I've been in an Avengers mood lately.
Why am I back? Because I have literally nowhere else to put this. In a matter of days, I grew obsessed with two characters - nothing like the feeling of a fresh, or resurfaced, obsession! - and what's more, they're the two characters I probably least expected to grow obsessed with.
"What does Fury want me to do? Swallow it?"
"Really? They want me in a submerged, pressurized metal container?“
"I don't get a suit of armor. I'm exposed...like a nerve...it's a nightmare."
"So you're saying that the Hulk...the other guy...saved my life? That's nice. It's a nice sentiment. Saved it for - what?“
"It's a terrible privilege.“
"But you can control it.“
"Because I learned how.“
"Agent Romanov, would you please escort Dr. Banner back to his---“
"Where? You're renting my room!“
"The cell was just in case...“
"In case you needed to kill me, but you can't. I know! I tried! I got low. I didn't see an end, so... I put a bullet in my mouth, and the other guy spit it out. So I moved on. I focused on helping people. I was good, until you came and dragged me back into this freak show, and put everyone here at risk.“
"Are you an alien?"
"What?"
"From outer space, an alien."
"No."
"Well, then, son...you've got a condition."
Going into The Avengers in 2012, I had no expectations at all concerning which of the six Avengers would become my favorite, if any - if I had a favourite Marvel character, it was Spider-Man, and he wasn't invited to this party. There was actually no Avenger character I had a particular interest in. Moreover, I had very little knowledge about the Hulk, save for the basic things everyone knows - "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.“ - and even less about this particular Dr. Jekyll, Bruce Banner, save that he was a physicist of some sort and that all movies featuring the character previously had been unpopular messes. So - tabula rasa, near to clean slate. And this incarnation of the character? Somehow managed to push so, so, so many buttons.
Dr. Bruce Banner is a man who hates himself. It's pretty frightening actually how upfront the movie is about this. You can hear in every goddamn self-deprecating line he says that - well, he doesn't hate himself, exactly, he just hates his predicament, the other half of himself that he cannot change and cannot control. The other guy. It instantly struck me as fascinating that unlike the people around him, he almost never refers to the Hulk as the Hulk, but almost always "the other guy“, as if to semantically separate himself from this other entity: This is not me. This monster has nothing to do with me, nothing that it does is under my control. I shall not even dignify him with a name. It's another guy. I loved that, because it shows just how fucking desperate and guilt-ridden this man is. He wants to be good. He wants to help people. Most of all, he wants to be left alone. He doesn't want to be this thing. And whenever the subject is breached, he either tends to look away or he becomes extremely cynical, in a pattern that reminds me of a disabled person who decides that the best way to deal with their condition is to continually make fun of it, at their own expense. It's this black humor streak that really got my sympathy for him - this guy would've killed himself long ago, if he could have. Instead, he carries on. If that isn't the definition of "hero“, I don't know what is.
In the same vein, you know what's gotta be really depressing? Boarding a ship knowing - even though everyone tries to sugarcoat and/or circumvent the issue - that the ship features a cage meant to house you. CHRIST. Even thinking about it now gives me the shivers. That's gotta be fucking devastating, especially when you - the person - also know it's the right thing to do because you know better than anyone else what you're like in a certain state. But you cannot change it - you know it's just how things are. And you stay on board. That, my friends, is the essence of complete and utter badassery. It's what makes Bruce Banner the greatest fucking hero on that entire goddamn boat. He knows that no matter what people say, inwardly they're all watching him intently, secretly counting down, waiting for his fuse to burn up. Some people, like Loki, make no secret out of that. ("Oh, I've heard...“) And the guy deals with all of this and just wants to be left alone, keep up his dignity, and continue his work. This man is a motherfucking hero.
The thing is, I'm not sure if Bruce Banner is just shy and soft-spoken by nature, or if he consciously chooses to be shy and soft-spoken - avoiding eye contact, keeping out of discussions, choosing his words with almost painful care, never raising his voice - because he's afraid of what will happen if he lets himself go. Which is one reason I feel sad there was no Hulk movie with Mark Ruffalo, because I would've loved to see his personality before the accident, before he had to learn to keep this leash on himself. (And no, unless someone gives me a damn good reason to, I am not interested in seeing any other Hulk movies, because I happen to really enjoy Mark Ruffalo's performance, and he is the character in my mind.) I feel it's the opposite. This man probably wants to raise his voice more but he is terrified of losing control, of losing himself in that other being and - that's the big deal - hurting other people. Behind those large brown eyes - the kindest brown eyes I had ever seen - constant terror is what reigns this man. The first time he turns into the Hulk, when the transformation is out of his control, the primary trigger for it is not anger, but fear. Fear is also an aspect of stress, and Bruce at that point is goddamn terrified of everything that's going on: The explosion, the fact that certain people want him to turn into the Hulk, himself. The Hulk is the animal side of him - when it's out of his control - and a frightened animal will always lash out.
