton Furst’s Gotham City –- built at Pinewood -– is among the greatest film sets ever. It astounds. B+

Ant-Man (2015)

Marvel’s other big 15 summer flick “The Avengers: Age of Ultron” was so dense with heroes and villains, watching it near required a flow chart even for a die-hard geek such as myself. So Marvel goes literally small with “Ant-Man,” the latest hero to hit the screen. 

Paul Rudd is Scott Lang, a Robin Hood ex-con recruited to take on the heroic identity of Ant-Man –- a hero who can shrink to the size of an ant, retain incredible strength, and control insects –- by a genius inventor/scientist (Michael Douglas) who once wore the suit. 

Aged out, Douglas’ Hank Pym (the same character also is The Beast in the X-Men films) needs Rudd’s Lang to steal vital tech from a greedy CEO (Corey Stoll) up to no good. That’s it. Not a city is destroyed. Just a building. And a house. 

And I’m thankful for that. The epic destruction climaxes can get tiring. And, thankfully, tongues are in cheek for much of the running time.A climatic fight involves a Thomas the Tank Engine being thrown about. From the eyes of a child, it’s a tiny toy falling off a track. To our hero, it’s a devastating near-death encounter. That scene kicks. 

Now the magnifying glass. Director Peyton Red infamously picked up the lead reins from geek-favorite Edgar Wright (“Shaun of the Dead”) after the latter quit, squashed by Marvel Corp. meddling. 

The cracks show. That Thomas daft bit is pure Wright. But when the main story stops hard to intro an Avengers sidebar, the movie flops. Anthony Mackie’s Falcon appears, Chris Evans’ Captain America gets name dropped. The whole plot of “Avengers 2” is discussed in a conversation so awkward Douglas squirms. He has no idea what he is mouthing off. 

Look, I dig Marvel, I love Marvel, and it wants a tie-in universe seamless and pure, and I want what Marvel wants. Just like the comic books where stories such as “Secret Wars” crossed a dozen or so titles. I get it. 

But, left alone and given free will, Wright’s movie may have been the biggest blast of Marvel fresh air since “Guardians of the Galaxy.” Wild daft fun; us not knowing what the hell might happen, or who might say what. That movie felt like a daring gamble.

This is flat boring, not a bet. Not a single surprise moment, Thomas engine aside. When hero Ant-Man can’t stop talking about how much he loves his little princess girl, who the hell is the bad guy going to go after? This is a screenplay beaten into submission. By committee. 

It doesn’t help that Stoll’s villain, who becomes the menacing Yellow Jacket, with the similar powers to Ant-Man, never once registers. He’s psycho from minute one, a barking madman who hardly seems capable of running a treadmill, much less a massive company. And how ever did he become a super villain? Where did he train? How? 

Enough bitching, what does work here is Rudd’s solid performance. He’s likable. He’s funny. But he looks like he can handle himself in a fight. Douglas is spry as well. He throws a punch. It looks good. 

Also –- and I hate to go happy on special effects when story suffers so -- but the shots of Ant-Man tiny against backgrounds that are macrophotography blown out is crazy fun. That Thomas train, or Ant-Man using a Lifesaver to save his life. (And young Michael Douglas is epic!) Reed and his VFX team knock it out of the ballpark. 

Kudos to the computer geeks and camera crews. But no matter how good the art was in the thousands of comic books I collected and read, the stories kept bringing back. And this story has nothing to sell. B-

Birdman (2014)

When we first see Michael Keaton as a has-been Hollywood actor at the opening of tar-black fable “Birdman,” he is floating in midair as the intimidating voice of his once big-screen superhero alter ego -– see the title -– talks aloud inside his own head. That’s the start of this wondrously warped story. Yes, Keaton, who played comic book hero Batman, plays an actor who played comic book hero Birdman. Meta comedy is promised and delivered. Plot: Keaton’s Riggan Thomas is determined to reset his relevance by staging a Broadway play. The impossible task consumes Riggan: His lead actor is a prickish actor played by infamously prickish actor Edward Norton, and Riggan’s daughter (Emma Stone) teeters on drug relapse. Stone, of course, plays Spider-Man’s girlfriend. Spider-Man appears as a mocking taunt. Brilliant. Questions pop: Mainly, Will Riggan escape Birdman? Director Alejandro G. Inarritu serves a must-rewatch film about a man more scared of obscurity than death and a damning of the Marvel Movie Universe ruling cinemas and then flames his own film as Marvel-like action plays out. More than the art-house deep-thoughts comedy, this strange film is pure wicked fun to watch unspool. A

RIPD (2013)

