Something I’ve learned through my years of devouring movies is that when it comes to bigger blockbusters, always have your expectations set somewhat low. This has never been truer than with the Marvel Cinematic Universe, a franchise that I have had quite the tumultuous relationship with over the years. There have been good times and bum times, I’ve seen them all and I’m still here – and tonight brought the opportunity to watch Avengers: Endgame, the final film of this phase of the MCU, and what many are already considering the apex of the franchise. To say I was reluctant to watch this film is an understatement – not only was it the biggest project Marvel has undertaken since the inception of its cinematic universe, it was also one built on being the final chapter that brings everything together – and proudly flaunting its runtime of being over three hours in length (it could’ve very easily been categorized alongside its slightly misguided predecessor, the film I lovingly refer to as Avengers: Goes-on-for-Infinity War), as well as demonstrating its grandiose scope. There were two different ways this film could’ve turned out – it could’ve been an excessive disaster that had very little merit other than bringing an end to this generation of Avengers, or a towering masterwork that evokes everything we love about the MCU.
I am ecstatic to say the latter to be true, confirming that Avengers: Endgame is truly terrific, a marvellous conclusion to a cinematic odyssey that has taken audiences across the world, into other dimensions and through different time periods. It wouldn’t be entirely incorrect for the hesitant viewer to enter this film with some heightened apprehensions – I was one of them without any doubt, and I was nervous to expose myself to perhaps the most overconfident superhero film produced in the past decade. It just seemed inconceivable that a film of this scope would be particularly compelling, especially considering the MCU has often given us reason to worry when it comes to its more ambitious projects. Yet, this film is truly breathtaking and utilizes every iota of its audacity, and speaking from the perspective of someone who has only been a casual fan of the MCU and its nearly two dozen offerings over the years (I have adored a fair few, and abhorred about the same amount), this isn’t a film strictly made for the hardcore fans, but for everyone who has found themselves captivated by these stories, whether in film, on television or through the groundbreaking comic books that served as the catalyst for this, something quite extraordinary.
Unlike the film, it’s better to keep this short (and spoiler-free): there are a few elements of Avengers: Endgame that make it such a tremendous film. First of all, it seems to provide reparations for the sins of some of the MCU’s more misguided works, which did have their charms, but ultimately fell victim to some fault or another – whether it be lacking in character development, being too concerned with special effects and action sequences or just not being nearly captivating enough, there have been some real clunkers produced by Marvel. Luckily none of them disastrous enough to have any significant effect on the franchise as a whole, but also not good enough to reach the heights of the studio’s greatest works – because even the most steadfast detractors can’t deny that when Marvel hits, it knocks it straight out of the park. In fact, it was this attentive detail and good-natured humour that made the MCU such a compelling franchise in the first place. Avengers: Endgame feels essentially like the finale that every viewer has been patiently waiting for since seeing the arid desert landscape in the opening shot to Iron Man in 2008, the beginning of an unforgettable franchise that has been a pivotal part of contemporary cinema, whether one chooses to believe it or not, for quite a while, with these films being game-changing moments for the superhero genre. Perhaps what elevates this film from simply being the concluding chapter and takes it to the level of truly being special is that this is the film that the memorable characters in the MCU merit, and more importantly, the film audiences deserve. It would have been very easy to just end this phase with an exorbitant, dull and action-packed conclusion, but in crafting this film as a memorable send-off to a set of now-famous characters, it overcomes inherent genre shortcomings and propels itself right into the canon of great comic book films.
Avengers: Endgame operates on two different, but interrelated, levels – it exists to end the current phase in the Marvel Cinematic Universe and to set up the following phase with an all-new set of heroes, but it also is a film very much aware of what came before it, and a large portion of this film is unsurprisingly dedicated to looking back on how far the MCU has come. In many ways, Avengers: Endgame is the culmination of over a decade’s worth of films, essentially being over twenty films packaged into one massive experience, with archival footage of previous instalments peppered elegantly throughout, allowing for fascinating juxtaposition that allows us to look at Avengers: Endgame not only as the end, but as the start of something new, with the beginning defining the end, everything coming full circle. Just looking at the concluding scenes of this film shows how this is not only a film establishing the future, but also paying homage to the past in its own way. We are living in the Age of Nostalgia, where every studio is trying to cash in on this generation’s desire to revisit the past and be reminded of the “good old days” – and while most of not as successful as they purport to be, Avengers: Endgame is built entirely out of meaningful ruminations on the past – we see these characters that we have grown to love over the past decade interacting with newcomers that will take on the dominant roles going forward. Seeing veterans and new recruits alongside each other also serves as a reminder that Avengers: Endgame is not only a melancholy farewell to a class of superheroes that have been with us for a while, but a coronation for the next generation, who will doubtlessly go on to make just as much of an impact as their departing forerunners. There’s a gorgeous scene towards the end of the film, where we see dozens of characters from previous MCU films alongside each other. The details of the scene are inconsequential (and very spoiler-heavy), but this film concluding by weaving through the past, present and future of the MCU gives me hope that the franchise is only going to go from strength to strength from here. Here’s hoping it will, at least.
