Steel (Johnson 1997)

I did not plan this. I really did not. After reviewing the 1997 comic book failure Spawn (ok, after using the film as an excuse to talk about Roger Ebert and his critical practice), I had not planned to review another of the three bad comic book film from the same year.

Yet, here I am reviewing Steel (Johnson 1997), perhaps the most forgotten about film ever based on a superhero comic. Based on the DC comic book character created by Louise Simonson and Jon Bogdanove in the aftermath of Superman’s “death” in the early 1990s, Steel was a last ditch attempt to try and launch basketball superstar Shaquille O’Neal’s acting “career.” The end result was dumped into theatres in August of 1997, and I was one of the few people to actually pay to see the film in a theatre (it was a birthday gift to my younger brother who was a fan of the character, before you ask). It was out of theatres about a week later and on video not too long after that, where it was promptly forgotten. Deservedly so.

Except, there is a historical value to Steel, though we need to look back a decade or two previous to the film, and to the medium of television. In the late 1970s and into the 1980s, a surprising number of comic book superheroes made their way onto television either in TV movies or full fledged television series. These programs, however, were often generic action series and/or crime shows that treated the concept of the superhero as little more than gimmick to liven up an otherwise tried format. The villains were common criminals rather than super villains, the actual moments of super heroics were limited in scale, usually being saved for the final act, and, like most American television of the time, the plotting was episodic and repetitive. Most of these attempts were terrible, such as the live action Spider-Man series and the horrendous Captain America TV movie starring Reb Brown. Often, the very best of these shows were not based on actual comics, such as the cheesy-but-charming Greatest American Hero.

The best known and arguably best of these programs was The Incredible Hulk series starring Billy Bixby and Lou Ferrigno. Taking the basic concept of the comic, that of a scientist who in an accident gains the ability to turn into a raging green beast when he becomes angry, the series combined it with the framework of the successful television series The Fugitive, with David Banner (Bixby) on the run, looking for a cure and helping the people he meets along the way, often assisted and/or hindered by his monstrous alter ego (Ferrigno). The series was goofy and formula driven, but Bixby made (and still makes) for a compelling lead, and the core concept was strong enough for the series to be engaging on a weekly basis.

The man behind bringing The Incredible Hulk to television, along with The Bionic Woman, was Kenneth Johnson, who also wrote and directed the original V mini-series in 1983, and directed the 1988 film Short Circuit 2. Johnson is also the writer and director of Steel, and to the production he brings pretty much the exact same approach to the film as he did to The Incredible Hulk. As such, Steel’s creative and financial failings are take on a symbolic dimension, providing late close to an era of comic book superheroes on film and television, an era in which filmmakers actively tried and suppress what superheroes are in an attempt to make them more “palatable” to mainstream audiences.

The story of Steel is that of John Henry Irons (O’Neal), a military weapons designer who resigns after his latest weapon cripples his friend and colleague Susan Sparks (Annabeth Gish, The X-Files) in a demonstration mishandled by weapon co-designer Burke (Judd Nelson, The Breakfast Club). Returning home, Irons is shocked to find his weapons are now in the hands of gang members, thanks to Burke. When the military decides not to intervene, Irons decides to take matters into his own hands. Reuniting with Sparks and teaming with a wise old junkyard owner (Richard Roundtree of Shaft fame), Irons builds himself a suit of armour and takes to the streets as Steel.

From start to finish, Steel is little more than a late 1980s/early 1990s TV movie that somehow found its way into cinemas, written and shot in the most perfunctory manner possible by Johnson. It is a film peopled by caricatures and stereotypes instead of characters, in a tale that is not engaging either emotionally or intellectually. It is a passionless project where almost everyone involved are working only to collect their cheques, and the lack of care shows in every single frame.