What’s a studio to do when a major franchise such as “Men in Black” dries up over tired scripts and fuck-off-looking tired actors (bye, Tommy Lee Jones)? It finds a place holder. A substitute teacher to keep the kids happy. “RIPD” fits the task. Ryan Reynolds plays a smart-aleck city cop swept up in a secret worldwide police force that pops supernatural criminals on sight, guns blazing, and his new partner is a crusty geezer with a piss attitude. Whoa, man. We’re not talking aliens, though. No, sir. That would copying. Here’s it’s the undead, ghosts. Not aliens. That would be copying. And, yes, there’s a big-city battle that means the end of the world. God help me. “RIPD” means Rest in Peace Department. Get it? Reynolds smirks at action and lays on puppy dog eyes at drama, just as he did in “Green Lantern.” He is endlessly fucking boring. As the cranky partner, Jeff Bridges -– great actor -- replays his role from “True Grit,” thinking paycheck. “Men in Black” had crazy wit and an ending that had me gasping with laughter. “RIPD”? I was looking at the clock. And the damn thing was as DOA as this grinding imposter. D+

The Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)

“What are you … doing?” That’s what evil alien Ronan (Lee Pace) asks of Han Solo-type hero Peter Quill (Chris Pratt) toward the end of “Guardians of the Galaxy,” a funny, thrilling action film from Marvel Studios that is self-aware and comes packed with the kind of rock-heavy soundtrack not heard since 1980s heydays. “Footloose” is named-checked. “Cherry Bomb” is played. This is as fuck-it gonzo flippant as Marvel’s “Captain America 2” was dead serious against Bush/Obama NSA insanity. Earth-born Quill goes by Star-Lord, a thief who gets mixed up in a universe-stretching battle Skywalker-style after he nabs a device that looks like a baseball, joining other thieves and fighters –- including a walking tree (Vin Diesel) and his raccoon pal (Bradley Cooper) –- along the way. Director/writer James Gunn serves epic gut-busting comedy first, superhero tales second. “Why would you to save the galaxy?,” asks Rocket the Raccoon. “Because I live in the galaxy!,” is the genius reply. Everything about “Guardians” is perfect, right up to the credits stinger that winks at Marvel’s once abysmal track record of movie making. Pratt is fast becoming a major film star, having played lead voice in another 2014 favorite, “The Lego Movie.” A

Divergent (2014)

Dystopian future youth dramas are getting as much cinema attention as comic book movies, so watching “Divergent” will give you nothing no one has not seen in “Hunger Games” -– good films -– and “Host” –- terrible, awful flick. “Divergent” takes place in a post-war Chicago where humanity has been divided up into factions according to dominant virtue -– smart, giving, war-like, servant, you get the idea. To have multiple virtues, being divergent, is a mark of death under the city’s queen bee (Kate Winslet, all cold). Our heroine is Beatrice (Shailene Woodley, star of near every movie this year), who is from a servant family, but cops multiple traits, mostly warrior. This makes her No. 1 target, assuming she can survive the hand-to-hand and gun/knife combat training of her new war tribe. Does she? Of course, she does. This is film 1 in a series. Woodley is great in the role, going from young and unsure to a survivor of tragedy, so she more than makes up for the ehh side-characters and an odd lack of true horror. I might be playing unfair as no one here carries the menace of Donald Sutherland leering at Jennifer Lawrence. B

X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014)

Bryan Signer’s “X-Men: Days of Future Past” –- his first return to the Marvel Mutant franchise in 11 years -– has one of those plots that would jump several Marvel titles and have me buying and reading lest I miss a twist. “Future Past” is literal as we focus on clawed-hero Wolverine (Hugh Jackman, Marvel’s hardest working man) leaping from 2023 to 1973 to stop an Orwellian existence started by a mad scientist (Peter Dinklage) bent on domination. Indeed we get the heroes and villains of the two “X-Men” time-line franchises, with seniors Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellan and sophomores James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender respectively playing hero Professor X and (non)villain Magneto, all for one admission. Singer serves the giddiest fun scene of the entire “X” films -- a punk speed demon (Evan Peters) breaks Magneto out of a Pentagon cell -– but, damn it, all the time leaping and plot erasing reminds me of the futility of so many comic books. No one dies. Watch a well-known character perish? No worries, wait three minutes, it won’t matter. Emotional investment? Suspense? Wet fireworks. Pay up for the next chapter, please. In three-color print, it worked. On screen? It rings empty. B-

The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (2014)

Everything wrong that Sony is doing with Spider-Man screams loud in the end credits of “The Amazing Spider-Man 2” with the now-standard stinger tease all of us have become accustomed to in superhero flicks. This is different. We get not a peek at a new or undead villain, but (sigh) a long, random, unexplained “X-Men: Days of Future Past” clip. 

The scene hits the viewer, hit this viewer, like an error by the projectionist. A blip from the movie playing down the hall. 