As a belated sidenote: It may be a weird, obvious thing to comment on, but thinking it over I really appreciate that Bruce had to fall unconscious/asleep in order to turn human again that first time. Why? Because it shows just how utterly in control the Hulk persona was. There was no question of fighting over who's in the driver's seat while conscious. The other guy is that powerful, and that is exactly what this man was terrified of. In a way, falling asleep - and thus gradually lowering the level of adrenaline that caused the transformation - helped his brain "reboot", so he could regain control again. I don't know, I've always been fascinated by the idea of so completely losing control over something that you're not even able to remember what you did afterwards. (see also Ginny Weasley in Chamber of Secrets.) I guess another (possible) option would've been to knock him really hard on the head, like Black Widow did with Hawkeye, but he's the frigging HULK, have fun GETTING to that head.
"Last time I was in New York, I kind of broke...Harlem..."
Other people who aren't him - who don't have to live through the transformations, which by the way look pretty painful as well - see that hulking power, but he only sees the potential of harming others ("Did I hurt anybody?“) He hates "the other guy“. And that's what has to slowly change throughout the movie, with the support of others - the people who see the human goodness in him ("Only word I care about.“) who value his intelligence and know how much he struggles with his condition ("That much gamma exposure? Should've killed you.“) and who simply accept his situation without judging ("No one around here to hurt.“) He has to make peace with the other guy - accept that the other guy is a part of him - in order to keep in control. And that character arc - if you think about it, Banner only becomes the Hulk twice in the entire movie - to me, is the most fascinating aspect of this movie. This man is the greatest hero of the Avengers, because his archnemesis is on the inside of his skin.
"Dr. Banner? I think now would be a good time for you to get angry.“
"That's my secret, Captain. I'm always angry.“
And speaking of the Captain...
"I slept for seventy years, Sir. I think I've had my fill.“
"Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?“
"You should've left it in the ocean.“
"And I want to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys.“
"Monkeys? I do not understand.“
"I do! I understood that reference.“ *smiles serenely*
"Big man in a suit of armor...take that off, what are you.“
"Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.“
"I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. I've seen the footage. The only thing you fight for is yourself. You're not the guy who makes the sacrifice play - to lie down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.“
"I think I'd just cut the wire.“
"Heh. Always a way out. You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop believing you're a hero.“
"There's only one God, ma'am. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't dress like that.“
Steven Rogers.
Oh, Steven Rogers.
I wish I could quit you.
By all accounts, you should be the most boring member of the Avengers to me, with your American patriotism, your stiff, old-fashioned morals and adherence to authority, your Aryan good looks. Instead, I can't stop finding you fascinating, and fun, and kind, and you continue to put a smile on my face. Why? It can't be that you're just that good-looking - blond isn't usually my type.
But Marvel once again proves that you can take any character premise, however dull, and make something fun and believable out of it.
What, in fact, makes someone a hero? It's not the musculature, or the reflexes, or the symmetrical facial features - what makes someone a hero is the will to do good in the face of adversity. And Steven Rogers - I will continue to call him Steven because that's what his enlistment form said, and 'Steve' sounds like a drunken hobo - embodies that principle like no other. (Except perhaps - well, see above.)
Like Bruce Banner - although for completely different reasons - Steven Rogers struggles with his identity and with his place in the world: He's the Man Out Of Time, who by all natural accounts should be dead, yet here he is, in a world he no longer comprehends and whose values are vastly different from the ones he was taught. For seventy years, he did nothing but sleep - and this man was trained a soldier, mind you! - and when he wakes up it's a new world to him. And what I find fascinating about him is how he constantly tries to keep pace, his eyes constantly roving, observing and surveying, curious, but also a little wary and reserved. You can tell he's always scrutinizing his surroundings, a technically "old“ man in a young man's body. (Which makes him all the more confident and happy when there are things he does understand - and it's a joy to behold.) But what I enjoyed about Rogers - and what I really didn't expect to enjoy so much - was that, instead of desperately trying to appeal to his peers, to be like those "modern folks“, he continues to stick to his own virtues and morals, to the things he knows. (All the way down to the way he dresses.) There's something down-to-earth and human in his character that I enjoy, especially when contrasted with the flighty nature of some of the other characters. Compared to, for example, Tony Stark, Rogers' moral compass is so firm as to be practically hammered into concrete - something you hardly ever see in modern characters anymore, with everyone needing a "bad streak“ in order to be relatable.
(Now that I think about it, that's exactly the reason why I disliked Robert Downey Jr.'s take on Sherlock Holmes so much: The filmmakers' need to paint Holmes as an emotional wreck. Sherlock Holmes is, in fact, whom I consider my favourite superhero, he really isn't an emotional wreck, no matter how much you try to hammer it in.)
It should've technically made him a goody-two-shoes, but somehow the movie manages to never paint him as that. Instead, I found myself enjoying his profound sense of nobility, because after all the angst and mental issues, that is what a hero stands for. He was the world's first superhero - though he would not call himself that - and he's like the Avengers' standing stone. He has this firm moral compass because it's based on things he truly believes in: Nobility, the will to sacrifice yourself for others, discipline, duty, good manners, faith and trust. Whether these are "American“ virtues isn't the issue; the important thing is that they're his, regardless of the time period he happens to be stranded in. He is a soldier, with a trained soldier's adherence to authority, but that doesn't make him a mindless sheep: His decisions are his own, he trusts his intuition, and he is smart enough to realize when someone's motives become questionable.
"Sorry. Computer was a little too slow for me."
