Yes, you read that right. I mentioned before that, when I'm between stories, I tend to go the non-fiction route. This post is part of that. Look for a similar treatment of
Here Come the Brides in the near future, too!
This is a long post, but one I had a whole bunch of fun with! Love taking odd arguments and playing around with them.
Recently I had
occasion to view Ironman, the first
movie in the Avengers’ series.
Starring Robert Downey, Jr. in the title role and with a supporting cast of
many Hollywood A-listers (Gwyneth Paltrow, Terrence Howard and Jeff Bridges
among them), the film’s summer-movie, blockbuster format sits squarely in the
“fluff” category of movie-making. It’s an action-adventure with several chases,
some suspense and, supposedly stock characters where good always triumphs over
evil and the hero always gets the girl.
But can a movie
popular with audiences (it took in
over
100 million dollars in its opening weekend alone), also have literary
merit? Is there anything of the “art film” in a movie that starts, ends and
fills its middle with blowing stuff up?
And yet, Ironman fits all the criteria for an art
film.
“Niche market”
Let’s take the
last of that formal definition first. Art films are aimed at niche markets –
those usually small audiences made up of the smaller fish in the bigger
movie-going pond. The producers and directors of such films do not expect to
make a lot of money since the range of topic or genre is so narrow. They
wouldn’t say no, however, if their art film found a wider audience and hence,
made money for all involved. Art films such as
The Artist
and
Life is Beautiful
both made money and garnered awards for their makers. In spite of the filthy
lucre they took in, however, they are still art films.
Ironman is a movie taken from the pages
of comic books. Few people know the worlds of Stan Lee, fewer still care
anything about them. We’ve built stereotypes around this type of audience and
given them labels: geeks and nerds who are male, live in their parents’
basements, don’t date and spend most of their time either reading said comic
books or playing video games. If that’s not a niche market, I don’t know what
is.
And yet, like the
other two art films mentioned, Ironman
hit a chord with popular audiences, bringing in people who knew nothing of the
Marvel universe, wouldn’t know Stan Lee if he walked up and said hello, and who
wouldn’t be caught dead playing a video game. Just because it made money,
however, doesn’t change the fact that the original audience for this movie was
a small one, a niche market.
“Made primarily for aesthetic reasons.”
Really, this one
is a no-brainer. What director/producer purposefully makes a movie that isn’t
aesthetic? Aesthetic means beautiful and there are moments in Ironman that are breathtaking. We form
an attachment to the red and gold Ironman suit when the filmmakers give us time
to admire the shiny curves and smart features the first time Tony Stark suits
up. This admiration turns to despair when the suit is dented and dinged and the
helmet crushed by Obadiah Stane later on. We care about the art and beauty of
the suit and feel a twinge of anguish at its destruction.
(Sidenote:
Apparently Obadiah and his larger suit is called “Iron Monger”, but he is never
referred to that way in the movie. I only learned that when trolling for
details on
IMDB.
Because the name isn’t used in the movie, I will refrain from using that
moniker in this review.)
JARVIS’ 3D
computer displays are another aesthetic moment that audiences appreciate.
Watching Tony Stark call up and then pick apart his original design for the
suit on a 3D surface was not only fun to watch, but visually striking as well.
We might not yet have such technology, but we know it isn’t far away and seeing
an artist’s view of what it might look like is stunning.
But the definition
reads “made primarily for aesthetic reasons” (emphasis mine), not just
that it contains moments of beauty. That’s okay, because Ironman fits that reading as well.
Comic book
aficionados have very clear images of their favorite characters. They have
translated, in their heads, the voices, the mannerisms, the nuances of each and
every fictional person. They’ve discussed, debated, argued over minute points
of plot and character development. They are a hard audience to please and if
you miss this niche market’s approval, chances are you have a flop on your
hands.
Ironman hit the target not only with the
casting of Robert Downy, Jr. as the superhero, but with the design and
execution of the suit and all that goes with it. This movie had to keep the
comic book in mind at all times in order to stay true to the artwork already in
place. It was made with aesthetic reasons in mind and the very fact that it
grossed so highly at the box office tells us the makers hit their mark.