There’s no connection to Spider-Man. It’s an ad. Chicken feed to answer a studio contract. A disconnected film. Money.

And, that, folks is what this whole sequel smells of, contract obligations and a studio desperate to launch sequels, spin-offs, toys, and soda pop tie-ins at Subway. 

This fast-tracked sequel to an unneeded 2012 remake of the 2002 “origin” film shows not story-telling prowess or a love of the Marvel comics stories that thrilled my childhood, but movies as sausage. Ground, not links.

Director Mark Webb and his writers give us the great Paul Giamatti as a rampaging psycho thief during an opening truck/car chase through Manhattan then drops the actor until a third-wheel finale with a tacky CGI head of the man in a robotic version of the well-known comic book character Rhino, one that oddly hints of a lost Transformer. 

What studio makes those films? Why the Rhino here and now? Action figures at Target? 

In between it all, Giamatti’s two scenes, we do get Andrew Garfield as Spider-Man, battling both Electro (Jamie Foxx, doing a loser nerd bit until he goes all angry nerd as a guy with electric-controlling powers) and a new Green Goblin in the form of Peter Parker childhood pal Harry Osbourne (Dane DeHaan, stealing the film with intensity that unsettles). Don’t forget hints of other comic book staples Black Cat, Doctor Octopus, and the Vulture. Oh, Venom, too, I think. Blink, miss, you get the idea. Keep a chart.

Even for a comic book geek and likely target of all this name dropping and play, the film lurches and crawls, stuffed with excess, and I have not even yet mentioned all the back story hoopla of Peter’s sad dead parents … which, in the sloppy end, does not mean much. 

(If you're not a comic book geek and lost in this review, sorry, I can't explain a Green Goblin to the unknown.)

I deeply enjoy the main cast here –- Garfield is fantastic, and Emma Stone as girlfriend Gwen Stacy plays smart before sexy –- far better than the first trilogy of Spider-Man films, but Giamatti is sadly wasted. Foxx works hard to make a character bite that has no teeth, or form. Chris Cooper has two scenes as Norman Osbourne –- father of Harry, and a Green Goblin in the books -– but they also smack of a wasted talent, a headline-grabbing name grabbed and tossed in. Why him in that part? 

Plot? Peter has graduated high school and over a long summer finds himself mixed up again in Oscorp, the evil corporation that figured in film one, and once employed his dead father. He’s also fumbling at a relationship with Stacy, whose cop pop previously made Peter (as Spider-Man) promise to keep away from, before succumbing to fatal injuries. Pete cannot keep that promise, though. He loves Gwen too much, and she him. 

Comic book fans know what happens as closely as Christians know how it turned out for Jesus. But when the moment comes, it’s a mixture of awe –- that’s happening in a big summer film, gutsy –- and exhaustion as we have seen two super villains crash in, and there’s that third and fourth and who knows else coming down. Mourn? Sorry. No time.

I will give Webb and company credit for the changes they made to Electro: The comic book outfit of the yellow face mask would never work on screen. So, they retooled the character from scratch. Nice move. Even if Electro is one of the shrug characters in the books. Where art thou, Kraven? OK, thank the gods they did not actually toss in Kraven. 

Less can be more, films can breathe. This “Spider-Man” ends gasping for air, and with a headache. Is it the disaster of “Spider-Man 3” (2007)? No. But only by a web’s width. 

Garfield is by far miles better than Toby Maguire, who hit a weepy whiny ditch and never got his ass out. He deserves a better movie to play in. I hope he gets it, soon. C+

Thor: The Dark World (2013)

Marvel superhero flick “Thor: The Dark World” picks up where 2012’s “Avengers” left off: New York in ruin and villain/god/jealous brother Loki (Tom Hiddleston) facing prison, with hero/god/older brother/ GQ heartthrob Thor (Chris Hensworth) brooding like never before. And of all his powers, Thor broods best. But brooding does not a comic book yarn make, and so arrive the Dark Elves, alien villains set on snuffing the light on all life. Back on Earth, Thor gal pal/scientist Jane (Natalie Portman) finds some red E.T.-floating goo that the Dark Elves need to do their Rule the Universe thing. She gets infected. Of course. The Dark Elves want her ass. Thor gets angry. Set action and play. Cue post-credits hint to next Marvel film. Nothing is wrong with “Dark World.” Yet nothing hits. The Dark Elves are murky dull. It’s all clockwork down to the “shock” ender that means “Thor 3.” Wait. Can I have “Loki: Ruler of All” instead? Hiddleston’s twisted sicko is infinitely more fascinating than Hemsworth as Thor. No offense to Mr. Hemsworth, so good in “Rush.” But Marvel would do well to tip the truth: Loki is the best thing going in its massive franchise. Put him center, please. B-