Were the film merely bad on that level, it would simply be forgettable. What makes Steel particularly awfully is just how much contempt for the intelligence of the audience is visible on screen, particularly towards its supposed target audience: children. Steel is a “family” film of the worst kind, preaching a clichéd message of believing in ones self and the value of hard work in the most condescending manner possible. Characters frequently stand about and make speeches that spell out the morals of the film, enough so that by the time Roundtree makes a comment at the end of the film about what one can do when they “really put their mind to it,” I was ready to put on Crank 2 in order to see something entirely amoral. Worse, the film frequently draws in the most superficial manner possible on then popular youth culture, just so it can condemn it in an idiotic fashion. For example, Burke’s post military weapons development is financed by a videogame CEO, if you can believe it, while a child character finds himself in danger because he takes what he believes to be a legitimate job at the same company.

(Note to filmmakers who are determined to make message films for children: it is unlikely kids will buy into your message when you are constantly telling them how bad their culture is. Please keep in mind.)

However, as much contempt as the film might have towards its youthful target audience, it is nothing compared to the contempt the film shows towards the superhero genre. While Johnson’s previous effort The Incredible Hulk may not have held much interest in grand scale science fiction and fantasy, it took the concept of the Hulk seriously, never asking the audience to laugh at the premise. As bad as the Spider-Man television series was, even it never actively sought to have the audience laugh at the very idea of Spider-Man. And while The Greatest American Hero might have been a piece of light comedy action television, its humour was born out of a love of superheroes. The series knew superheroes could be ridiculous, but damn it, they were still a ton of fun.

No such love or respect exists in Steel. At the best of times, the film is merely uninterested in the superhero concept, never bothering to make John Henry Irons in his superhero outings impressive or dignified. In fact, Irons spends most of his time being beaten badly or getting by on sheer luck over the course of the film. Even his “support” team proves to be more effective at fighting crime than Irons ever is during the course of the film. The only effort put in to make Irons seem imposing is in the way Johnson and director of photography Mark Irwin try to emphasize how tall their star is.

Which brings us to Shaquille O’Neal. To be fair to O’Neal, he is clearly trying with all his heart to give a good performance, but the man simply is not an actor. Irons is supposedly a great weapons designer, soldier, and a decent man. Of these, O’Neal is only able to pull of the decency of Irons, never managing to project the intelligence or disciplined mind that we could reasonably expect of a solider or someone who is scientifically inclined. Worse, Irons is motivated by an anger at his work being misappropriated, but O’Neal’s attempts at acting angered and outraged are limited to him barely raising his voice.

The unimpressive nature of the title character is highlighted all the more by his equally unimpressive opponent in the form of Judd Nelson’s Burke. A standard issue villain who merely wants power, casting Nelson as Burke is the biggest piece of miscasting in the film, even more so than O’Neal. While Nelson is a solid actor, there is nothing particularly threatening about him, and certainly nothing to indicate a criminal mastermind. His performance turns Burke into little more than a weasel-like midlevel thug, which makes Irons look all the more pathetic when Burke seemingly defeats him at every turn.

Given how poor a hero Irons is thanks to Johnson’s failings, the moments of unfunny humour in the film fail to be gentle ribbings on the character, and function more as an all out assault on the concept of superheroes. Were the film an intelligent deconstruction and/or comedy of superheroes, I might have been willing to go along with this total attack on superhero fiction. Instead, Johnson seems to be trying to shame fans of the genre and laugh at them, repeatedly yelling at them through Steel “Really? This is what you are a fan of?” Johnson only succeeds in revealing his misconceptions and misunderstanding of the genre, as well as its fans.

The thing about this is that in tearing down superheroes and heroics, Johnson is pretty much undermining his own supposed message at the heart of Steel. It is a film ostensibly about what can be done with determination and hard work, but the truth of the matter is that the film is about a man who dreams big and fails, made by a man who dreams small and fails. As such, Steel is an oddly cynical work for a family film, peddling messages that its own filmmaker does not even seem to believe in, in a genre that he admits to not even liking. As bad as Spawn is, it at least seems to be made by people who enjoy working in the genre, and were trying their best to make their film work even as it failed.

Of course, having now established that Steel is worse than Spawn, it would only be logical to see where the third terrible comic book film of 1997 ranks with these two. So come back soon as I tackle the notorious, and perhaps most hated film in all of comic book fandom, Batman and Robin (Schumacher 1997).

