There are two types of audiences prevalent in our cinemas – those who eat popcorn and those who don’t. Somewhere along the quieter moments of Iron Man 3, when director Shane Black isn’t loudly crashing metal against metal, a cacophony of popcorn-munching rises above conversations between Robert Downey Jr. and Gwyneth Paltrow on-screen, blatantly reminding myself that despite this being a multimedia screening full of press and critics, I am also in a room of the popcorn crowd. So take this piece of critical standpoint from someone who doesn’t gob popcorn in cinemas – my tolerance for superhero movies is little, my desire to see Downey’s latest armoured incarnation is microscopic (after all, Iron Man 2 stenched) and my knowledge of the Marvel universe is rather pathetic. I found the superhero gangbang the Marvel Avengers Assemble loathsome, all shiny, blazing pyrotechnics yet irksomely empty, when everyone else hailed it as the mecca of comic book adaptations (I stare at your PR-caked face, Empire). So I went into Iron Man 3 expecting bugger all – and somehow end up surprisingly liking it.
So that’s the end of The Moviejerk, ladies and gentleman. Pack your bags and leave. I repeat, I ended up liking Iron Man 3. And no, I’m not selling out. Sure, it’s flawed, slightly contrived and a bit slapdash in places – but when it drops any godforsaken plot, it delivers something old-fashioned, bang-for-your-buck entertainment. It also helps that it feels light and breezy, a refreshing break from the dark, furrow-browed superhero movies that take all the shit ever so seriously. Credits to Shane Black, mastermind of the Lethal Weapon films and Kiss Kiss Bang Bangwith collaborator Downey, he imbues a sense of light-hearted fun and tongue-in-cheek knowing, that despite all the explosions and grand set-pieces, he’s bringing home a stripped-back narrative that nods to 80′s action flicks The Terminator, Lethal Weapon, and even stylistically paying homage to the early Spielberg.
That said, the fun is burdened by a few gripes that beset many superhero movies. When all the dust have settled, anybody with a critical mind would notice the glaring flaws of Drew Pearce and Shane Black’s screenplay, despite how much humour they’ve infused into the script (some jokes are genuinely funny, with a standout Sir Ben Kingsley having a whale of a time). Downey and Paltrow are both in typical good form, their relationship central to this instalment’s narrative, but Rebecca Hall’s Maya is somehow elbowed out of the picture, ending up horribly as a footnote character, and as much as Guy Pearce give it his all, his villainous role is entirely inconsistent, pulling off a transformation that’s been an archetype of many comic-book screen adaptations. There’s also a final act deux ex machina that seems insulting – a questionable device that could have been pulled off a lot earlier in the film when Downey’s Stark is in dire threat of extinction. And a suit that inexplicably turns off by itself (hello, Stark programmed it himself) so he could drag him dramatically across snow, ending up in a garage that just have conveniently all the tools he need, with a kiddywink who just happens to be a computer whiz. Don’t you think that’s just too much coincidence in one film? But that’s okay because if you’re nowhere near as smart as Peter Bradshaw, you’ll ignore all these grievances and you’ll have a damn good time.
The third outing of this metallic franchise is solid but hardly breaks new ground in the arena of superhero movies built with familiar chassis and recycled parts. What Iron Man 3 gives you, however, is good fun – like being in a shiny, snazzy party but goes home feeling slightly empty afterwards.
Written by Janno Datinguinoo
