Took the boy and two of his friends to Superman Returns yesterday. (And let me say chaperoning three nine-year-olds at a superhero movie is probably something it's okay to eliminate from your "things to do before I die" list). Shushing from other annoyed movie patrons aside, (and let me now use the speech I was preparing for the two stereotypical comic-book geeks who kept shushing us: "You are at a superhero movie in the middle of the day in the summer! You have to expect there will be kids here! If you want a kid-free movie experience, go to some art-house movie at night! Or better yet, stop going to comic book movies altogether, you joyless, loveless lumps of goo!") my feelings about the movie were mixed.
On the one hand, the movie did deliver a sizeable number of popcorn-movie thrills, and it was cool to see Supes saving the day. And Jimmy Olson nearly steals the movie, and might have succeeded had Kevin Spacey and Parker Posey not been busily chewing scenery every time they were on screen. (Don't get me wrong--I loved it. Ham it up! It's a comic book movie!)
And yet, we have the Bryan Singer problem surfacing again. Two and a quarter hours! Dude, this movie is based on a format you can finish in a trip to the can! Edit! I probably wouldn't have had to endure so much shushing from the other theater patrons if the movie hadn't had these long, slow stretches where not much is going on.
And we have the Superman problem, which is that the character isn't all that interesting. This was compounded by the fact that the actor (name escapes me--Brandon somebodyorother) playing Superman wears this weird blank-eyed stare through pretty much the whole movie. Can't really blame him, since the script gives him nothing to work with and it was probably the director's choice anyway, but still.
As a former mandated reporter of abuse and neglect, I nearly called the Department of Social Services on Lois Lane. Bad mom! (if you see the movie, you'll know what I'm talking about) And, I mean, it was a little hard to believe that she was gainfully employed as a star Daily Planet reporter five years before the action of the movie begins, since the actress who plays her was seventeen five years before the movie was shot.
Finally--poor James Marsden. In three X-men movies, he plays the nice guy Jean Gray is stuck with though she obviously wants Wolverine, and here he's the nice guy Lois Lane is stuck with though she obviously wants Superman. If I were him, I'd be demanding some more studly roles before he's typecast as Supercuckold.