Spawn (Dippé 1997)

(NOTE: I will admit right now that this is less a review of the film Spawn and more or a discussion of Roger Ebert and his critical practice. Please keep in mind while reading)

Normally, I would not bother to ask my readers to read another critic’s review before reading my own (seeing as how most critics are better than myself). However, when the critic I am guiding you to is A) Roger Ebert, and B) he has written this review of Mark A.Z. Dippé’s 1997 film Spawn, I feel compelled to ask you all to read the work before launching into my own.

Now, allow me to be clear: I love Roger Ebert. He and Gene Siskel were among the first critics I ever bothered following, and I continue to do so in the case of Ebert. I respect his work without always agreeing with it, and even when I do disagree, he usually offers something to think about. Despite this respect however, there are two Roger Eberts that one might end up reading with any given review. The first, and most common, is the intelligent, well learned film scholar who can discuss and dissect a film with the best of them.

The other Ebert is the one who wrote the embarrassingly bad Spawn review I just asked you to read.

The review is not embarrassing because Roger Ebert liked the film: as bad as the film is, I have no beef with anyone enjoying it. Heck, I think the film so bad as to be brilliantly awful entertainment, what with Martin Sheen going off the deep end of “ham” with his performance, the bizarre turn from John Leguizamo, and Nicol Williamson ending his film career in the worst possible manner. No, what is embarrassing is the pains Ebert goes to try and justify his three and a half star review of the film, and his attempts to try and sound as if he has a working knowledge of the comic book medium. The review rings hollow, and highlights one of Ebert's downfalls in his critical practice.

Just take the first paragraph of Ebert’s review, that “Spawn is best seen as an experimental art film…[w]hat we have here are creators in several different areas doing their best to push the envelope. The subject is simply an excuse for their art--just as it always is with serious artists.” Putting aside the absurd notion that “serious artists” have little use for their subjects beyond using them as a pretext, Ebert basically asks the reader/potential viewer of Spawn to simply turn off their brain and admire the “pretty pictures.” And while I normally do not agree with such requests, I can at least respect the idea of someone admitting to doing so. They are at least being honest.

However, being Roger Ebert, respectable film critic 95% of the time, a request to "shut off your brain" would be, to say the least, odd. Or rather, odd to the audience he feels he is writing to. Hence, we get his dressed up version of the "turn off your brain" request, with reference to considering the film as an art film and to focus on the daring do of the special effects artists, who have apparently crafted a visual world that is, and I quote, "unforgettable."

Ok, fine, let us follow Ebert down this path for a moment and ignore everything except the visual effects, which includs computer animation, makeup, etc. Are they as boundary pushing as he claims? Is this world the filmmakers have created on the level of Metropolis and Blade Runner as he states? There is a simple answer to this:

No.

This is not a “no” in the context of the fourteen years of effects work that have come since the film came out. This is a “no” that comes out of an awareness of what was capable at the time. This is a “no” that comes from a deep love of real special effects development, witnessed not only in Metropolis and Blade Runner as Ebert mentions, but from the following films that predate Spawn: Le Voyage Dans la Lune (1902); King Kong (1933); Citizen Kane (1941); The Wolfman (1941); The Beast from 20, 000 Fathoms (1953); 2001 - A Space Odyssey (1968); Star Wars (1977); Superman: The Movie (1978); An American Werewolf in London (1981); Tron (1982); The Thing (1982); The Dark Crystal (1982); The Terminator (1984); Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988); The Abyss (1989); Terminator 2 - Judgement Day (1991); and Jurassic Park (1992). This is a “no” on behalf of Georges Méliès, Linwood G. Dunn, Ray Harryhausen, Douglas Trumbull, John Dykstra, Stan Winston, Tom Savini, Rob Bottin, Greg Nicotero, Robert Kurtzman, Jim Henson, and Rick Barker, among others, who I would not blame for feeling insulted by the suggestion that Spawn’s effects work are anywhere near their achievements, or builds upon them.