Kick Ass 2 (2013)

“Kick Ass 2” is a shit sequel to a razor sharp comic book movie that fingered the caped avenger genre and reveled in and questioned its own grisly violence. Love it, hate it, “Kick Ass” did just that. No shock: It was directed by Matthew Vaughn of “Layer Cake” fame. This downer has some guy named Jeff Wadlow at the helm. Plot: Vigilante/hero-complex teens Kick Ass (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and Hit Girl (Chloë Grace Moretz) do battle with the -– wait for it -- Mother Fucker, the now super villain son (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) of the NYC mob boss (Mark Strong) killed in film one. MF dons his mom’s S&M gear and dishes out murder and rape. Too much. In one scene, policemen are chomped to death by a lawn mower. Rape gets a joke. Vaughn skated the line of taste, turning hero fantasy into grim shocker. Wadlow’s delivery is a tired echo and oddly boring with action scenes so haphazardly shot as to bring on indifference. The sick thrills thus become merely sick. Jim Carrey’s role as a psycho-for-Jesus G.I. Joe is over before it finds air, and Mintz-Plasse’s trip in a “Mean Girls” spin relies on diarrhea gags. Dumb ass. D+

Man of Steel (2013) and Superman: The Movie (1978)

A trippy back-to-back movie marathon for a long-time superhero geek: The new, troubled, cold dark blue “Man of Steel,” followed by the pop-art all-is-good bright “Superman: The Movie” from 1978. (The latter the first film I ever saw in a theater.) 

These films seen together should make some pop culture thesis about how far down the path of darkness America has gone, or realized it traveled long ago but could never quite admit. After all, damn it, Superman is America. (If you need back story, you are lost.)

Both films are origin stories of Superman, the only hero whose true identity is his super hero self, and his alter ego costume the normal guy next door, Clark Kent. He always is Superman. The older version is straight chronological order, the second splits about a quarter way through, rocketing, so to speak, from baby landing to adult Clark at work.

Richard Donner’s 1978 film is soaked in American nostalgia, even for a bygone era with Norman Rockwell vistas of farmland and cityscapes right out of comic books and the imaginations of children. Christopher Reeve is Superman as an adult, a Boy Scout with no doubt of his inner goodness and he dives in against bad guy Lex Luther (Gene Hackman) with no second of hesitation. 

This is the film for children of all ages. I was 4 when I saw it and was, for lack of a better term, in love. I wore a Superman shirt until it fell apart. Odd now, because I see the flaws now over the nostalgia. When the hell ever was the bit with the black pimp, “That is one bay-ad outfit!’, funny? It smacks of racism, to be fully blunt. I didn’t see that from my pre-kindergarten mind. 

I digress, though, for I still love the intent of this movie. More so than the results. The boy flipping through the comic book at the film’s start, post curtain, says it all. Even if I laugh more now at goofball, neutered Luther, who –- with Hackman on pure ham -– is a kitten compared to Zod. Oh, Zod. The anti-Superman from Krypton. Oh, sure he pops up in “Superman,” briefly in the form of Terrence Stamp, but he’s near the whole show in “Steel.” 

And forget that clunky insider-nerd title. This is “Superman Begins.” And from producer Christopher Nolan, no less. Except the studio could not use such an on-the-nose title. Not after Batman, 2005. 

Donner went Rockwell. Here, director Zack Snyder (“Watchman”) under Nolan goes full Terrence Malick, with an eye that calls out beauty shots such as swaying clothes in the breeze and farm fields, but he is is not afraid to show what lays underneath. It’s Superman by way of “Badlands.” It’s an insane move, really, and on my first move, I had no idea what to think. Nor my second. Months later, I’m still crazy lost and I’m not afraid to admit unsure. 

But I like that, I like that Superman can be created as a symbol of uncertainty and conflict. Do you beat back the bully, or try and save him? What’s it like it to be a child with x-ray vision and crazy-good hearing? Yes, Snyder and his writers take all those little boy Superman fantasies I had and turn them on their head. Do you really want those powers? Or would you go mad? 

As much as “Superman” of 1978 was a celebration of American greatness with comedy thrown in (Larry Hangman!), “Steel” is dead serious about an America with great powers that must ask just because we can intervene, should we? A scene has Superman ask that of a priest, of intervention and sacrifice on the part of Christ. Henry Cavil of “Immortals” is our hero, and purposefully not fully formed or the good guy that Reeve exemplifies. That will come later. (Let’s forget about that 2006 version, OK?)