That's essentially what I like, I think: His morals are firm, and as old-fashioned as his clothing, but they are truly and unquestionably his own. He's not a hypocrite, and instead of the parody he could have so easily become, he is a very real, very sincere character. He doesn't wear his heroism as a label like some "heroes" I could mention; he doesn't help people because he's Captain America, he is Captain America because he helps people. And in a way, he's completely alone, a living time capsule, the last remnant of that supersoldier experiment, so he knows he has to keep his guard up, keep his own council. That's what makes him a hero - the supersoldier serum, the costume and the shield are merely assets. Technically, he could ditch all of those and he would still do his thing.
Speaking of said serum: Another thing I enjoyed is how this serum did not make him too bulky. He doesn't look like the typical testosterone-sweating bodybuilder a la, say, Gaston from Beauty and the Beast (Remind me again - who at Disney thought that is even remotely attractive?) instead, he moves with a casual grace that makes it seem like he's not even aware of his strength, that it's something he grew into, like you grow into a set of clothes. It's very beautiful to watch, I'll admit, and it makes me all the more curious about how exactly that serum worked on him, how much of that strength and agility - don't get me started on this man's reflexes. Hot. Damn. - was training after the serum administration. If a clip from the Captain America movie I checked out is to be believed, he was scrawny as a drinking straw at the start. (Again: Hot. Damn.)
And that's just the thing: If a movie makes me interested enough in a character I previously gave no flippin' damn about to want to know more about his backstory and what his deal is, that movie is doing something right with the character. It's a question of portrayal, and of performance. Chris Evans was the perfect cast for Rogers, in my opinion, because he manages to embody someone who looks like he's barely out of his twenties but lived in the 1940's. That is a feat. Is he stereotypically handsome? Yes and no. While he has the archetypical American "boyish good looks“ - square face shape, slim, high cheekbones, blue eyes, blond hair - it's kept in check enough with his serious attitude, his old-fashioned style of dressing plus a remarkably deep voice, and I never found him "gorgeous" to a degree that was distracting. So it hits a nice middle ground. He has a very American look to him, and why shouldn't he - he's Captain America, bitches. And I love him.
"Geez. Someone give that kid a sandwich."
"How do you feel?"
"Taller..."
"Where am I really? The game. It's from May, 1941. I know, because I was there. So I'm going to ask you again: Where am I?!"
Addendum: Having just seen the Captain America movie an hour ago, I can only reiterate: I love this man. I love this man because he is amazing, and everything a hero should be. He underwent a painful physical procedure that fucked me over just watching it. You can go on and on about how he was given his superpowers for free, but honestly? He could've backed out of it at any time, and I'm just glad that procedure did not kill him. I don't want to know how much it must have hurt to become approximately 15-20 cm taller, for one thing, going from staring up at people to towering over them. Then he became a war hero just by doing what he felt was the right thing, managed to finally get a date, and then proceeded to fall asleep for seventy years. And then - blink, blink, blink - he wakes up...and runs out onto the street, into a world that's like an alien planet to him, ten times brighter, a hundred times louder. Just that scene. Sweet sugarcoated JESUS. I think my jaw dropped and wouldn't come up again for ten frigging minutes. This seventy-years time gap is alluded to more than enough times in The Avengers, but to see it with my own eyes in the Captain America movie, to actually see him wake up, that was something else entirely, and made me realize just how horrible his predicament truly is. I'll be honest: It broke my fucking heart. When Nick Fury has the audacity to casually ask him "You gonna be okay?" I wanted to punch his FACE in. This man is not only a hero to millions...he's a lost soul. Just like Banner. He's lost, but he carries on. He carries on where other people might have put a bullet in their mouth. (And I wouldn't blame them for it.) Why? Because he's a soldier. Soldiers carry on.
"Let's hear it for Captain America!"
Bullshit. Let's hear it for Steven Rogers, the Man Out Of Time.
A few things:
- Steven looked absurdly attractive in that old-style military suit uniform. I am not ashamed of saying that. He actually looked sexier in that uniform than when he came stumbling half-naked out of that booth. Just that old-timey military style on that body...yes.
- Indulging my fascination/fetish for physical transformations, I watched the serum administration scene several times, just to keep an eye on how Rogers reacts to the entire procedure. It's interesting to watch how he gets more and more nervous during the preparations - that's something many transformation scenes like to overlook - and I can't fucking get over how he SCREAMED once the radiation levels hit the max. (If they had been able to repeat the process for other soldiers, they pretty much would've had to put them into a silencing chamber just to deal with their own consciences. I mean fuck.) Steven was in fucking agony for however brief a time. Which again makes me want to either shake my head over his blatant disregard for self-preservation ("I can do this! Yeah, my musculature is being turned into motherfucking Play-Doh right now, but I can do this!") or admire him for his will to push himself to the limit, because that's one of the most important aspects of his character. I'm also glad that they went the whole way with showing this ordeal. It's one thing to say that someone's superpowers came out of a bottle, it's a whole other thing if the contents of said bottle obviously hurt like sin. (Also: Needles! So many needles. All penetrating the flesh at the same fucking time. It's "only" six bottles of the blue serum, but they're very clearly administered over a system of dermal patches all over his body. WITH SPIKES. Because this is the military, soldier, and shit has to hurt.) You, sir, have guts. Or you are an inconsiderate moron with a serious hero complex. Either way, I admire you.