Not only is Spawn not a boundary pushing film in terms of special effects, the quality of its special effects are a massive step back from what was achievable at the time. While the design of the Spawn makeup in the film is fine (not great: fine), the minute the film decides to use digitally created effects, which is often, the whole film goes to hell (no pun intended). Take a look at the following captures from the film.

Now, remember in his review of the film, Ebert compared these images of hell to the work of Hieronymous Bosch, who painted in the late 1400s. Below is an example of Bosch’s work.

Does anything in the images from Spawn seem remotely worthy of Bosch’s work? The visions of hell in Spawn look about the quality of a Full Motion Video Game (FMVs) cut scene from the same era, which were often made with vastly less money and resources than available to the filmmakers of Spawn. Granted, the playback of such FMVs were in low resolution, but that was because of the computer limitations of the time.

Allow that to sink in for a moment folks: the special effects "wonders" that Ebert seems to love are on part with those in low resolution video game footage of the 1995-1999 era.

Of course, maybe Ebert was referring to the morphing effects in the film. The thing is, even if these were what Ebert was impressed by, Spawn A) did not pioneer the effect, as it appeared at least two years previous in the slightly-better-than-Spawn film Mortal Kombat (1995) (and yes, I am well aware that I am saying a Paul W.S. Anderson film is better than Spawn), and B) Mortal Kombat did these morphing effects far better, as did the 1996 Doctor Who TV movie. And even the television series Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.

But I digress. The key point here is that in no way, shape or form can Spawn be considered for the value of its special effects as Ebert points towards, let alone be mentioned in the same breath as films that legitimately pushed forth the development of special effects. This bizarre-at-best attempt at giving a sense of “legitimacy” to his enjoyment of the film is the kind of deranged statement that would have killed the authority of any lesser critic. In the case of Ebert, this failed attempt at trying to give Spawn a historical and cinematic significance comes across as little more than an expression of class anxiety and vanity: he enjoyed a film he views as being trash, and therefore must justify it both to himself and his envisioned readership. This class bias becomes all the more apparent in the manner Ebert appraises the film's narrative, and what it tells us about how he envisions the comic book medium and its readers/creators.

Certainly, there is not much of value in the storyline of Spawn, and the film suffers from the same problem the comics of the character suffer from (at least the ones I read from early in the run): good ideas with no idea what to do with them. The film merely suffers from the added problem of following the same, lame ABC plotting used by every writer who has misread Joseph Campbell's work as a rule book for writing, and the film never bothers to delve into the psychology of its protagonist Al Simmons (Michael Jai White) the "spawn" of the title. Characters make idiotic decisions because the plot tells them to, and tries to get by on the assumed ignorance of the (1997) audience on several topics. For example, you would think that a top CIA agent might realize that destroying a computer monitor will do nothing to stop information from being sent over the Internet. Not in the universe of Spawn.

Given this shoddy writing, one would be able to forgive Ebert for being dismissive of the film's narrative. Indeed, his criticism that the story is rather a sentimental piece of work is completely correct. The problem though is that Ebert assumes that not only is the quality of storytelling in Spawn is the same quality of storytelling in comics, but that this quality is what comic book readers crave and writers strive for. What else can be taken away from such statements as " in comic books, and movies spawned by comic books...[w]hat matters is style, tone, and creative energy"?

The entire manner in which Ebert treats comic book creators, readers and the medium in general is filled with contempt, and his review Spawn is this contempt written loud, and in near complete ignorance of the medium, its history, and its capabilities. Which again, would be fine if he would admit as much. Instead, we get to witness Roger Ebert's laughable at best attempts at trying to sound as if he is some authority on the comic book medium ("origination story"? Please stop trying to class up our terminology) to his assumed audience: the "literate" types who do not read comic books. For Ebert, the comic book reader and writer is some alien life form, caught up in their own little world in which “real” art and “real” writers do not come into, and hence will not read his reviews. Again, I ask how is one to take a condescending statement such as "I am sure there will be some who get involved at the plot level..."? We know who you are talking about Roger. Or rather, who you think you are talking about