The endings of these films are full theses in their own right: In the 1978 version, Luther slams California with nuclear missiles, killing Lois Lane (Margot Kidder, still the best in the role) by earthquake. Reeve as Superman is too late to save her and goes mad and -– can I say it’s unrealistic and not be slapped? -– flies into outer space, and spins backward against the Earth’s rotation, turning back time. 

Yes, turning back time. I cheered when I was 4. Now I think, were there drugs on set?

In “Steel,” Zod (Michael Shannon, seething and peeing on all the carpets) lays waste to Metropolis, Smallville, the Pacific, and untold other places, killing untold thousands of people as he attempts to reset Earth as Krypton. (Um, long story, better not to ask.) Lois doesn’t die, but Superman near goes mad here trying to save the world, committing an act that sent shock waves through Superman fans everywhere. I gasped my first time. 

But what a bold crazy move it is, and I won’t say. (Huge leeway: Did he not do it also in “Superman II,” twice?) As a whole “Steel” may not all work, just as “Superman” does not all fit together, but Snyder and Nolan are staking claim to a new legend. 

I pause just short of calling it ballsy, or brilliant. If I can cringe at anything in “Steel,” it’s that this film is not for any child of 4 or 10, and that is who Superman is for. Not adults. For children. My father took me to see the ’78 version. Big memory. 

Had I a child now, I would have taken him to see “Steel.” That cold dark blue may be too dark, certainly too violent with crashing cities. Is that our modern America, though?

Superman: B+, on nostalgia. Man of Steel: B, dependent on a third viewing.

Dredd (2012) and Mad Max (1979)

It’s the future, so bring on the apocalypse. I downed cheapo, gonzo 1979 Australian classic (and Mel Gibson debut) “Mad Max” as a fast antidote to “Dredd,” the second cinematic coming of comic book anti-hero killer cop Judge Dredd after the God-awful, terrible 1995 Sylvester Stallone film of the same name that put freakin’ Rob Schneider in the sidekick role. 

(The less said about that debacle, the better. It took me months to recover from just one viewing.)

Is “Dredd” better? By far. Miles. It’s still crap. For myriad reasons. The plot: It’s post-nuclear war U.S. of A., and the whole East Coast is a godless concrete jungle of high rises and crime. The police and courts have been merged into the Judges: Leather-clad, masked cops with guns and a glint to kill. Basically, it’s like present day America except everybody is an unarmed young black man. You can get “judged” and end up in a body bag just for walking. Sorry, I digress. Still on a “FrutivaleStation” kick. Can’t help it.

Anyway, Dredd (Karl Urban) is the best (read: most ruthless) cop in Mega-City (because Metropolis was taken) and we follow him here as he takes on a high-rise apartment tower that reaches for the heavens, but might as well plunge low to the pits of hell. As in 1995, Dredd has a sidekick. And it’s a she, and not Schneider in drag, thank the gods. Helmetless because why stump the fan boy’s eye candy factor, Judge Anderson (Olivia Thirlby) also is a mutant who can read the thoughts of others. Why are there mutants popping around? No idea. 

Dredd and Anderson enter the complex to investigate a grisly drug-related triple murder and within minutes find themselves at the mercy of the building’s ruthless drug lord (Lena Headey). Mama she is called, and she places the building on lockdown and tells every thug ruthless, shitty, one-eyed, tenant over an intercom that she wants Dredd’s head now. From there it’s war, the tenants attack our hero (and the girl rookie) and he shoots, bombs, kicks, scowls, and grimaces his way through the lot to the top.

If One Man Against an War Zone Apartment Complex and the intercom bit sounds familiar it’s because the plot and details were done exactly point-for-point in “The Raid,” an kick-ass Indonesian action/blood fest also from 2012. Literally, this is a replica. Down to camera angles. Everything says director Pete Travis is innocent, it’s a mere coincidence. If it is, “Raid” is still the better film. And Travis has the luck of a rat. “Raid” has a hero that means something and is one hell of a sight to behold, has a human trait, and a reason not to fail. It’s also a spectacular feast of stunts. Seriously, see it.

This has CGI glut, a zero hero with Urban (good actor, no slam, I like him) doing Eastwood as an unkillable tank, and it all means nothing. Absolutely nothing. I get it. Dredd is supposed to be the darker Dark Knight. Great read for a book, I’m sure, bur a lousy watch and with so many wasted opportunities. Dig it: Mama has created a nasty drug that slows the brain to a crawl so every movement feels wicked trippy, lights pop, and rushing water stands still, and the effect is crazy wicked on screen. So let’s see Dredd on that shit, right? No. Dude just kills and scowls. I won’t watch a third film. C 

“Mad Max” I can watch endlessly. You know the plot: It’s the near-future, meaningful authority is dust-bin history, and the highways are open roads of lawlessness akin to old Australia or the American West than anything we’d call the future. Zero horses, all cars. Gibson is Max, a highway cop trying to maintain some order against roaming bikers who steal, rape, and kill for the pure glee. The bikers make the error to wrong Max’s friends and family, and Gibson as Max explodes like a fuel-air bomb in a film that feels not scripted or planned, but captured out of a complete drug-fueled nightmare. Not slow like in “Dredd,” but warp-speed head-rush fast.