“Serious artistic work” and “highly
symbolic content”
Ah, yes. Here we
get to the meat of it. Is Ironman a
serious movie that uses symbolism as a means of making deeper meaning?
I say “yes” to
both.
A serious artistic
work is one that makes observations or provides a commentary for contemporary
audiences. It is one that explores questions about our relationships with
others, with our government, and with ourselves. Oftentimes those questions are
left unanswered by the end of the serious film, leaving us to make our own
choices, our own decisions regarding those deeper concepts.
Ironman makes use of several literary
elements in making its observations. Using the devices of juxtaposition,
literary allusion and symbolism, the filmmakers elevate this seeming
action-adventure movie into the realm of the art film.
Artistic
Juxtapositions
Authors often use
contrasts to make statements about character and theme. This is true of Ironman’s screenwriters – in spades.
There are six juxtapositions in the movie’s five-minute hook alone, each
serving as set up to the deeper levels of the movie to come.
The opening shot
of the movie starts in silence as a single-line convoy comes into view across
the desert. The shot shifts and the viewer sees they are US Army vehicles,
modern, up-to-date machines of warfare, passing a solitary Afghan herder with
his crook in hand standing by the side of the road. It’s hard for the viewer to
tell who are the good guys, especially when loud, raucous rock music breaks the
silence. Are we to pity the poor herder, shoved off to the side of the road by
the military convoy? Or root for the American rock music? This confusion of
roles will play out later in the movie between Tony Stark (Ironman) and his
long-time mentor, Obadiah Stane.
A second
juxtaposition comes hard on the heels of the first, followed by several in a
row. First, we are introduced to Tony Stark by what he is not. From the askance
gazes of the soldiers in the vehicle with him, we can tell his business suit,
shades and casual attitude (complete with drink in hand) are not what they are
used to. Then Tony’s (and our own) stereotypes are played with when one of the
soldiers turns out to be female. This further sets up Tony’s character as a
ladies’ man, especially when he says, “I’m having a hard time not looking at
you now. Is that weird?” He can’t (or won’t) turn off the playboy side of him,
even under such circumstances. A moment later, the soldier sitting beside Tony
flashes a peace sign to the camera in the midst of war. While Tony’s calling it
a gang sign is an attempt at a joke, the reality is much more gruesome. This
young soldier wants only peace yet carries a weapon to make sure the people of
Afghanistan get it, whether they want it or not. This theme of using warfare to
promote peace will return as a major theme of the movie.
The formality of
the soldiers breaks down under Tony’s informal attempts to engage them in
conversation, only to slam back into place when they are attacked. This leads
to yet a fifth juxtaposition: they understand what a roadside ambush means;
Tony’s completely clueless. His world is rocked, literally. He disobeys an
order, abandons his vehicle and ends up beside the largest juxtaposition of
all: the irony of the attackers using weapons purchased from Stark Industries.
He’s about to be killed by a bomb made by his own company.
None of these
pairings are by accident. The writers and directors made conscious choices to
include them to make specific statements about the movie’s broader themes: What
is the role of a superpower in keeping the peace throughout the world? How can
having a bigger weapon promote peace? How do our attitudes about gender roles
shape our expectations? What responsibility does an individual have over
decisions made by others in his company?
A more personal
theme is set up as well: Tony Stark’s journey from a womanizing playboy who
cares only for his own pleasures into a responsible adult willing to take care
of the whole world. While the hook gives us a hint, the playboy in Tony is formally
set up in the movie’s first full scene, a scene appropriately set in the
casinos of Las Vegas. Not only does Tony not show up for an award he was being
honored with, when we find him, he’s surrounded by beautiful women and letting
thousands of dollars ride on a bad throw at the craps table. Later he is late
for his own plane, much to the frustration of Pepper Potts, his assistant. Tony
Stark is free to do what he wants, when he wants and with whom he wants.
This contrasts
with his wounding and captivity. The metal plate Jinsen, his fellow captive,
sets him up with tethers him to a car battery. True to form, the first activity
Tony embarks on upon recovery is making himself an arc reactor and getting his
body free from the wires and weight of the large battery. Remember, what he
wants when he wants it.