Yes, the comic book reader and writer are strange illiterate aliens to Mr. Ebert. Never mind the existence of Alan Moore, who’s philosophical ponderings were what interested Ebert so much in Watchmen (2009). Or J. Michael Straczynski, a long time writer of comics and animated television who also writes films such as Changeling (2008). Or Neil Gaiman, one of the greatest living fantasy writers working today across pretty much all media, whose defining work might just be his epic Sandman series. No, these aliens known as comic book fans and writers care not for narrative, but merely “style, tone, and creative energy.”

Bullshit.

When you get right down to it, Ebert's review of Spawn is little more than the worst of Ebert's critical practices rolled into one review: written in ignorance, utilizing assumption and stereotypes over facts, and trying too hard to either justify his enjoyment of the film to either his assumed readership, or to himself. Probably both. It is a review that tries too hard, and had Ebert simply admitted to liking the film rather than reaching for flimsy reasons to justify that love, no one would have really cared.

There is no shame Mr. Ebert in admitting you loved a trashy movie, be it ironically or seriously.

There is no shame in your loving Spawn.

Superman/Batman: Apocalypse (Montgomery 2010)

(NOTE: this is just a small break from my Halloween Horror set of reviews. The latest review in that series is Bride of Re-Animator which was published yesterday)




For the first fifteen minutes, I thought that the filmmakers of the DC Universe Animated films had finally cracked the problems of their preceding efforts and were going to deliver an unqualified success in Superman/Batman: Apocalypse (Montgomery 2010). Those fifteen minutes are tense, atmospheric and present an interesting setup for a feature film, with the best design work and animation thus far in the series of films. Those fifteen minutes feel epic.

Then the rest of the damn film happens.

Ok, to be fair, the film is pretty epic throughout, the design and animation are the best the series has produced, and Lauren Montgomery’s direction is nothing short of fantastic. But after the first fifteen minutes, a series of massive missteps are made from which the film is unable to recover from, and the end result sets a whole new low for the DC Animated films.

I’m getting ahead of myself though. Superman/Batman: Apocalypse is a direct sequel to Superman/Batman: Public Enemies (Liu 2009), and begins with a meteor crash in Gotham City. Batman (Kevin Conroy) discovers a ship at the heart of the crash, containing Kara (Summer Glau), Superman’s (Tim Daley) cousin. As Kara is suffering from memory loss and lacks control of her powers, she finds herself at the heart of a disagreement between Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman (Susan Eisenberg) over how to best train and protect her. However, things become even more complicated as Darkseid (Adrian Braugher), ruler of the planet Apocalypse, sets his sights on Kara to as the new leader of his army, and proceeds to kidnap her. Will the combined might of Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman be enough to rescue Kara, and even if it is, will Kara even wish to be rescued?

So just how does the most promising of the DC films go wrong? As with the grand majority of films, it comes down to the script, provided here by Tab Murphy (Brother Bear, of all things), and the downfall specifically begins with a scene in Metropolis park. The scene in question involves Clark and Kara being attacked by a mysterious group we assume work for Darkseid. As we soon discover after a lengthy and destructive battle though, the attackers belong to Wonder Woman and Batman, who wish to take Kara to Paradise Island have her train amongst the Amazon Warriors.

Now, allow me to try and break down the levels of idiocy in the scene. First, as is clearly indicated in the film, Superman and Wonder Woman have known and worked with each other for years. Given this, one would assume that Wonder Woman would likely TALK TO CLARK about the issue of Kara’s lack of control over her powers, and offer to help Kara by providing training in a safe environment. Instead, we are asked to accept that Wonder Woman and Batman would jump Clark and his cousin, for the purposes of either A) kidnapping Kara or B) making a point of how out of control Kara is by forcing her to cause property damage after being overwhelmed by attackers. The reason I list two options is because the goal of the attack is never made terribly clear, but both options are idiotic and are completely out of character for both Wonder Woman and Batman. This problem is only compounded by the issue of the property damage caused in the attack, which is extensive, pointless, and comes soon after Batman complains about Kara destroying fifty thousand dollars worth of his equipment by accident. So, Batman does not care about any property that isn't his own? Oh, and don't forget that innocent people could have wandered into the park at any time during this fight, and have been injured/killed. Good work Batman and Wonder Woman.