- Speaking of similarities between Bruce and Steven, they both have an uncanny magical power wherein their pants fit them regardless of how their bodies change in size. Superheroes, everybody!
- I will admit that hearing that deep, throaty voice come out of that scrawny frame at the beginning was more than a little distracting. In that skinny and scrawny state, he looked like a boy of fourteen, and Chris Evans' natural voice is basically vocal lead, and already a surprise in his normal body frame. It didn't quite carry over. I wish they had adjusted his voice just a little when going through all that trouble of shrinking him down via CGI, because somebody must have realized the discrepancy. Which, of course, made it all the more satisfying to watch him gradually grow into the casual strength and grace he displayed in The Avengers - again, not too bulky, but still muscular and athletic. He grows accustomed to it so quickly it almost feels like it's the body he was meant to have, for the things he wanted to do. Let's be honest here: That voice needed that body, CGI technology be damned.
And finally, something I want to know so much more about: The last thing he wore on that fighter jet before crashing into the ice - and essentially falling comatose - is the Cap uniform, with presumably nothing underneath. When he wakes up, he's in this bed, clean, in a simple shirt, trousers and shoes - come to think of it, why shoes? On a bed? - also very clean. Which means that somebody must have undressed, thoroughly washed and re-dressed him, all the while he was asleep. Possibly even drugging him to artificially lengthen his sleep so he doesn't wake up at an inconvenient time.
Seriously? I don't know if that is deeply beautiful, or deeply disturbing. Perhaps both.
Just so we're clear here: It's not the issue of the clothes themselves. It's just an indicator of how much careful planning obviously was behind the process of bringing him back into the world. (Without asking him, mind you. Thank you, Nick Fury. You are a wonderful, considerate man.) They didn't just unfreeze him, drop him on a stretcher and wait. I WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THIS, DAMN IT! Who made the decision to wake him up? What was the process of getting his body back into a state that enabled him to wake up? How many people were involved in this? How did they react to the situation? Doctors? Biologists? Geneticists? Historians? Agent Coulson mentioned in The Avengers that he was present during that phase. Who made the decision to soften the blow by creating an artificial recovery ward, and how did they go about creating it? It's just the idea of having all these people standing over the inert body of a sleeping man, making all these decisions and doing all these things while still trying - hopefully - to treat him with the proper respect - that I find deeply fascinating. S.H.I.E.L.D left nothing to chance, they apparently went out of their way to arrange the moment of his waking up so it's in a calm, stress-free environment; I'll be damned if they didn't monitor his unconsciousness to a fault, and, if necessary, sedated him again at times so he would not wake up surrounded by a horde of fricking strangers. Point is, the movie should have expanded more on that end of the time gap, too, because it could have made for so many fascinating scenes. I've seen the movie and there is still so much I can only picture in my own head.
But yeah. These two have to be my favourites, 'cause none of the others can hold a candle up to these two amazing, brave, lost souls.
And I cannot wait for this movie now.
Wow. I haven't obsessed this intensely over something in a very long time. It feels great.
Just me again, thinking too much when the night is long.
I've just now realized a deeper reason why it is these two in particular whom I consider the greatest heroes on this team. It's not just that they're both lost souls, but if you think about it, they're the two edges of the same sword. In The Avengers it's implied several times that Banner tried to replicate the success of the supersoldier project, experimenting with gamma rays in place of Howard Stark's ominous "vita rays". That, in turn, led to his accident ("Didn't quite go his way, did it.") and his condition. And in a way, the Hulk is a twisted version of the envisioned supersoldier: Immensely powerful, but the transformations are temporary and largely out of Banner's control. (Also green.) So, if you think about it in a twisted way, Rogers is the one unique instance of the experiment gone right without any negative side effects (that I have seen so far - wonder if The Winter Soldier will reveal anything new) while Banner...well. That's pretty fucked up if you think about it. It makes me wonder if Bruce secretly harbors a grudge against Steven - an irrational one, obviously, but grudges don't have to follow logic - because literally every time he looks at the man, he is reminded of the experiment that led to his predicament. I'm not saying the circumstances were exactly the same - whatever those vita-rays were, I do not believe they're gamma radiation - but in a way, the singular success with Steven led to people wanting to recreate said success. Which led to Banner becoming the Hulk.
Fucked. Up.
Which leads me to another question: Why, in fact, couldn't the experiment be replicated? Erskine was shot. Fine. The last sample of the serum was lost before it could fall to Hydra. Fine. But Howard Stark was still there, most of the equipment was also still intact, and Erskine did not leave any records of his research? What kind of a scientist was he? I get that he became a bit overcautious after the whole thing with Schmidt/Red Skull, and picked Steven out for a second attempt with great care, but still - why didn't he leave any records? Why was Steven's serum administration not carefully recorded? Erskine was not exactly young, and the military clearly had plans to build an entire army with this stuff - so why didn't it occur to him to leave instructions? Did the military just decide that after the whole fiasco with the assassination, the project was no longer worth it? (Kind of a knee-jerk reaction?) Did Erskine intentionally keep no records outside of his own head to make sure the research wouldn't fall into the wrong hands? And if he did keep records, what was the one thing he left out that people cannot figure out to this day? I want to know so much, damn it!