But Tony, in many
ways, becomes captive to his heart for the rest of his life. Although he builds
a better device once back in the States, he has a special concoction he must
drink at regular intervals to keep his system in balance and must constantly
monitor the reactor’s power levels. If they drop too low, the shrapnel moves to
his heart and he dies. Again, the movie’s early scenes set up the larger themes
to come, in this case, where is the line between captivity and freedom?
Literary allusions
The contrasts
continue well into the first half of the movie. A pretty reporter calls Stark
both the “daVinci of our time” and the “Merchant of Death” and asks which he
is, not realizing he’s both. Leonardo daVinci not only created great art works
in several different media, he also created weapons of mass destruction,
including a robot-like defensive weapon, a “
mechanical
knight” that could deflect incoming missiles. Tony Stark does not create
art, he does, however, purchase it (buying and storing the Jackson Pollock
Pepper Potts tells him is overpriced) and, like daVinci, he designs and builds
weapons of mass destruction, including his own "mechanical knight" - the Ironrman suit.
The “Merchant of
Death” moniker goes deeper, all the way back to a book written in 1934 by H.C.
Englebrecht and F.C. Hanighan. Their treatise,
Merchants
of Death, discusses the history of war profiteering and the
relationship between the arms-makers and the arms-buyers (governments). At the
start of the film, this title fits Tony Stark, especially when he demonstrates
the destructive power of the Jericho missile. In his sales speech to the
military brass he states, “They say the best weapon is one you never have to
fire. I disagree, the best weapon is one you only have to fire once.”
Later, the true
villain of the movie takes over this epithet in a darker manner than Tony ever
held it. Obadiah Stane, the man who ran Stark Industries while Tony was growing
up and into his inheritance, is revealed as a man who wants to keep his
powerful position. Even the ersatz villain, Raza, understands this, making the
statement that brings us all into the secret: “You dream of Stark’s throne.”
The true “Merchant of Death” is the one who hides his identity, staying in the
shadows and selling weapons to both sides of the battle. The allusion is apt,
but applies more to Stane than Stark.
Tony Stark, if he
is to remain our protagonist, must be remade, changed, turned into a hero. The
catalyst for that change is his captivity. The use of the cave shows us the
depths needed for that change to take place. He goes from the sunshine of
California to the dark bowels of Afghanistan, from bright lights and cities to
a world lit primarily by fire. He’s forced to use ancient arts (blacksmithing)
to create modern weaponry.
When he emerges,
he comes from the darkness into the light, an obvious symbolism denoting the
success of his journey out of ignorance and into knowledge. He burns his past
away with fire, literally. In his new creation, flamethrowers take the place of
hands and he annihilates the weapons his company made and sold to the rebel
army.
But life must be
paid for with death. His mentor, Yinsin, gives his life so that Tony may live.
Another juxtaposition that forces Stark into maturity.
And what art film
would be complete without Biblical symbolism? Once he’s escaped and landed in
the desert, the filmmakers show a shot of him emerging from the desert, a new
man. Like Jesus of Nazareth, Tony Stark has been to his own private hell and
has been reborn.
It is also
important to note that his “jaunt” to Afghanistan took place on his own private
jet complete with dancing girls and booze. He returns to America on a military
cargo plane, stripped of all luxuries. The new Tony Stark takes those luxuries
for what they were—trivial and unimportant in the greater scheme of life.
A final note
regarding the literary devices used by the filmmakers: the symbolism of the
protagonist’s and antagonist’s names. “Stark” is what Tony must become, his
excessive lifestyle burned away, leaving the raw need to right the wrong he has
unwittingly helped to create. He is a loner, even to the point where robots
help him dress in the Ironman suit. He must make his journey alone.
Obadiah Stane,
Tony’s nemesis, begins as the mentor figure, having guided Tony and Stark
Industries while Tony comes of age. Both names are apt here, the first,
Obadiah, referring to a Biblical figure who is bent on vengeance. But his surname,
Stane, gives away the secret he hides. This man is stained with ambition and greed
that will lead to his downfall, his reputation discredited and blemished.
So, despite the
fact that this film raked money in hand over fist, despite the fact that it became
highly popular with the general movie-going public, despite the fact that many
slap the action-adventure label on it, Ironman
actually fits all the criteria for an art film and should be viewed as such.
(edited to fix a typo and correct an analogy)
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