What really makes this scene so unbelievably moronic however is that we discover shortly thereafter that the reason for Wonder Woman and Batman’s concern is that Lyla, a trusted woman on Themyscira, is having visions of what appears to be Kara’s death. So again, I ask this question: WHY ON EARTH DID WONDER WOMAN NOT SIMPLY GO TALK TO SUPERMAN ABOUT THIS? This is not a simple slip up in logic, but rather a completely idiotic scene that does much to damage the characters and the idea of them as heroic leaders amongst the rest of the DC Universe.

The rest of the film follows an equally aggravating pattern of jumping between excellent scenes and concepts to moments of mind numbing stupidity. Here is another wonderful example: after Kara is kidnapped from Themyscira, Batman, Wonder Woman and Superman decide to head to the extremely dangerous Apocalypse in order to confront Darkseid and get Kara back. Now, Wonder Woman is clearly shown to have an army of Amazon Warriors at her beck and call, so I ask, why did they not take at least a small platoon with them to Apocalypse? Given that they are warriors, and that Darkseid’s attack on the island left at least one resident dead, you would think that they would be up for the action, but apparently not. Our how about the likely crippling mental trauma caused by Darkseid’s programming of Kara? At no point does any character even address the possibility that Kara will need help recovering from her mental abuse (and yes, that is exactly what it is).

The film suffers from other writing problems as well, including haphazard and episodic plotting, fake out endings with cheap horror film jump shocks that fail to shock, and repetitious dialogue exchanges about choice and control over ones life. Hell, in the span of roughly seven minutes, we see Darkseid deliver a speech about what Kara’s life could have been with him twice. All I could think of by the time the film was over was how such a shoddy piece of writing made it through with Bruce Timm at the helm as producer. While some of the past films in the series have been below par, there is nothing remotely close to the lapses in basic storytelling logic present here. Even the problematic Superman/Batman: Public Enemies was more or less an issue of simplistic screenwriting rather than outright awful screenwriting.

What makes this all the more infuriating is that there are moments in this film that are so good that you almost want to will yourself to ignore the massive problems with the film as a whole. There are small moments of comedy that are just hysterical, including a scene in which Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman drop by a normal neighbourhood seeking a specific individual's help, and the stunned neighbours do their best to look in on the bizarre sight of the three heroes in a domestic setting. Funnier still is the reactions of Ma and Pa Kent to the state of their farm at the film’s conclusion. And the fight sequences are, hands down, the best ever done in a Bruce Timm produced work. All these bright moments however merely serve to highlight the bafflingly awful storytelling on display in the film.

Without question, Superman/Batman: Apocalypse is the worst film to be produced thus far in the series of DC Animated films, and is utterly discouraging for what we have to look forward to with the adaptations of the acclaimed stories Batman: Year One and All Star Superman. The only, and I do mean ONLY, reason to even consider purchasing the disc is for the DC Showcase: Green Lantern short, which is nothing short of excellent. However, seeing as there is a disc that will collect all the of the DC Showcase shorts soon, it is best to keep it in mind before making that the deciding factor in purchasing Superman/Batman: Apocalypse.

Superman (serial; Bennet 1948)

When I say that the 1948 Superman serial is disappointing, I don’t wish to give the impression that it is a bad piece of filmmaking. Far from it: while suffering from the same ultra low budgets as the two previously reviewed Batman serials, Superman is a far more ambitious effort, with more consistent writing, acting and production values. Or rather, in the case of the production values, consistent in their inconsistency. As a piece of the Man of Steel’s history, the serial is invaluable, given that it is the first ever live action adaptation of the character, and is only the third such adaptation following the radio series and Fleischer Studio animated shorts. And its faithfulness to the source material is astounding given the history of Hollywood to alter comic character source materials at random.

