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Film Features Film/TV

Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness

It wasn’t obvious at the time, but in 1980, one of the most significant movies in the history of American cinema was filmed in the woods around Morristown, Tennessee. The Evil Dead was the brain child of Sam Raimi and Bruce Campbell, who scrounged together just enough money to pay a 13-person crew to live in a broke-down cabin for a few miserable months. Raimi, who was 20 years old at the time, combined the supernatural horror of The Exorcist and the slasher gore of Halloween with the slapstick comedy of The Three Stooges. In the editing room, Raimi met Joel Coen, who, inspired by the fledgeling director’s can-do spirit, convinced his brother Ethan to make their own low-budget indie film, Blood Simple. After a rapturous review by Stephen King, The Evil Dead became a wildly profitable cult classic. 

In 1990, the year after Tim Burton’s Batman, Raimi directed Darkman, an original superhero film starring a young Liam Neeson. When the now-disgraced director Bryan Singer’s X-Men films took off in the late 90s, Raimi’s innovative vision earned him the director’s chair for Spider-Man. When the Marvel Cinematic Universe launched with Iron Man in 2008, it resembled Raimi’s light-dark, comedy-drama tone more than Christopher Nolan’s gritty, sour Batman Begins

Raimi felt burned by the mixed reaction to Spider-Man 3 and stopped making superhero movies until Disney loaded up the money truck to lure him into helming Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. It’s the best investment the House of Mouse has made in a long time. 

Xochitl Gomez, Benedict Wong, and Benedict Cumberbatch go Dutch angle.

Benedict Cumberbatch returns as Dr. Stephen Strange, the former surgeon turned sorcerer who was the brains behind the world-saving operation when the Avengers took on Thanos. The film opens with Strange and America Chavez (Xochitl Gomez) soaring through an aerobatic sequence recalling the beginning of Revenge of the Sith. But when the sorcerer falls to a space demon, we learn that this is not THE Doctor Strange, but merely A Doctor Strange from a different corner of the multiverse. America is a wild magic talent who can travel between realities, and someone is sending giant tentacle monsters after her. 

That someone turns out to be Wanda Maximoff (Elizabeth Olsen), the Avenger who has completed her heel turn into the Scarlett Witch after creating her own sitcom pocket universe in WandaVision. She is seeking a universe where the two sons she never had in this world actually exist, and that means stealing America’s power. Strange realizes she has been corrupted by the Darkhold, a tome of forbidden chaos magic, and seeks the mythical Book of Vishanti, which contains spells to counter Wanda’s newfound might. 

Rachel McAdams, Benedict Cumberbatch, and Xochitl Gomez step between worlds.

Marvel comics appropriated the concept of the multiverse from quantum physics to explain the contradictions between different writers’ versons of their heroes histories, and now, with Everthing Everywhere All At Once and Rick and Morty, the concept has invaded mainstreams pop culture. With writer Michael Waldron (who won an Emmy for the Rick and Morty episode “The Vat of Acid”), Raimi milks the multiverse for all kinds of fun romps over its spry, two-hour running time. His restless camera swoops and dives, pushes in for comic effect, and pulls back to shoot fights like MGM dance sequences—especially in a music-themed magic duel which brings super-genius Danny Elfman’s score to the fore. 

Cumberbatch is loose, playful, and supremely confident as Marvel’s resident magical curmudgeon. Olsen adds dark nuance to her sympathetic WandaVision interpretation of Scarlet Witch, creating the best super hero-villain pairing since Black Panther and Killmonger. The multiverse story creates opportunities to introduce all kinds of new characters and variations on old ones, and then kill them off without consequence. In one parallel Earth, we meet a version of Agent Peggy Carter (Hayley Atwell) who took the supersoldier serum instead of Steve Rogers, and put the Union Jack on her shield. (Why does Captain Carter get a jetpack when Captain American doesn’t?) There’s also an emotional appearance by the great Patrick Stewart as an alternate Charles Xavier, who matches minds with Wanda. And of course, the legendary Bruce Campbell has a brilliant comedic cameo.

After a series of Marvel movies that range from the bloated Infinity War saga to the ho-hum Eternals, this is an exciting, visually inventive adventure actually worth the money to see on the big screen. Sam Raimi doesn’t need $200 million to make a great film, but when he has it, he shows everyone how it’s done.   

