Warning: Spoilers for Shazam! Fury of the Gods to follow.
There are three certainties in life; death, taxes, and that whatever finds its way into the popular sphere will undergo never-ending, ruthless scrutiny. At present, superhero movies are taking the brunt of this force.
Ever since 1998’s Blade, Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy, and, of course, Iron Man stepped into the ring, comic book movies have dominated the cultural zeitgeist, which is the single greatest — or worst — thing to ever happen, depending on whom you ask.
But there’s no beating around the bush here; it may just be a reverse flash in the pan, but comic book fatigue is really starting to bare its teeth. Despite Moon Knight and Black Panther: Wakanda Forever knocking it out of the park for Marvel, the relatively poor reception of Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness and Thor: Love and Thunder made 2022 a shaky year for the studio, and thanks to the even-worse time had by Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania, 2023 isn’t off to the greatest start either.
And while all hopes are riding on James Gunn to inject DC films with a new life come 2025, the current slate of DC Extended Universe films are doing the genre no favors; with Shazam! Fury of the Gods seemingly set to fizzle out as unceremoniously as it appeared, one has to wonder just why fans and critics alike are turning their backs on superhero films.
After taking a glimpse at one particular promo for Fury of the Gods, we offer an answer worth thinking about.
The promo in question involves stars Zachary Levi and Lucy Liu remarking on the themes of the film, including found family, blood family, and why people love each other.
Now, anyone who’s watched Fury of the Gods can confirm that there was in fact a family or two present, but they can confirm just as easily that the film seemed entirely uninterested in exploring family and love as a theme; everything made way for the superpowered spectacle and set pieces.
While one might chalk up this problem to “media training answers,” we argue that it’s indicative of a wider, dual-pronged dilemma; comic book movies are ashamed to admit they occupy the creative spaces that they do, and as a result, fans are fed up with the dissonance.
We’ll be blunt; Fury of the Gods is not a very good movie, and while this can’t be boiled down to one reason, its wishy-washy presentation is a perfect illustration of the conundrum we’re talking about.
In the film, Freddy watches one of his teachers commit suicide after Kalypso uses her manipulation powers to force him to walk off a building. It’s abrupt, terrifying, and while we don’t see the aftermath of the teacher’s fall, it’s still a darkly excessive traumatic event to throw into a movie like Fury of the Gods, which Levi alludes to as a fun, charming adventure.
And about half an hour later, Billy Batson makes a groan-worthy, creatively-void Fast & Furious joke.
The sheer contrast of these two events, coupled with Liu’s allusion to a theme that is in no way reflected in the final product, makes for a film that seems trapped by, or afraid to embrace, its own discordance. But why take that route in the first place if it leaves such a sour taste in so many mouths?
What if comic book films are simply afraid to admit they’re comic book films?
Let’s make something clear; there is absolutely objectively nothing wrong with comic book films. The problem, if Fury of the Gods is any indication, is that occupying one of the most lucrative territories in the entertainment industry may apply pressure to a film’s producers to make it something “more” than a comic book film. This perception results in such things as empty artistic strokes, such as “mature” scenes, as well as claims to grown-up thematic significance that ultimately go unfulfilled, breaking promises and leaving fans disappointed.
Compare Shazam’s self-consciousness to something like Cocaine Bear, a film completely unafraid of loudly occupying nonsensical B-movie territory. Cocaine Bear communicates its intentions clearly, making for a film that not only satisfies expectations, but exceeds them; the rather genuine sweetness that the film’s ending flirts with complements the light-hearted silliness of the premise in a way that’s entirely harmonious, and happily unexpected.
So why are so many comic book movies nervous about admitting where they come from? Sure, if you read most comic book stories, the cheesiness and bonkers-factor is largely off-the-rails, and, even though those sick of MCU humor may not agree, there’s certainly no shortage of corny quips in even the most dire of situations.
But these were the stories that comic book fans fell in love with in the first place, and even though these stories were no strangers to delving into some serious themes — some of them far ahead of their time — there was a certain embrace of madness and cheeky reckless abandon that these more recent film adaptations seem hesitant to indulge.
So what’s the solution? The way we see it, one of two things can happen, necessitating one of two extremes.
The first is for comic book movies to learn how to fully and honestly embrace their roots; a great example of this is The Suicide Squad, which has the added benefit of being a Gunn comic book film, which rarely do any wrongs anyway.
Nevertheless, it never claimed to be any deeper than it truly was; each character’s motive was simply a motive, and the film fully leaned into the fun factor that King Shark, Harley Quinn, Polka-Dot Man, and the rest of the Suicide Squad all created together. We’d live in a better world if comic book films didn’t shy away, even a little bit, from being comic book films.
The second course — and perhaps the less-optimal — is for comic book movies to go the full distance and actually try, artistically speaking, to go toe-to-toe with the rest of the world’s great movies. Indeed, even though there’s nothing wrong with the space that comic book films occupy, films like Logan and The Dark Knight have proven that superheroes are more than capable of tangoing in more… respected spaces, we’ll say.
All of that to say, if fans keep getting broken promises regarding deeper superhero stories, and comic book films continue to only stick half a foot in the door in that regard, why not ditch the zanier roots entirely and chiefly focus on the dramatic storytelling fundamentals that will deliver the movie they seem to tease?
The needs of Hollywood and other entertainment algorithms will always get in the way, of course, but it’s time that comic book movies take things to the next level, and whether that involves taking themselves more seriously or markedly less seriously, we just want comic book movies to be entirely honest with themselves and with us.