Yet, the disappointment remains, and the reason is a problem which has plagued Superman in all media, particularly in the early adaptations of the character: after the origin, the film doesn’t really know where to go with the character. How does one challenge Superman? Either the Man of Steel needs to go up against someone with immense power, skill and/or intellect in order to give him a proper threat, and/or Kal-El must go up against a moral/ethical challenge that he cannot merely punch his way out of. Sam Katzman’s Superman is no better at solving this issue than other adaptations, which is a shame, as the film begins on a promising note.

The first third of the serial covers the origins of the character and introduces many of the main elements of the Superman mythology, including Lois (Noel Neill), Jimmy (Tommy Bond), the Daily Planet, and Kryptonite. This section of the serial flies by at a breakneck pace to get the main story of the battle for the relativity reducer ray, with the planet Krypton and early life on the Kent farm being condensed into roughly twenty minutes of screen time. While this pacing does lead to many forced moments where characters make declarations of intent, while key events happen off screen (Ma and Pa Kent’s deaths are particularly brushed aside), this early portion of the serial is fairly exciting and involving, as we see how many of the iconic moments of the character’s story were in place this early on. Of particular note is the Krypton section of the story, and the handling of Superman’s father Jor-El. Nelson Leigh plays the role with real sense of weight that was an unexpected delight, as he verbally spars with the doubting council of Krypton’s elders about the fate of the planet. Yes, the destruction of the planet is mostly stock footage, but everything leading up to that point is given more attention and care than I expected. Certainly, the Krypton section of chapter one fares better than the Smallville section as far as writing and acting goes.

The problem with the fast pace however is that the serial ultimately runs out of material long before the finishing line of the fifteenth chapter. The Reducer Ray story is sound enough, with the idea of Superman needing to protect the ray from the clutches of the Spider Lady (Carol Foreman) making for a solid, if generic, through line, and the Spider Lady’s introduction offers promise of her being a slightly toned down femme fatale. Sadly, the narrative goes nowhere quickly, as the Spider Lady turns out to be little more than a stock villain shouting orders over the radio at her suit wearing thugs. The film isn’t helped by Foreman’s acting, who turns the Spider Lady into less of a master criminal than a pouting teenager. Thus the film is left with Superman fighting stock thugs for the rest of the film, and after opening up with the destruction of a planet, it is a bit of a let down.

The end result is that the film falls into a pattern that repeats endlessly with slight variation: Lois gets in trouble, Superman saves her; Jimmy gets in trouble, Kal-El saves him; Lois AND Jimmy get in trouble, and then Clark needs to save them. In between, the thugs attempt to either get the Reducer Ray, the secrets of the Reducer Ray, or a part of the Reducer Ray, and Superman stops them. Were the hero of the tale a little more vulnerable, it could have been a little more exciting, but its Superman, and placing him up against a bunch of thugs just doesn’t amp up the excitement level enough. Even nifty pulp ideas such as the villains creating a rocket launching device filled with Kryptonite is tossed away as the earliest convenient opportunity.

This doesn’t mean the serial is awful, just duller than a serial featuring Superman should be. There is fun to be had though, and plenty to interest fans of the character. For starters, Kirk Alyn deserves every bit of praise he has received for his performance in the title role. He plays Superman straight and with a sense of childlike joy, like he is playing a massive joke on the world and having a ball being the only one in on it. Noel Neill is a good counterpoint to Allen’s Superman, though all too often the writing makes her the butt of a number of sexist jokes typical of the period. Furthermore, Lois spends most of her time being rescued by the Man of Steel, thus denying Neill the chance to make Lois into a fully crafted character. Tommy Bond is ok as Jimmy, with a good comic rapport with Neill and Allen, though again, he is not given enough material to make his character all that distinctive. The trio of actors manage to carry the serial through its repetitive instalments and make the events fun, but by the end I wished they had more material to work with.