Whole sections of “Max” are incomprehensible and wreck loud, but few films -– especially chase ones -– have ever felt more in the moment. It vibes like a tale that had to be made or writer/director George Miller and his star would just die. And for all the story’s debauchery, Miller shows little blood or gore. It’s just over the camera frame’s edge, way deep in our skull, and that is scarier than anything anyone can put before our eyes. Gibson is young and scary fanatical, is that acting? A-

G.I. Joe: Retaliation (2013)

“G.I. Joe: Retaliation” outpaces the first installment of the toy-inspired franchise about an elite force of American soldiers dedicated to fighting uber-terrorist group Cobra, the latter obsessed with snake puns and world domination. Mind you, “G.I. Joe:Rise of Cobra” was an awful take on the 1980s comics/cartoon, mangling characters, adding ugly Iron Man suits, and putting (shudder) lips on the mask of a black-clad ninja. Here, director Jon Chu (“Step-Up”) ups the action -– dig the mountain-side battle of sword-playing ninjas -– and ditches much of the “Rise” low marks, reworking characters to give fan boys their due. The plot kicks off as Cobra has created an imposter U.S. Prez (Jonathan Pryce) and plans to take the world via nuclear disarmament. Satirical politics? No. This is child’s play. Speaking of, in action figure trading glory, most of the “Rise” cast has fled, but we get Dwayne Johnson as heavy-gunner Roadblock and Bruce Willis as the original Joe named Joe. (Channing Tatum briefly returns as Joe leader Duke.) Johnson carries all, while Willis yawns and the rest of the newcomers, including Adrianne Palicki in a painfully sexist “hottie soldier” role, strike poses more plastic than human. B-

The Wolverine (2013)

Does a bear shit in the woods? What about a Wolverine? 

In the opening minutes of “The Wolverine” -- the latest cinematic chapter of the X-Men mutant superhero saga -- we see the former, but thankfully never the latter as our fast-healing, metal-clawed, highly disgruntled hero Logan (Hugh Jackman) has taken to living in a remote Canadian cave to escape humanity. (OK, it’s a piss, not a shit, but damn the details. And if you don’t know who Wolverine is, just stop reading. I can’t help you.) This miserable life follows the unfortunate events of the unfortunate “X-Men: Last Stand” that left power-crazed Jean Grey dead by Wolverine’s claws. 

He killed her to save himself and the world, because that always happens in comic books. Yet, her ghost (Famke Janssen, also returning) appears in Wolverine’s dreams, her dressed in lingerie and in his bed as never happens in comic books. But this is the movie, and she’s not the only specter haunting Logan, whose only friend is now that bear. (Let the snickering begin.) Wolverine’s long past a century old, his genetically-mutated-at-birth healing powers keeping him eternally alive and at middle age. He has seen so much horror, death, and pain, his every moment is clouded by anger, ghosts and lost voices. 

Among the dark memories: His saving of a young Japanese prison guard as Nagasaki is obliterated by an American atomic bomb on 9 August 1945. That scene opens the film. The guard has since grown to become an old, dying billionaire owner of a tech company and he has plans for Logan: Mainly taking that eternal healing power for himself, allowing the Wolverine to finally die, and rest in longed for peace. And Logan indeed see his powers seeped away courtesy a villainous mutant known as the Viper (Svetlana Khodchenkova), a literal snake-like woman who excretes maddening and deadly poison. 

A now vulnerable Logan soon finds himself inside a ticking bomb Japanese samurai/gangster drama that touches government powers and includes the old guy’s 20-something granddaughter, Mariko (Tao Okamoto), who is the target of assassins, family jealousies, and dull acting. 

A wounded, bleeding, off-his-game Logan and the woman go on the run and on the train, to Nagasaki and beyond, all leading to a climax atop a high-tech castle that recalls at once samurai classic drama “Ran” and also – head desk slam -- every other freakin’ superhero movie made, most especially a metal man/monster right out of a certain Robert Downey Jr,. franchise starter. (Mimicry is, what, flattering?)

Comic book geeks such as myself -- weaned in the 1980s and on the high-mark of Wolverine’s Japanese origin stories, with him taking on black-clad ninjas in a snowy mountain village, no noise but the slicing of bodies and clanging of sword on claws in the cold snow -– have long looked forward to the story of Logan told on film. To the saga of Wolverine, it’s as important as Krypton to Superman. 

