I must admit, I'm a little worried about Infinity War. I'm the weirdo who preferred Whedon's tone to the Russo Brothers. I saw Avengers: Age of Ultron seven times in the theater and loved it.
I also prefer the tone of Ant Man, Spiderman: Homecoming and Thor: Ragnarok to the more serious Captain America sequels. I go to the movies to have fun and forget my troubles for a little while. Some writer/directors think that raising the stakes means making things as miserable as possible. And I know the comic version of Infinity War pretty well. It's not gonna be fun watching the heroes I love die in a bloodbath. So...yeah. Not as excited as usual this spring.
Here's the other reason I love my annual Marvel marathon. I get to revisit each movie and boil them down to a takeaway or two.
This time, Iron Man felt like a poignant reminder that sometimes a sickness, and what we have to do to care for ourselves in the face of one, can create a super power. I live with a chronic illness. I'm looking into every avenue I can in the hopes of a cure. I use every treatment available to me. (I'm currently looking into stem cell therapy.)
In his first couple appearances, Iron Man is isolated. His scattered focus means he's not spending too much time feeling sorry for himself. He just does whatever he needs to do to stay alive. He even drinks anti-inflammatory green juice. He goes through ups and downs, overmedicates from time to time.
But Tony Stark is spurred on to live as much life as he can because he knows death set up camp on his doorstep.
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.