"What does Fury want me to do? Swallow it?"
"Really? They want me in a submerged, pressurized metal container?“
"I don't get a suit of armor. I'm exposed...like a nerve...it's a nightmare."
"So you're saying that the Hulk...the other guy...saved my life? That's nice. It's a nice sentiment. Saved it for - what?“
"It's a terrible privilege.“
"But you can control it.“
"Because I learned how.“
"Agent Romanov, would you please escort Dr. Banner back to his---“
"Where? You're renting my room!“
"The cell was just in case...“
"In case you needed to kill me, but you can't. I know! I tried! I got low. I didn't see an end, so... I put a bullet in my mouth, and the other guy spit it out. So I moved on. I focused on helping people. I was good, until you came and dragged me back into this freak show, and put everyone here at risk.“
"Are you an alien?"
"What?"
"From outer space, an alien."
"No."
"Well, then, son...you've got a condition."
Going into The Avengers in 2012, I had no expectations at all concerning which of the six Avengers would become my favorite, if any - if I had a favourite Marvel character, it was Spider-Man, and he wasn't invited to this party. There was actually no Avenger character I had a particular interest in. Moreover, I had very little knowledge about the Hulk, save for the basic things everyone knows - "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.“ - and even less about this particular Dr. Jekyll, Bruce Banner, save that he was a physicist of some sort and that all movies featuring the character previously had been unpopular messes. So - tabula rasa, near to clean slate. And this incarnation of the character? Somehow managed to push so, so, so many buttons.
Dr. Bruce Banner is a man who hates himself. It's pretty frightening actually how upfront the movie is about this. You can hear in every goddamn self-deprecating line he says that - well, he doesn't hate himself, exactly, he just hates his predicament, the other half of himself that he cannot change and cannot control. The other guy. It instantly struck me as fascinating that unlike the people around him, he almost never refers to the Hulk as the Hulk, but almost always "the other guy“, as if to semantically separate himself from this other entity: This is not me. This monster has nothing to do with me, nothing that it does is under my control. I shall not even dignify him with a name. It's another guy. I loved that, because it shows just how fucking desperate and guilt-ridden this man is. He wants to be good. He wants to help people. Most of all, he wants to be left alone. He doesn't want to be this thing. And whenever the subject is breached, he either tends to look away or he becomes extremely cynical, in a pattern that reminds me of a disabled person who decides that the best way to deal with their condition is to continually make fun of it, at their own expense. It's this black humor streak that really got my sympathy for him - this guy would've killed himself long ago, if he could have. Instead, he carries on. If that isn't the definition of "hero“, I don't know what is.
In the same vein, you know what's gotta be really depressing? Boarding a ship knowing - even though everyone tries to sugarcoat and/or circumvent the issue - that the ship features a cage meant to house you. CHRIST. Even thinking about it now gives me the shivers. That's gotta be fucking devastating, especially when you - the person - also know it's the right thing to do because you know better than anyone else what you're like in a certain state. But you cannot change it - you know it's just how things are. And you stay on board. That, my friends, is the essence of complete and utter badassery. It's what makes Bruce Banner the greatest fucking hero on that entire goddamn boat. He knows that no matter what people say, inwardly they're all watching him intently, secretly counting down, waiting for his fuse to burn up. Some people, like Loki, make no secret out of that. ("Oh, I've heard...“) And the guy deals with all of this and just wants to be left alone, keep up his dignity, and continue his work. This man is a motherfucking hero.
The thing is, I'm not sure if Bruce Banner is just shy and soft-spoken by nature, or if he consciously chooses to be shy and soft-spoken - avoiding eye contact, keeping out of discussions, choosing his words with almost painful care, never raising his voice - because he's afraid of what will happen if he lets himself go. Which is one reason I feel sad there was no Hulk movie with Mark Ruffalo, because I would've loved to see his personality before the accident, before he had to learn to keep this leash on himself. (And no, unless someone gives me a damn good reason to, I am not interested in seeing any other Hulk movies, because I happen to really enjoy Mark Ruffalo's performance, and he is the character in my mind.) I feel it's the opposite. This man probably wants to raise his voice more but he is terrified of losing control, of losing himself in that other being and - that's the big deal - hurting other people. Behind those large brown eyes - the kindest brown eyes I had ever seen - constant terror is what reigns this man. The first time he turns into the Hulk, when the transformation is out of his control, the primary trigger for it is not anger, but fear. Fear is also an aspect of stress, and Bruce at that point is goddamn terrified of everything that's going on: The explosion, the fact that certain people want him to turn into the Hulk, himself. The Hulk is the animal side of him - when it's out of his control - and a frightened animal will always lash out.
As a belated sidenote: It may be a weird, obvious thing to comment on, but thinking it over I really appreciate that Bruce had to fall unconscious/asleep in order to turn human again that first time. Why? Because it shows just how utterly in control the Hulk persona was. There was no question of fighting over who's in the driver's seat while conscious. The other guy is that powerful, and that is exactly what this man was terrified of. In a way, falling asleep - and thus gradually lowering the level of adrenaline that caused the transformation - helped his brain "reboot", so he could regain control again. I don't know, I've always been fascinated by the idea of so completely losing control over something that you're not even able to remember what you did afterwards. (see also Ginny Weasley in Chamber of Secrets.) I guess another (possible) option would've been to knock him really hard on the head, like Black Widow did with Hawkeye, but he's the frigging HULK, have fun GETTING to that head.
