Wednesday, July 21, 2010


I watched the first Iron Man, with (I swear) no expectations. While making certain parts of my autonomic nervous system respond dependably, assuring me that I was at least ambulatory, my heart sank and my brain was in full retreat. Silly me, for expecting it, just like every other film I take the trouble to sit through nowadays, to engage me emotionally and intellectually.

The most that can really be said in support for utterly insupportable films like this is that they were made for the fans, and not for people like me. But the fact is, Iron Man is just another movie, just like all the others. If it fails to entertain, which was its sole reason for being, it is not merely dumb but a failure as well. I, for one, feel uncomfortable when a film, or anything else for that matter, tries to treat me like a child. Millions of others, evidently delighted in being treated like children, made it another hugely popular comic book movie, a genre about which I have already had my say.*

Unlike Robert Downey, Jeff Bridges, and Gwyneth Paltrow, who can justify their slumming as actors at the bank (funny, how that works), I'm far too old to go slumming any more at the movies.

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