Yet, putting aside the nostalgia, Avengers: Endgame is a great film even if we consider it on its own. Despite its running time, it never felt overstuffed or unnecessarily long – every moment was carefully selected for its importance in the story. The biggest apprehension I had going into Avengers: Endgame was that it would be, to quote one of Ebert’s most famous criticisms “a horrible experience of unbearable length” – and I have not been happier to be proven wrong. It keeps the action to a reasonable amount, with the film mainly being character-based, not necessarily being solely focused on the external conflict, but also on the inner quandaries these characters are experiencing. Avengers: Endgame atones for the shortcomings of the previous instalment and proves that those flaws were not nearly as bad as they initially appeared, but rather strategically constructed in order to allow for the emotional payoff contained within this film. Marvel has always been are the forefront of creating interesting, fully-dimensional and well-crafted characters, and it has never been better than in Avengers: Endgame, where everyone, whether they are central to the plot or merely just a cameo, has their moment that contributes to the overall success of the film and considering the size of the cast, that’s quite an achievement.
This isn’t even mentioning the performances. Avengers: Endgame has a massive cast, and everyone is at their peak here. Robert Downey Jr. doesn’t only rely on Tony Stark’s rugged charms, and actually gives a fully-committed performance that reminds us why Iron Man thrust him back into the spotlight after years of being on the wrong side of the industry. Chris Evans, Jeremy Renner, Mark Ruffalo, Chris Hemsworth and Scarlett Johansson, giving what appear to be their final major performances in the MCU (with the exception of the upcoming Black Widow standalone film), with the credits containing a glorious tribute to the sextet who defined this franchise. It is understandable that the vast majority of this film focuses on them, with the rest of the newer characters arriving only in the third act – this is a film primarily focused on bidding farewell to these characters, and they receive the respectful conclusions they deserve. Some may have their reservations about how their decade-long journey came to an end, but we can’t avoid the fact that there is no failproof way to conclude these characters’ arcs, so what we received may not be particularly perfect, nor what everyone wanted, but it was what was most necessary. Furthermore, seeing so many different characters from the MCU’s past appearing throughout was wonderfully nostalgic, and even if only for a few brief moments, they play their part in constructing a terrific tapestry of a legendary franchise that not only gave us great stories but well-constructed characters.
Avengers: Endgame is a roaring success, and it is precisely because it understands what audiences want – superficial action sequences and flashy special effects have their place, but so does meaningful storytelling, and a plot that pulls together a decade worth of narrative into one coherent and often extremely touching story deserves kudos. Yet despite some triumphant moments that seem to have been brewing for years, this is not merely fan service – the emotion in Avengers: Endgame is genuine – there isn’t a moment of inauthentic sympathy or saccharine manipulation anywhere to be found in this film. Rather, we are given a concluding chapter that allows us to bid farewell to a group of characters many have become attached to, and like any real departure, it can tug on the heartstrings. Ultimately, Avengers: Endgame succeeds because it embodies everything we love about Marvel, and whether you’re a hardcore fan or a casual viewer, it is tough to resist the heartful, authentic charms of this film, and how poetic that one of the last films featuring most of these iconic characters is perhaps the very best?
Oh, and this film also has Tilda Swinton, in case you needed a further reason to watch it.
The Postmodern Pelican 
This was a long sit, but the words of celebrated director Martin Scorsese are perfect in this matter.
“When I was in England in early October, I gave an interview to Empire magazine. I was asked a question about Marvel movies. I answered it. I said that I’ve tried to watch a few of them and that they’re not for me, that they seem to me to be closer to theme parks than they are to movies as I’ve known and loved them throughout my life, and that in the end, I don’t think they’re cinema.
Some people seem to have seized on the last part of my answer as insulting, or as evidence of hatred for Marvel on my part. If anyone is intent on characterizing my words in that light, there’s nothing I can do to stand in the way.
Many franchise films are made by people of considerable talent and artistry. You can see it on the screen. The fact that the films themselves don’t interest me is a matter of personal taste and temperament. I know that if I were younger, if I’d come of age at a later time, I might have been excited by these pictures and maybe even wanted to make one myself. But I grew up when I did and I developed a sense of movies — of what they were and what they could be — that was as far from the Marvel universe as we on Earth are from Alpha Centauri.
For me, for the filmmakers I came to love and respect, for my friends who started making movies around the same time that I did, cinema was about revelation — aesthetic, emotional and spiritual revelation. It was about characters — the complexity of people and their contradictory and sometimes paradoxical natures, the way they can hurt one another and love one another and suddenly come face to face with themselves.
It was about confronting the unexpected on the screen and in the life it dramatized and interpreted, and enlarging the sense of what was possible in the art form.
