The Marvels
It brings me absolutely no joy to report that “The Marvels” is terrible, and the worst film yet in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
“Thor: The Dark World” was merely a forgettable drag. “Eternals” was an overlong slog but always gorgeous to watch. “Thor: Love & Thunder” was disjointed tonally but featured a terrifying Christian Bale performance.
Within a pop culture empire that’s become increasingly inconsistent in quality, precisely because of its efforts to remain consistently in front of our eyeballs, “The Marvels” had the potential to offer a much-needed breath of fresh air. Carol Danvers, Monica Rambeau and Kamala Khan have all been hugely enjoyable characters in their respective movies and TV series, so the possibility of a shared adventure for them held promise. Instead, it’s a narrative and visual jumble, and the clearest evidence yet that maybe we don’t need some sort of Marvel product in theaters or on streaming at all times.
What’s especially frustrating is that the actresses playing these comic book roles have each brought something specific and compelling: Brie Larson with her spiky cool throughout the MCU but particularly in “Captain Marvel”; Teyonah Parris with her warmth and wisdom on “WandaVision”; Iman Vellani with her infectious teenage enthusiasm on “Ms. Marvel.” Having “Candyman” director Nia DaCosta at the helm felt like an inspired choice, and suggested the kind of perspective we don’t usually see within this male-centric movie universe.
But the script from DaCosta and co-writers Megan McDonnell (“WandaVision”) and Elissa Karasik (“Loki”) is a mess as it tries to cram in all three characters’ stories, plus connect back to other MCU properties while also spinning this behemoth saga forward. You definitely need to be familiar with Carol, Monica and Kamala’s previous movies and/or series, as well as “Secret Invasion” on Disney+ and some other content I won’t mention for fear of spoilers. In trying to juggle all of these elements, it never really finds a groove. The story veers between people standing around explaining things to each other and inscrutable action sequences in which characters go flying across the room in dizzying fashion. It’s short—only about an hour and 45 minutes—so the emotional connections and stakes feel forced and rushed. It’s as if big sections are missing that would have made this make more sense. Instead, Carol, Monica and Kamala are literally thrown together to defeat Zawe Ashton’s wild-eyed, vengeful Kree villain, Dar-Benn.
From the very start, Ashton’s character is at the center of the film’s spectacularly hideous visual effects. An opening sequence in which Dar-Benn discovers the powerful bangle she’s long sought—a match to the one that gives Kamala her powers—has the chintzy look of an unadorned soundstage. Giant boulders look like chunks of Styrofoam spray-painted gray, and the whole scene is smothered in bright, flat lighting. For the most part, you’d never know that Steve McQueen’s frequent cinematographer, Sean Bobbitt (“12 Years a Slave,” “Shame,” “Widows”) shot this.
