In Cinematic Denial

When people ask me what I thought of “Watchmen” I say something like: “There was a lot of great stuff, Jackie Earle Haley was awesome, so was Dr. Manhattan’s origin.  The plot was pretty glossed over since they had to cram everything in so you probably need to read the comic to get it but, overall I thought it was pretty good.”

Now, is this really my opinion?  Or the opinion I’m telling myself to cope with my disappointment?  I honestly don’t know.  It’s only been a few weeks since I saw “Watchmen” which makes me wonder, am I in cinematic denial?

Cinematic denial is a phenomenon that affects millions of movie-goer’s every summer and late fall/holiday season.  It occurs when one’s anticipation to see a film is so high that when it is ultimately horribly disappointing, either because of unreasonable expectations or because it was just plain crap, they tell people they liked the film in attempts to convince themselves, and to spare the pain of a matrix-like-shaking-your-fist-at-the-sun-tantrum.  Being someone who frequently comes down with this condition I can tell you it’s often hard to know when you’ve got it.  Typically, it takes a least 3-4 months to diagnose.   A well documented example of this disease is the case I came down with in the summer of 2006.  Here are the details:

I grew up, as did many others, wanting to be Superman.  I had a Superman shirt, with red cape attached of course, that I probably wore 80% of my waking hours between ages 3-5 (are you calling my bluff about the ages?).  My childhood environment was universally infused with Superman toys, movies, 5th birthday parties and underpants.  And though I’ve outgrown the undergarments with Superman furiously breaking through massive coils of chains (that image has a completely different meaning to me now) I maintain my enthusiasm for the man of steel (Admittedly, John Williams’ theme is one of my iPod’s 25 most played songs).  So, of course, when I heard about the prospect of a new Superman film it was met with giddy screeches of joy.  I was careful not to get too excited because I’d been burned before (I’ll save Phantom Menace for another time), but the hiring of Bryan Singer as director, whose previous efforts with the X-Men franchise had aptly demonstrated his knack for the genre, was very promising.  Hwever, what really sent my anticipation to stratospheric levels was the first trailer.  The music, the spit-curl, and Brando’s Jor-El, I watched it just now and I still got chills.  Not only did this guy know how to make a superhero movie, he clearly understood and deeply respected the material.  Against my better judgment, I was stoked.

Then came the fateful day.  When I look back, this movie could have easily been a home run for me.   I didn’t need it to be good to enjoy it, I just needed it to be Superman.  In the film’s opening credits when the music took off into it’s familiar fanfare and the superman S emblem appeared on screen I honestly welled up.  It had nothing to do with that film in particular, it was just the excitement of seeing Superman, any Superman, on the big screen.  I was the fish, the theatre was the barrel and Bryan Singer had the gun.  I was ready for my life to be changed.

Ok, where do I start?  Kate Bosworth, tragically miscast as Lois Lane.  Kevin Spacey, who let him on set?  Parker Posey, why are you in this movie?   Superman has a kid? What?  And worst of all, only one big action set piece.  ONE.  That freaking movie cost $270 million!   Almost as much as the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy.  All I get is Superman chasing after an airplane?  Don’t get me wrong it’s a good sequence that looked very expensive, but it’s no where near the top 10 actions sequences of all time, and let’s face it, with today’s technology and the limitless possibilities with Superman they should’ve have had no trouble cracking the top 5.  Aside from the airplane all the other action, including the mind-numbing climax, was increasing displays of his Super strength.  Wow superman is strong.  Wow, Superman is really strong!  Wow Superman is really really strong!  The most depressing feeling when watching a big summer movie is thinking “that was it?” (Matrix Revolutions flashback).

The movie was such a pompous substandard letdown I should have walked out of the theatre and immediately started hitchhiking to Hollywood to personally egg Byran Singer’s house (I’m glad I’ve matured).  But, despite the sacrilege, I walked out of the theatre in defiance.   I was not prepared to face the reality that the film I had been waiting to see for basically my entire life was a dull exercise in mediocrity.  Knowing I would be called on to take a stance I subconsciously formed a completely invented opinion.  This fallacy was centered on one of the film’s dim yet bright-ish spots, Brandon Routh’s wooden but not dreadful performance.  I would say things like “Well it was all so meticulously planned, with his costume and his hair having to be perfect, plus acting in front of all those blue screens.  For him to say a line even halfway truthfully is a miracle.”  I’m not exaggerating.  This was the basis of my defense of “Superman Returns.”  What a racket.

I finally came to my senses some months later after the box office drubbing Superman took at the hands of Johnny Depp (pathedic Superman!) and “Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest” (which I enjoyed due to super low expectations).  I hadn’t thought about “Superman Returns” for a while and was reading about a Q & A Bryan Singer gave regarding prospects for a Superman sequel.  The article talked about how when one of the questioners expressed of his disappointment with Returns it was met with universal applause from the crowd.  And that was when I realized.  If I had been in that audience I would have applauded too.  I couldn’t keep living this lie.  It was time to come out of the cinematic closet and say it, “Superman Returns” sucked.

You’ll be happy to know I made a full recovery and thankfully “Superman Returns” did not soil my memory of the previous entries in the franchise.  But the idea that it could have makes me take this sickness very seriously.  Looking back, I can think of many instances when I’ve been in cinematic denial and I know I’m not alone.  My question is, has it always been like this?  Has cinematic denial always been a cross for movie buffs to bear? Were people in 1930 walking out of “Free and Easy” trying to convince themselves that Buster Keaton was just as good with sound? Or is it a modern mutation caused by too much exposure to George Lucas (yes)?

Whatever the cause, until Hollywood starts making films that are universally awesome – which isn’t happening anytime soon – hopes for a cure remain grim.  But there are many ways to combat the symptoms.  If you or a friend may be suffering from cinematic denail, take solace (not the James Bond movie that will only make it worse), you aren’t alone.  If I survived “Superman Returns” you can survive “The Haunting in Conecticut” (why did you think that would be good?)  Just take a deep breath, throw up your arms and say “Who am I kidding? That was terrible!”  See?  Now doesn’t that feel better?