And that was the key for us: it was an art form. There was some debate about that at the time, so we stood up for cinema as an equal to literature or music or dance. And we came to understand that the art could be found in many different places and in just as many forms — in “The Steel Helmet” by Sam Fuller and “Persona” by Ingmar Bergman, in “It’s Always Fair Weather” by Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen and “Scorpio Rising” by Kenneth Anger, in “Vivre Sa Vie” by Jean-Luc Godard and “The Killers” by Don Siegel.
Or in the films of Alfred Hitchcock — I suppose you could say that Hitchcock was his own franchise. Or that he was our franchise. Every new Hitchcock picture was an event. To be in a packed house in one of the old theaters watching “Rear Window” was an extraordinary experience: It was an event created by the chemistry between the audience and the picture itself, and it was electrifying.
And in a way, certain Hitchcock films were also like theme parks. I’m thinking of “Strangers on a Train,” in which the climax takes place on a merry-go-round at a real amusement park, and “Psycho,” which I saw at a midnight show on its opening day, an experience I will never forget. People went to be surprised and thrilled, and they weren’t disappointed.
Sixty or 70 years later, we’re still watching those pictures and marveling at them. But is it the thrills and the shocks that we keep going back to? I don’t think so. The set pieces in “North by Northwest” are stunning, but they would be nothing more than a succession of dynamic and elegant compositions and cuts without the painful emotions at the center of the story or the absolute lostness of Cary Grant’s character.
The climax of “Strangers on a Train” is a feat, but it’s the interplay between the two principal characters and Robert Walker’s profoundly unsettling performance that resonate now.
Some say that Hitchcock’s pictures had a sameness to them, and perhaps that’s true — Hitchcock himself wondered about it. But the sameness of today’s franchise pictures is something else again. Many of the elements that define cinema as I know it are there in Marvel pictures. What’s not there is revelation, mystery or genuine emotional danger. Nothing is at risk. The pictures are made to satisfy a specific set of demands, and they are designed as variations on a finite number of themes.
They are sequels in name but they are remakes in spirit, and everything in them is officially sanctioned because it can’t really be any other way. That’s the nature of modern film franchises: market-researched, audience-tested, vetted, modified, revetted and remodified until they’re ready for consumption.
Another way of putting it would be that they are everything that the films of Paul Thomas Anderson or Claire Denis or Spike Lee or Ari Aster or Kathryn Bigelow or Wes Anderson are not. When I watch a movie by any of those filmmakers, I know I’m going to see something absolutely new and be taken to unexpected and maybe even unnamable areas of experience. My sense of what is possible in telling stories with moving images and sounds is going to be expanded.
So, you might ask, what’s my problem? Why not just let superhero films and other franchise films be? The reason is simple. In many places around this country and around the world, franchise films are now your primary choice if you want to see something on the big screen. It’s a perilous time in film exhibition, and there are fewer independent theaters than ever. The equation has flipped and streaming has become the primary delivery system. Still, I don’t know a single filmmaker who doesn’t want to design films for the big screen, to be projected before audiences in theaters.
That includes me, and I’m speaking as someone who just completed a picture for Netflix. It, and it alone, allowed us to make “The Irishman” the way we needed to, and for that I’ll always be thankful. We have a theatrical window, which is great. Would I like the picture to play on more big screens for longer periods of time? Of course I would. But no matter whom you make your movie with, the fact is that the screens in most multiplexes are crowded with franchise pictures.
And if you’re going to tell me that it’s simply a matter of supply and demand and giving the people what they want, I’m going to disagree. It’s a chicken-and-egg issue. If people are given only one kind of thing and endlessly sold only one kind of thing, of course they’re going to want more of that one kind of thing.
But, you might argue, can’t they just go home and watch anything else they want on Netflix or iTunes or Hulu? Sure — anywhere but on the big screen, where the filmmaker intended her or his picture to be seen.
In the past 20 years, as we all know, the movie business has changed on all fronts. But the most ominous change has happened stealthily and under cover of night: the gradual but steady elimination of risk. Many films today are perfect products manufactured for immediate consumption. Many of them are well made by teams of talented individuals. All the same, they lack something essential to cinema: the unifying vision of an individual artist. Because, of course, the individual artist is the riskiest factor of all.
I’m certainly not implying that movies should be a subsidized art form, or that they ever were. When the Hollywood studio system was still alive and well, the tension between the artists and the people who ran the business was constant and intense, but it was a productive tension that gave us some of the greatest films ever made — in the words of Bob Dylan, the best of them were “heroic and visionary.”
Today, that tension is gone, and there are some in the business with absolute indifference to the very question of art and an attitude toward the history of cinema that is both dismissive and proprietary — a lethal combination. The situation, sadly, is that we now have two separate fields: There’s worldwide audiovisual entertainment, and there’s cinema. They still overlap from time to time, but that’s becoming increasingly rare. And I fear that the financial dominance of one is being used to marginalize and even belittle the existence of the other.
For anyone who dreams of making movies or who is just starting out, the situation at this moment is brutal and inhospitable to art. And the act of simply writing those words fills me with terrible sadness.”
Thank you, Martin Scorsese for articulating what I and so many feel.