The 2009 “Origins” Wolverine prequel was a bust on every level, as we were robbed of this story that fired our imagination and made us feel like we were watching a forbidden film of grisly violence. So, this sequel provides a double-edged sword as we do –- finally! -– get to see that very story told. 

But –- head desk slam part two -– the showdown is dispatched in such a quick a flash, I felt gutted. Director James Mangold and his writers (Scott Frank and Mark Bomback, plus an uncredited script doctor Christopher McQuarrie, and Lord knows who else) already were pushing the PG-13 line with blood. Was this too far? Whatever the case, it disappoints. 

Yes, I’m on a fan boy nitpick. Screw my geeky expectations, right? OK. 

The film’s a mess in myriad ways leading to these final battles, from the listless romance between Logan and Mariko -- half the age of Jackman, and likely a tenth of Logan’s age, to the absolutely blank spot of villainy. We are served betrayals that fizzle, a big reveal that could only shock a comatose child, and as the main threat -– Viper, the snake woman with layers of skin –- a vapid actress unqualified to sneer candy from the grip of a baby. The film dies, I kid not, when Khodchenkova opens her mouth. (Language issue?) But she is not all to blame. It’s not just miscasting, the character of Viper has no motive, no purpose, she’s just there. She’s an afterthought in tight, ridiculously revealing outfits.

Maybe that’s enough for some filmmakers. (Mangold put Cameron Diaz through the clothes trials in “Knight and Day,” for sure.)

As Logan faces down enemies we don’t fear, fights for loves we don’t care about, and sees his powers restored -– naturally -– before any true pain hits, the razor sharp potential of this film is made soup spoon dull. I could not do better. But I expected better. Darren Aronofsky –- he made “Black Swan” and “Requiem for a Dream” –- was slated to direct this, and I marvel inside my own head at the film he could have made, talking Logan to the darkest reaches of a mind we see only hinted here. And putting buckets of blood on that snow. 

(The man cited family as a reason to not do the flick. Me, I think he wanted an “R” film, the studio tossed him aside. Such a rating would poison the box office. Bullshit logic. The movie opened soft anyway.) 

“Wolverine” is not terrible. Jackman is amazing, not just his bulked-out size, but the energy he brings to Logan. “X-Men” back in 2000 made the guy star, but he has stayed loyal to this character. Name another actor who has that dedication? If the film had his energy, it would be epic. But it’s only minor. Another scratch added to the list of disposable comic book movies that clog screens, not fill imaginations.

Stay for the end credits, a small teaser to the next “X-Men” film as two older gentlemen from the franchise take a defibrillator to this flick. Zap! The “ehh” audience I sat with got a jolt. I did. You will. Funny how I turn on myself, I’m growing tired of the genre, but bring on the next one, please. 

A question and from the first scene: How does Wolverine get taken prisoner in war to begin with, to set up this story? No answer there. B-

Iron Man 3 (2013)

SPOILERS ABOUND because I cannot do the out-of-left-field “Iron Man 3” justice without spilling its secrets like the myriad flying, not-quite-controllable bits of Iron Man armor that plague our hero Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) in this first-post-“Avengers” Marvel film. Nor can I stick to my 200-word count. (I really, really, truly tried.)

Upfront: Director/cowriter Shane Black steers this sequel to a sequel toward the “Lethal Weapon” thrillers that made him famous as a writer. Genius move. He finds every excuse to get Stark out of the tin suit and load him with MacGyver-like weapons, running alongside Don Cheadle as military man Jim Rhodes, to attack the villain’s glitzy Miami chateau and then go after a cargo pier at the finale. The ghosts of Riggs and Murtaugh hover close, as does Black’s directorial debut “Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang,” which starred Downey post-rehab/ prison/near-career-death. 

We only think mastermind terrorist named Mandarin (Ben Kingsely), one of Marvel’s most infamously racist creations, is the villain. Trusting the marketing and trailers. In truth, the dude’s a two-bit actor downed by drugs, working for a sun-tanned rich guy (Guy Pearce) who Tony once did wrong. 

The characters are metas, off-screen and on, Kingley’s loser the What if Downey?, while Pearce’s evil CEO is the What If Tony Stark? If neither had not “become” Iron Man. The stunt also takes the character down a peg, what can Marvel do? Complain their anti-Chinese boogeyman 1-D stick figure was not played accurate? 

The movie -– like the clap-trap maze of cranes at that finale -– is a Rube Goldberg machine of asides and homages, including 1980s “child sidekick” flicks, peppered with kick-ass action and a full tear-down of the franchise. Indeed this ends with Downey throwing the ball at Marvel and saying, “You’re move.” Cast iron balls he has. 

