Justice League (2017)

At least as far back as 1979, someone wondered what would happen if you put Christopher Reeve, Adam West, and Lynda Carter – give or take some substitutions in the lineup – together in one production. Somehow, thirty-eight years went by before we got this year's Justice League, which doesn't seem to have benefited nearly as much as it should have from all that time and all the intervening lessons as to what works and what doesn't.

One should note, without doubt, there is more than one way to approach the genre. Christian Bale's Dark Knight and Reeve's Superman, to note just two, took paths that both worked, in their way, but were completely, irreconcilably different. It is at the creator's peril that one would try to blend two different approaches in one work; as the saying goes, a camel is a racehorse designed by committee, offering so many improvements to the idea of a horse, you end up with something that can't race.

Justice League, with its six superheroes, is a six-humped camel – eight or nine if you count the Amazons, Mera, and the villain Steppenwolf. It's inherently a tough assignment, with the same number of superheroes that Marvel's Avengers tossed together in 2012, but without the advantage of so many solo movies to introduce the lineup.

Luckily, the three new additions benefit from wonderful performers. Ray Fisher is pitch perfect as Cyborg in a movie that shows only 5% of him and falls even shorter in giving him adequate lines to relate his existential crisis as a superhero who would really rather not be what he's become. Jason Momoa was essential casting to lend gravitas to the Aquaman character who, historically, battles unintended laughs as much as he does underwater villains: The genetic bulk and fury of Momoa immediately defuses the threat that Aquaman would come across as a lightweight. And Ezra Miller's Flash is so likeable, so fun, that nary a fan has complained that his Barry Allen is so different from the comics' version.

Justice League takes those strong performances, along with others by returners Cavill, Gadot, and even Affleck, and a dozen or more fan-pleasing moments and puts them together in almost the worst possible way. It looks as though four or so different good Justice League movies were made and then the pieces from them placed in a salad bowl and edited together without much concern. Indeed, and sadly, something like this did happen, as original director Zack Snyder was taken off the project due to a family tragedy with Joss Whedon picking up – and pasting together – the pieces. The result corrects, to its credit, the overly dark and destructive tone of the two previous Superman (and Batman) movies in the DC Extended Universe, which were seemingly hell-bent on showing collateral damage and a world that wasn't sure that having Superman was a good thing. Justice League fixes that, and undoubtedly has some fun. Most of that fun was, unfortunately, shown to us in the form of trailers over the last year, but buyer beware when it comes to watching trailers, I suppose.

In tallying Justice League's other successes, I must compliment it on melding the Amazon and Atlantean traditions, which is a bit of sense the comics rarely touched upon. And to skip ahead to the ending, it worked for me – and I think, the franchise – to have the superficial ending that the big, bad villain is beaten simply because Superman is stronger than him. People like Superman when he is strong, and here he is, and if that's too simple an ending then Superman is too simple for you.

And some subplots pull it off. When Batman tells an intimidated Flash to save just one hostage, it gives Miller's speedster the chance to gain confidence and show us the master manipulator Batman at work. When an enraged Superman manages to track an increasingly terrified Flash, we get a perfect moment where the characters and their powers interact to make a moment powerful.

And there are elements that seem like subtle nods to past comics. I would comment how like a Lazarus Pit is Superman's revival scene, and reminiscent of the Bad Batman Clone who rose from one in Grant Morrison's Batman and Robin. The need of the villain to bring together three artifacts hearkens back, whether knowingly or accidentally, to the demons Abnegazar, Rath, and Ghast who are empowered by a bell, wheel, and jar, from a JLA story way back in 1962. And the opening scene with Batman taking down a Parademon is, certainly knowingly, right out of the DCnU's premier issue of Justice League in 2011.

But here's the basic failure of Justice League: Plots and subplots work when there is a complication, a climax, and a resolution. These things need some time and investment to work for the viewer. The complication has to mean something. The resolution has to make sense. Over and over, Justice League gives us a mini-plot complete with a complication, climax, and resolution in less time than we can care about – or even understand – the situation. How does someone spend years working in the film industry without a much better sense of what is required to make a subplot pay off? It's unclear where the blame lies: screenwriter Chris Terrio (who won an Oscar for Argo), Snyder, Whedon, higher-up consultants, or some medley of all of them. Maybe too many cooks ruined the soup even though we know from Avengers that six superheroes aren’t too many for a movie.

And so, we know that Amy Adams can act the hell out of a role, but when she's given just five scenes to show Lois Lane's dark night of the soul (one each for her personal complication, climax, and resolution), there's not enough in the script for her to shine. Amber Heard looks and sounds as good as you could hope, but the rapid-fire dialogue in she and Jason Momoa serve up exposition of their characters' history and mommy issues shortchanges the matter to the point that one must ask why bother? Inescapably, I have to conclude that Justice League began with the outline of a potentially great three (or four) hour movie and the creators collectively decided to streamline, ruinously, several of the subplots while eliminating not enough of them.

And so, we have civilians who need to be rescued right before Superman deals with Steppenwolf, including a Russian family who earn more screen time than Diane Lane's Martha Kent while adding nothing but a rationale for Superman and Flash to race. And so, we have Batman knowingly insult the memory of Steve Trevor in order to shock Wonder Woman into becoming a leader in battle. And so, we have Alfred mysteriously conclude from audio alone that Batman being upset by the lack of a plan that somehow the team dynamic is working effectively. (It's not. The subsequent arrival of Superman is the only thing that prevents Steppenwolf from winning.) And so, we have Batman determined that the risk of Superman being resurrected as a monster was worth it after an entire movie was based on the premise that Batman wasn't sure if normal Superman was something we could trust. And so, the drama in many viewers' minds whether a Green Lantern would show up was executed to no payoff by showing extraterrestrial Green Lanterns during a flashback. And so, we have a villain like Steppenwolf, who lacked the slightest bit of interest in his personality.

And we have plot holes galore. Seemingly every viewer realized that Steppenwolf should have stolen the Mother Boxes before Superman came to Earth instead of waiting for his arrival and death. And that the Justice League should have guarded the Mother Box after using it to revive Superman.

If the final result of waiting thirty-eight years for a Justice League movie could come off this flawed, there was no reason for DC to wait this long – they could have squeezed Adam West and Lynda Carter into Superman III and fared little worse. But what's truly frustrating is that they didn't take a little more caution – a thirty-ninth year if it would have helped – and put all of these strong performances together to make a movie that everyone involved could be proud of.