Isn’t the whole fucking point of superhero fiction to provide an escape from the horrors of being aware? Aren’t we meant to imagine that if we–peons that we are–were imbued with superhuman abilities, we’d feel compelled to help out those less able? Isn’t the superhero premise sort of neutered if the world is worse off at the end of the story than it was at the beginning? Isn’t the very notion of narrative heroism inextricably tied to mostly-unqualified victory?
Christopher Nolan (in particular) seems to revel in destroying dreams: he fucks them brutally and leaves them for dead. He replaces them with paranoia, dread, and fear, mistakenly and hatefully arguing that those sentiments are all we have left.
There seems to be a vogue for shooting (or at least releasing) a film in black and white, whether it makes any sense contextually or not: Baumbach’s Frances Ha and Whedon’s Much Ado About Nothing each appear to consist of desaturated images for no real reason whatsoever, which strikes me as incredibly wrongheaded. Why are these films in black and white? What purpose does it serve?
In the clip below, from The Dick Cavett Show, Peter Bogdanovich explains why he decided not to shoot The Last Picture Show in color: it more or less boils down to the fact that he felt color would ruin the mood he was looking for in his setting. Mel Brooks–also a guest on that same episode–comments that black and white is nothing more than a silly “arty” gimmick unless it’s motivated by something within the story, setting, etc. The same could be said of any technique which is only technique. Thinking something “looks cool” isn’t enough.