For all its faults, it is hard to hold them against Superman at the end of the day, given that many are typical of for serials in general and for the character of Superman regardless of the medium his story is being told in. It is just hard to make the film an honest recommendation when better versions of the character are available to watch. For hard core fan, Superman is a must see serial, though for all others, the serial only comes with a mild recommendation.

Guyver: Dark Hero (Wang 1994)

When we last left off with the wannabe film franchise Guyver, I spent an entire review pointing out just how poorly directed the first Guyver film was, being little more than a mashing together of various genres and stories without any structure or purpose other than to show off decent, but not great, monster effects. Now we arrive at Guyver: Dark Hero, a low budget 1994 straight to video sequel directed by one half of the team behind the first effort, Steve Wang. Guyver: Dark Hero by all rights should be as big a disaster as the first film. Oddly enough however, Guyver: Dark Hero does manage to improve on the first film substantially, though whether that is enough to make it worth viewing is another matter.

The major change this time out is that there is an actual story being told: Sean (David Hayter, the credited writer on the first X-Men [Singer 2000] film and perhaps best known as the voice of Solid Snake from the Metal Gear Solid games) is living a fairly torturous life since being bonded with the Guyver Unit. While Sean uses the Guyver to fight crime, the Guyver is increasingly pushing Sean to kill, a point which has finally brought an end to his relationship with Mizky. In need of answers as to what the Guyver’s intended purpose is, Sean searches for the answers at an archaeological dig where the remains of Zoanoids have been found. Sean is not the only one who has a vested interest in the dig however, as government officials and new members of the Kronos Corporation also arrive to cause havoc. What answers and dangers await Sean? And can he come to terms with being the Guyver?

As the story synopsis reveals, Guyver: Dark Hero is heavily invested in exploring its science fiction/superhero mythology, and the end result is better for it, providing a narrative focus that the first film was lacking. This time out, Sean has a legitimate reason to be the protagonist of the film, and is given a defined, if rudimentary, sense of character. This isn’t exactly a saving grace for the film, but it is nice to see that the filmmakers were considerate enough to actually try and give the viewer a reason to invest in the mythology and characters of the Guyver universe, as cliché and absurd as they may be. Guyver: Dark Hero can hardly be considered a great piece of science fiction filmmaking by any stretch, but at least the effort to improve on past failings and take the material seriously can be appreciated.

The catch however is that in improving upon the absolute misfire that was the first film, Guyver: Dark Hero ends up being less entertaining as a result. If Guyver was a train wreck one could not look away from, Guyver: Dark Hero is a slow train that uneventfully moves from start to finish, hitting no extreme lows, but never hitting any highs either. Guyver: Dark Hero simply is what it is: a quickly made cash in which hopefully allowed the cast and crew to keep paying off the mortgage till the next job.

Returning director Steve Wang’s work is competent here, making the best of what little resources he has. Wang still seems less than comfortable with directing scenes that do not feature his creature effects however, staging and shooting everything in a fairly stiff and perfunctory manner. Wang does manage though to keep a better grip on his actors and establish a fairly stable tone throughout the film, leaving one to wonder if the problems with the first film were due in large part to the presence of co-director Screaming Mad George. Still, Wang manages to slip up in a few areas, such as shooting large portions of the film during the day, which work against both the atmosphere Wang attempts to create, as well as his own creature effects, which come across as comical as they flail about in the forests in the middle of the afternoon.

Holding the film together for the most part is star David Hayter, who easily manages to surpass his predecessor Jack Armstrong in the role of Sean, though Hayter does have the advantage or having slightly better writing to work with. It is hardly groundbreaking work on the part of Hayter, but he does manage to bring enough charisma and appropriately melodramatic energy to the role to keep things lively. The rest of the cast does serviceably, trying their hardest to make something of the stock types they have been given to play.

Beyond this however, there really isn’t that much to say about Guyver: Dark Hero. It lacks anything in the way of political or social reflection, is devoid of subtext, and has no real distinguishing marks about it. It is a film made to fill production quota, and if that is all you are looking for, well, Guyver: Dark Hero isn’t that bad of a choice.