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Film Features Film/TV

Film Retrospective: Batman (1989)

This week, 25 years ago, I was a knot of anticipation. The thing I wanted to see more than any other thing, the Batman film, was at last coming out. I’m not saying I wanted to see Batman more than I wanted to see any other movie at the time; I mean I had never been so eager to partake in anything, ever. In retrospect, I haven’t been so excited for the release of any other piece of pop culture. I think the only things to surpass it are real-life greatnesses: kissing a girl, getting married, the birth of my children. Seriously. (Where are you going? Come back!)

I was so excited in part because I loved and devoured the Batman comics. The character appealed to my maturing sense of identity and growing individualism. He was no less human than I was — he wasn’t bitten by a radioactive spider, exposed to cosmic or gamma rays, or orphaned from an alien planet — infinitely relatable to this here shy little nerd. What made Bruce Wayne into Batman was nothing but a common traumatic childhood; granted, my sheltered, suburban upbringing was far from harrowing. But, if you stabbed Batman with a sword-umbrella, he’d bleed like anyone else, and he became successful by dint of willpower alone. Plus, what kid doesn’t want to hear that it’s the monsters who should be afraid of the dark?

Michael Keaton in Batman

The movie Batman hit me square in the face, at age 13, the summer before 8th grade, a seminal moment at a seminal age. It marked my transition from an artless, prepubescent consumer of whatever happened to be in front of me to a relatively thoughtful observer of craft and commercialism. The coming of age was my (forgive me) Bat Mitzvah.

Batman felt like the first movie that was made for me. I pined for news in the build-up to its release — this was, of course, long before the internet, a lonely place of dying that left one starved for information. I watched Entertainment Tonight routinely, hoping for clips or updates; I scoured for showbiz tidbits in the Appeal section of The Commercial Appeal — this was pre-Captain Comics. Entertainment Weekly didn’t exist yet. MTV ran a “Steal the Batmobile” contest; I obsessed over the glimpses of the movie the promos and commercials showed. When the video to Prince’s “Batdance” premiered in advance of the film’s release, I was devastated: It didn’t show any scenes from the movie.

Finally, Batman came out. I saw it at Highland Quartet, the first showing on the first day. It napalmed me. I could not have loved it more. It buried itself in my DNA instantly. I bought the Danny Elfman score on tape and wore it out. To this day, it’s my all-time favorite soundtrack. I waited on tenterhooks for the box office results, finally delivered (at least, in my recollection) in the voice of Chris Connelly on an MTV News segment: Batman had a huge opening weekend. I felt personally vindicated. (As I said, I was a nerd.)

Batman was my first movie review. I wrote it for myself, in a journal kept in a spiral school notebook that has been, sadly, lost to time. After some attic digging, I did unearth the second volume of my journal, running from August 1989 to December 1990. Included within is my first ever movies list, presented here unadulterated:

Top 15 Movies, 6-29-90, 1:41-1:46 a.m.

1. Batman

2. The Hunt for Red October

3. RoboCop 2

4. Dirty Rotten Scoundrels

5. Gremlins 2

6. The Jerk

7. RoboCop

8. Die Hard

9. The Terminator

10. Top Gun

11. The Blues Brothers

12. The Running Man

13. Young Guns

14. Blind Date

15. Parenthood

Looking back, there are plenty of things to commend in Tim Burton’s film. His German Expressionistic sensibilities (and Anton Furst production design) perfectly reflect the shadows of the mind cast within by Bruce Wayne’s psychological scars; Michael Keaton is surprisingly good as Batman; Jack Nicholson is terrific as the Joker. Its reputation was only burnished by the disappointments that followed, with the 1990s sequels Batman Returns, Batman Forever, and Batman & Robin.

However, in 2005, with Batman Begins, Christopher Nolan rendered the 1989 Batman irrelevant — astonishingly, but no less substantively. Nolan and Christian Bale made a grown-up adaptation — textually moodier, with characters more realistically beat down by life’s injustices — that thoroughly neutered the Burton/Keaton “original.”

The one thing missing from Nolan’s update was the childhood sense of awe and joy that I see bursting from the 1989 film. It’s not really Batman Begins‘ fault. How could it have possibly contained and inspired all that life-changing ecstasy? After all, I wasn’t there to provide it.