"Last time I was in New York, I kind of broke...Harlem..."
Other people who aren't him - who don't have to live through the transformations, which by the way look pretty painful as well - see that hulking power, but he only sees the potential of harming others ("Did I hurt anybody?“) He hates "the other guy“. And that's what has to slowly change throughout the movie, with the support of others - the people who see the human goodness in him ("Only word I care about.“) who value his intelligence and know how much he struggles with his condition ("That much gamma exposure? Should've killed you.“) and who simply accept his situation without judging ("No one around here to hurt.“) He has to make peace with the other guy - accept that the other guy is a part of him - in order to keep in control. And that character arc - if you think about it, Banner only becomes the Hulk twice in the entire movie - to me, is the most fascinating aspect of this movie. This man is the greatest hero of the Avengers, because his archnemesis is on the inside of his skin.
"Dr. Banner? I think now would be a good time for you to get angry.“
"That's my secret, Captain. I'm always angry.“
And speaking of the Captain...
"I slept for seventy years, Sir. I think I've had my fill.“
"Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?“
"You should've left it in the ocean.“
"And I want to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys.“
"Monkeys? I do not understand.“
"I do! I understood that reference.“ *smiles serenely*
"Big man in a suit of armor...take that off, what are you.“
"Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.“
"I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. I've seen the footage. The only thing you fight for is yourself. You're not the guy who makes the sacrifice play - to lie down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.“
"I think I'd just cut the wire.“
"Heh. Always a way out. You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop believing you're a hero.“
"There's only one God, ma'am. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't dress like that.“
Steven Rogers.
Oh, Steven Rogers.
I wish I could quit you.
By all accounts, you should be the most boring member of the Avengers to me, with your American patriotism, your stiff, old-fashioned morals and adherence to authority, your Aryan good looks. Instead, I can't stop finding you fascinating, and fun, and kind, and you continue to put a smile on my face. Why? It can't be that you're just that good-looking - blond isn't usually my type.
But Marvel once again proves that you can take any character premise, however dull, and make something fun and believable out of it.
What, in fact, makes someone a hero? It's not the musculature, or the reflexes, or the symmetrical facial features - what makes someone a hero is the will to do good in the face of adversity. And Steven Rogers - I will continue to call him Steven because that's what his enlistment form said, and 'Steve' sounds like a drunken hobo - embodies that principle like no other. (Except perhaps - well, see above.)
Like Bruce Banner - although for completely different reasons - Steven Rogers struggles with his identity and with his place in the world: He's the Man Out Of Time, who by all natural accounts should be dead, yet here he is, in a world he no longer comprehends and whose values are vastly different from the ones he was taught. For seventy years, he did nothing but sleep - and this man was trained a soldier, mind you! - and when he wakes up it's a new world to him. And what I find fascinating about him is how he constantly tries to keep pace, his eyes constantly roving, observing and surveying, curious, but also a little wary and reserved. You can tell he's always scrutinizing his surroundings, a technically "old“ man in a young man's body. (Which makes him all the more confident and happy when there are things he does understand - and it's a joy to behold.) But what I enjoyed about Rogers - and what I really didn't expect to enjoy so much - was that, instead of desperately trying to appeal to his peers, to be like those "modern folks“, he continues to stick to his own virtues and morals, to the things he knows. (All the way down to the way he dresses.) There's something down-to-earth and human in his character that I enjoy, especially when contrasted with the flighty nature of some of the other characters. Compared to, for example, Tony Stark, Rogers' moral compass is so firm as to be practically hammered into concrete - something you hardly ever see in modern characters anymore, with everyone needing a "bad streak“ in order to be relatable.
(Now that I think about it, that's exactly the reason why I disliked Robert Downey Jr.'s take on Sherlock Holmes so much: The filmmakers' need to paint Holmes as an emotional wreck. Sherlock Holmes is, in fact, whom I consider my favourite superhero, he really isn't an emotional wreck, no matter how much you try to hammer it in.)
It should've technically made him a goody-two-shoes, but somehow the movie manages to never paint him as that. Instead, I found myself enjoying his profound sense of nobility, because after all the angst and mental issues, that is what a hero stands for. He was the world's first superhero - though he would not call himself that - and he's like the Avengers' standing stone. He has this firm moral compass because it's based on things he truly believes in: Nobility, the will to sacrifice yourself for others, discipline, duty, good manners, faith and trust. Whether these are "American“ virtues isn't the issue; the important thing is that they're his, regardless of the time period he happens to be stranded in. He is a soldier, with a trained soldier's adherence to authority, but that doesn't make him a mindless sheep: His decisions are his own, he trusts his intuition, and he is smart enough to realize when someone's motives become questionable.
"Sorry. Computer was a little too slow for me."