The plot is a wiry mess, and Pearce’s scientist lacks motive and focus. Never mind Rebecca Hall as another scientist with a quarter personality, and less screen time. These are moot complaints for all eyes are on Downey. He is Iron Man. Lest we, or Marvel, ever forget. B+

Fantastic Four (2005)

“Fantastic Four” is a sucker punch to the face and heart of every true four-color-ink-for-blood comic book geek who knew growing up that the exploits of Mr. Fantastic, Invisible Woman, Human Torch, and the Thing, was the coolest monthly read: A blood-and-marriage family of super-powered heroes with screw-loose hang-ups and arch-enemies. At least the plot follows the book. Five astronaut-types are blasted with cosmic rays while on a science mission, each person spouting outsize powers close fit to their personality: The ability to contort one’s body into any shape, invisibility, control of fire, and a moving, raging man of stone. The fifth wheel is the billionaire boss Victor Von Doom, destined to go evil with a name like that, except he turns into a metallic maniac, not a giant shitting asshole. Here’s a movie with 50 years of comic history as resource and director Tim Story (“Taxi”) kills it from the start. Bland, listless, with no sense of wonder, horror, or the fantastic. The cast is dull with Ioan Gruffudd as Mr. Fantastic and Julian McMahon as Dr. Doom. Questions linger: Would I notice had they switched roles midway through? Not likely. C-

Chronicle (2012)

Faux found-footage films are dead dull thanks to the “Paranormal Activity” quadrilogy. The low-budget “Chronicle” seeks to break the rut, and for the most-part, excels smashingly. Much is smashed in this 90-minute thriller after three high school boys stumble upon a cavern and quite foolishly (as teen boys are prone to do) touch a glowing, pulsing … something. Meteor? We don’t know, but the object gives the trio telekinetic powers. In sci-fi lore, newly powered teens must fight crime. Not here. They turn merry pranksters and play football 13,000 feet up. Then one of three -- bullied, beaten, and angry Andrew (Dane DeHaan of “Lawless”) -- goes mad and his rampage in downtown Seattle is so thrillingly of-the-moment TV news “real,” the sight is horrifying and exhilarating, thanks to director Josh Trank. But the teenage oh-so-exact shot “footage” and the constant meta-raised-eyebrows from the other characters halts the momentum, and I think, get on with the story. Stop the gimmick. That said, Track’s thriller near blows the superhero genre out of the water with a fraction of an “Amazing Spider-Man” budget. B+

300 (2007)

My snob self should hate the sandal-and-swords war romp “300” and its acid-trip virtual reality CGI effects salted by cliché dialogue about oaths of brutality as honor, and it’s need to be the War Porn film to end all War Porn films. Hell, it pits brave European men against soulless Prussians, i.e., lots of white guys squaring off against dark-skinned guys. But the hell with snobbery and politics, “300” is a blood-in-the-head, scream-at-the-top-of-your-lungs shock-and-awe blast for the eyes and ears that takes Frank Miller’s gloriously bloody graphic novel of King Leonidas’ last stand against Xerxes and puts it on the screen frame by panel, splatter by splatter, blood mixed with ink. Director Zack Snyder takes all the carnage of the page and adds in screaming, raging men, and thundering music primed for the male ego. Sexist? Homophobic? Ha. “300” has a massive female and gay fan base. One guess why: Those 300 men. This is not Best of the Decade film a la “There Will be Blood,” but when Gerard Butler -– in a star-making performance -– as Leonidas screams “This! Is! Sparta!” and kills a dude … “300” is my Guilty Pleasure of the Decade. A-

Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance (2012)

Endlessly loud, obnoxiously edited, and sporting two (!) scenes of its anti-hero pissing flames, “Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance” is a ridiculously bad reboot/sequel to the equally limp 2007 hit that starred Nicolas Cage as Johnny Blaze, a motorcycle daredevil who is eternally cursed as a demonic stooge with a flaming skull. Film No. 1 neutered the cult-hit Marvel character into popping jellybeans with Cage all wiggy Cage-like. “Spirit” moves the action from America to Eastern Europe, packing along a “Terminator 2” plot: Blaze must save a mother and son who are being hunted by the relentless Mephistopheles (Cirian Hinds). The kid is no John Connor hero, but the Anti-Christ. Yikes! Numbskull directing duo Neveldine and Taylor (“Gamer”) ride “Rider” into the ground with smash and grab edits that ruin every action scene, and unleash a sweaty, over-the-top Cage. The story hints at the Rider being a danger to any sinner -– even the Devil’s poor baby-mama -– but never delivers. Both films’ curse: Ghost Rider’s charcoal stick figure with its impenetrable all-CGI fiery skull makes it impossible to give a rat’s ass about Blaze’s spirit one way or another. Hell with him. D+