Most everything I had to say about Marvel’s The Avengers, in a review I wrote in May of 2012 but forgot to actually post, was summed up by film critic Jim Emerson:

A movie like “Marvel’s The Avengers” doesn’t need critics and critics don’t need it. Of course, it’s perfectly reviewable in mainstream journalistic / consumer guide terms (story, character, action, effects, acting, etc.). My own hunch is that it’s not going to be subjected to much in-depth critical analysis. Not of its aesthetics, anyway. Somebody might write about how it changed the movie business (if it does), or study the mythology of the “Marvel Cinematic Universe,” or examine the technologies used in making it, but they’re not going to study the filmmaking, which is serviceable but little more. There just isn’t all that much going on from shot to shot (I’m a fan of Whedon’s “Buffy,” but he isn’t that kind of director). As M. Leary says in a piece at Filmwell on the movie’s fleeting references to theism, “The primary purpose of the film is to be awesome, and it certainly accomplishes that.” No need for criticism if that’s all there is to it. Somebody says “It’s awesome!” and somebody else says “No it’s not!” and that’s the extent of the discussion (which has nothing to do with movie criticism). We’re simply back in Monty Python’s Argument Clinic, where there’s no argument, just contradiction in the most simplistic terms.

—Jim Emerson, Scanners With Jim Emerson

Saw Captain America, finally. Or, at least, I *tried* to see it. At least two different families, for some insane reason, chose to bring their toddlers along to the film. The little ones were wholly unconcerned with Captain America or the nearly-full house who’d come out on a Monday evening to see him. They did not use their indoor voices. Although the parents did try and keep them quiet, two-year olds are going to be two-year olds. I absolutely despise going to the movies, and I was distracted and angry—just like a two-year old— all through Captain America.

Look, I know times are tight and sitters cost, but staying home with the wee little ones is the price you pay for your thoughtless and likely drunken impulsive screwing. People who don’t want to be parents should find some discipline to protect themselves, and parents should come to grips with the fact that children literally take over the entirety of your life. Nobody stood up and screamed at these people, but, even in the dark, I could clearly see how tense the audience was at the utter selfishness of these people.

I was actually going to walk out after the first act but I fell asleep instead. All the action stuff just bored me to tears. I thought the reimagining of certain details of Cap’s origin worked quite nicely for the most part, but every time I looked at the actor playing Steve Rogers—though quite capable and awash with earnestness—I kept seeing Matt Damon and a much better performance.

Tommy Lee Jones was wasted, the whole Bucky Barnes B-story was a waste. It wasn’t the worst super- hero movie I’d seen, but we would have rather had Matt Damon, whose raw acting skill would have added much-needed depth to the main character. Like most other super-hero flicks I’ve seen, the central character was nowhere near as fascinating to watch as Downey’s Tony Stark. It’s as if the creators of these subsequent films hadn’t seen Iron Man.

Chris Evans is a fine actor and he did a credible job, but he lacked the gravity well of Downey’s self-absorption. In Iron Man, every cutaway from Downey was a chore. I couldn’t wait to get back to Downey to see what whacky thing Stark would do next. The same was true in The Dark Knight, only that sentiment applied not to the hero but the ensorcelled performance of Heath Ledger as the villain. Thus far only Downey has made the hero of these hero films insatiably compelling. Somebody should sit with the writers and help them to understand that concept: the hero must be not only worth watching, but so compelling you can’t take your eyes off him.

Of this summer’s crop of films, I’ve not cared one whit whether or not Thor got his powers back or if Hal Jordan lived or died. I didn’t care, at all, about any of the New Mutants in X-Men: First Class, and, past the amazing Skinny Guy special effect of the first act, I didn’t care what happened to Captain America. These are fatal flaws of these films. They are formulaic and extremely predictable. In every case, once the hero puts the costume on, the film runs out of interesting places to take us. The notable exception is, again, the first Iron Man, where the costume itself was a character, and the more he wore it, the more that armor changed the character inside it.

Early on, real soldiers laugh at Captain America’s costume. There should have been a point where, once he’d grown and changed internally, once he’d proven himself to these men, that the costume itself ceased being a joke to the men and instead became an inspiration to them. Maybe I slept through that shot, but I didn’t see it. Evans’s was not a bad performance by any stretch, I just didn’t care whether the Red Skull iced him or not—a consistent complaint of this rush of films and even the very good Bat films.

Make me care about the hero. Stop allowing him to be upstaged by the villains. You’d think this would be elementary, screen writing 101. I am terrified that, in the rush to make production dates and in the euphoria of this digital effects age, that already DC and Marvel are forgetting what made these heroes heroes in the first place.