That's essentially what I like, I think: His morals are firm, and as old-fashioned as his clothing, but they are truly and unquestionably his own. He's not a hypocrite, and instead of the parody he could have so easily become, he is a very real, very sincere character. He doesn't wear his heroism as a label like some "heroes" I could mention; he doesn't help people because he's Captain America, he is Captain America because he helps people. And in a way, he's completely alone, a living time capsule, the last remnant of that supersoldier experiment, so he knows he has to keep his guard up, keep his own council. That's what makes him a hero - the supersoldier serum, the costume and the shield are merely assets. Technically, he could ditch all of those and he would still do his thing.
Speaking of said serum: Another thing I enjoyed is how this serum did not make him too bulky. He doesn't look like the typical testosterone-sweating bodybuilder a la, say, Gaston from Beauty and the Beast (Remind me again - who at Disney thought that is even remotely attractive?) instead, he moves with a casual grace that makes it seem like he's not even aware of his strength, that it's something he grew into, like you grow into a set of clothes. It's very beautiful to watch, I'll admit, and it makes me all the more curious about how exactly that serum worked on him, how much of that strength and agility - don't get me started on this man's reflexes. Hot. Damn. - was training after the serum administration. If a clip from the Captain America movie I checked out is to be believed, he was scrawny as a drinking straw at the start. (Again: Hot. Damn.)
And that's just the thing: If a movie makes me interested enough in a character I previously gave no flippin' damn about to want to know more about his backstory and what his deal is, that movie is doing something right with the character. It's a question of portrayal, and of performance. Chris Evans was the perfect cast for Rogers, in my opinion, because he manages to embody someone who looks like he's barely out of his twenties but lived in the 1940's. That is a feat. Is he stereotypically handsome? Yes and no. While he has the archetypical American "boyish good looks“ - square face shape, slim, high cheekbones, blue eyes, blond hair - it's kept in check enough with his serious attitude, his old-fashioned style of dressing plus a remarkably deep voice, and I never found him "gorgeous" to a degree that was distracting. So it hits a nice middle ground. He has a very American look to him, and why shouldn't he - he's Captain America, bitches. And I love him.
"Geez. Someone give that kid a sandwich."
"How do you feel?"
"Taller..."
"Where am I really? The game. It's from May, 1941. I know, because I was there. So I'm going to ask you again: Where am I?!"
Addendum: Having just seen the Captain America movie an hour ago, I can only reiterate: I love this man. I love this man because he is amazing, and everything a hero should be. He underwent a painful physical procedure that fucked me over just watching it. You can go on and on about how he was given his superpowers for free, but honestly? He could've backed out of it at any time, and I'm just glad that procedure did not kill him. I don't want to know how much it must have hurt to become approximately 15-20 cm taller, for one thing, going from staring up at people to towering over them. Then he became a war hero just by doing what he felt was the right thing, managed to finally get a date, and then proceeded to fall asleep for seventy years. And then - blink, blink, blink - he wakes up...and runs out onto the street, into a world that's like an alien planet to him, ten times brighter, a hundred times louder. Just that scene. Sweet sugarcoated JESUS. I think my jaw dropped and wouldn't come up again for ten frigging minutes. This seventy-years time gap is alluded to more than enough times in The Avengers, but to see it with my own eyes in the Captain America movie, to actually see him wake up, that was something else entirely, and made me realize just how horrible his predicament truly is. I'll be honest: It broke my fucking heart. When Nick Fury has the audacity to casually ask him "You gonna be okay?" I wanted to punch his FACE in. This man is not only a hero to millions...he's a lost soul. Just like Banner. He's lost, but he carries on. He carries on where other people might have put a bullet in their mouth. (And I wouldn't blame them for it.) Why? Because he's a soldier. Soldiers carry on.
"Let's hear it for Captain America!"
Bullshit. Let's hear it for Steven Rogers, the Man Out Of Time.
A few things:
- Steven looked absurdly attractive in that old-style military suit uniform. I am not ashamed of saying that. He actually looked sexier in that uniform than when he came stumbling half-naked out of that booth. Just that old-timey military style on that body...yes.
- Indulging my fascination/fetish for physical transformations, I watched the serum administration scene several times, just to keep an eye on how Rogers reacts to the entire procedure. It's interesting to watch how he gets more and more nervous during the preparations - that's something many transformation scenes like to overlook - and I can't fucking get over how he SCREAMED once the radiation levels hit the max. (If they had been able to repeat the process for other soldiers, they pretty much would've had to put them into a silencing chamber just to deal with their own consciences. I mean fuck.) Steven was in fucking agony for however brief a time. Which again makes me want to either shake my head over his blatant disregard for self-preservation ("I can do this! Yeah, my musculature is being turned into motherfucking Play-Doh right now, but I can do this!") or admire him for his will to push himself to the limit, because that's one of the most important aspects of his character. I'm also glad that they went the whole way with showing this ordeal. It's one thing to say that someone's superpowers came out of a bottle, it's a whole other thing if the contents of said bottle obviously hurt like sin. (Also: Needles! So many needles. All penetrating the flesh at the same fucking time. It's "only" six bottles of the blue serum, but they're very clearly administered over a system of dermal patches all over his body. WITH SPIKES. Because this is the military, soldier, and shit has to hurt.) You, sir, have guts. Or you are an inconsiderate moron with a serious hero complex. Either way, I admire you.
- Speaking of similarities between Bruce and Steven, they both have an uncanny magical power wherein their pants fit them regardless of how their bodies change in size. Superheroes, everybody!
- I will admit that hearing that deep, throaty voice come out of that scrawny frame at the beginning was more than a little distracting. In that skinny and scrawny state, he looked like a boy of fourteen, and Chris Evans' natural voice is basically vocal lead, and already a surprise in his normal body frame. It didn't quite carry over. I wish they had adjusted his voice just a little when going through all that trouble of shrinking him down via CGI, because somebody must have realized the discrepancy. Which, of course, made it all the more satisfying to watch him gradually grow into the casual strength and grace he displayed in The Avengers - again, not too bulky, but still muscular and athletic. He grows accustomed to it so quickly it almost feels like it's the body he was meant to have, for the things he wanted to do. Let's be honest here: That voice needed that body, CGI technology be damned.
And finally, something I want to know so much more about: The last thing he wore on that fighter jet before crashing into the ice - and essentially falling comatose - is the Cap uniform, with presumably nothing underneath. When he wakes up, he's in this bed, clean, in a simple shirt, trousers and shoes - come to think of it, why shoes? On a bed? - also very clean. Which means that somebody must have undressed, thoroughly washed and re-dressed him, all the while he was asleep. Possibly even drugging him to artificially lengthen his sleep so he doesn't wake up at an inconvenient time.
Seriously? I don't know if that is deeply beautiful, or deeply disturbing. Perhaps both.
Just so we're clear here: It's not the issue of the clothes themselves. It's just an indicator of how much careful planning obviously was behind the process of bringing him back into the world. (Without asking him, mind you. Thank you, Nick Fury. You are a wonderful, considerate man.) They didn't just unfreeze him, drop him on a stretcher and wait. I WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THIS, DAMN IT! Who made the decision to wake him up? What was the process of getting his body back into a state that enabled him to wake up? How many people were involved in this? How did they react to the situation? Doctors? Biologists? Geneticists? Historians? Agent Coulson mentioned in The Avengers that he was present during that phase. Who made the decision to soften the blow by creating an artificial recovery ward, and how did they go about creating it? It's just the idea of having all these people standing over the inert body of a sleeping man, making all these decisions and doing all these things while still trying - hopefully - to treat him with the proper respect - that I find deeply fascinating. S.H.I.E.L.D left nothing to chance, they apparently went out of their way to arrange the moment of his waking up so it's in a calm, stress-free environment; I'll be damned if they didn't monitor his unconsciousness to a fault, and, if necessary, sedated him again at times so he would not wake up surrounded by a horde of fricking strangers. Point is, the movie should have expanded more on that end of the time gap, too, because it could have made for so many fascinating scenes. I've seen the movie and there is still so much I can only picture in my own head.
But yeah. These two have to be my favourites, 'cause none of the others can hold a candle up to these two amazing, brave, lost souls.
And I cannot wait for this movie now.
Wow. I haven't obsessed this intensely over something in a very long time. It feels great.
Just me again, thinking too much when the night is long.
I've just now realized a deeper reason why it is these two in particular whom I consider the greatest heroes on this team. It's not just that they're both lost souls, but if you think about it, they're the two edges of the same sword. In The Avengers it's implied several times that Banner tried to replicate the success of the supersoldier project, experimenting with gamma rays in place of Howard Stark's ominous "vita rays". That, in turn, led to his accident ("Didn't quite go his way, did it.") and his condition. And in a way, the Hulk is a twisted version of the envisioned supersoldier: Immensely powerful, but the transformations are temporary and largely out of Banner's control. (Also green.) So, if you think about it in a twisted way, Rogers is the one unique instance of the experiment gone right without any negative side effects (that I have seen so far - wonder if The Winter Soldier will reveal anything new) while Banner...well. That's pretty fucked up if you think about it. It makes me wonder if Bruce secretly harbors a grudge against Steven - an irrational one, obviously, but grudges don't have to follow logic - because literally every time he looks at the man, he is reminded of the experiment that led to his predicament. I'm not saying the circumstances were exactly the same - whatever those vita-rays were, I do not believe they're gamma radiation - but in a way, the singular success with Steven led to people wanting to recreate said success. Which led to Banner becoming the Hulk.
Fucked. Up.
Which leads me to another question: Why, in fact, couldn't the experiment be replicated? Erskine was shot. Fine. The last sample of the serum was lost before it could fall to Hydra. Fine. But Howard Stark was still there, most of the equipment was also still intact, and Erskine did not leave any records of his research? What kind of a scientist was he? I get that he became a bit overcautious after the whole thing with Schmidt/Red Skull, and picked Steven out for a second attempt with great care, but still - why didn't he leave any records? Why was Steven's serum administration not carefully recorded? Erskine was not exactly young, and the military clearly had plans to build an entire army with this stuff - so why didn't it occur to him to leave instructions? Did the military just decide that after the whole fiasco with the assassination, the project was no longer worth it? (Kind of a knee-jerk reaction?) Did Erskine intentionally keep no records outside of his own head to make sure the research wouldn't fall into the wrong hands? And if he did keep records, what was the one thing he left out that people cannot figure out to this day? I want to know so much, damn it!